y 


/ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/bookofartistsame00tuck_1 


Book  of  tl)e  Artists. 


American  Artist  Life, 


comprising  biographical  and  critical  sketches 

OF  AMERICAN  ARTISTS:  PRECEDED  BY  AN  HIS- 
TORICAL ACCOUNT  OF  THE  RISE  AND 
PROGRESS  OF  ART  IN  AMERICA. 


BY 

HENRY  T.  TUCKERMAN. 


WITH  AN  APPENDIX  CONTAINING  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  NOTABLE  PICTURES 

AND  PRIVATE  COLLECTIONS. 


NEW  YORK : 

G.  P.  PUTNAM  & SON,  66 1 BROADWAY 

LONDON  : SAMPSON  LOW  & CO. 

1867. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S6T,  by 
G.  P.  PUTNAM  & SON, 

In  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  tho  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District 

of  New  York. 


The  New  York  Printing  Company, 
8i,  83,  and  85  Centre  Street , 

N?;w  York, 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Introduction 7 

Early  Portrait  Painters  : — Watson.  — Smybert.  — Bembridge.  — Pine,  and 
others. — F eke. — Pratt. — W right. — C harles  W ilson  Peale. — Dunlap. — F ulton. 
— Sargent. — Jarvis. — Fraser. — Frothingham. — Rembrandt  Peale. — Harding. — 
Newton. — Neagle. — Waldo. — Alexander,  and  others. — Fisher.— Ames.— Jouet. 


— Ingham 41 

Copley 71 

Trumbuli 82 

West 96 

Stuart 107 

Malbonf. 12 1 

Vanderlyn 126 

Allston 136 

Sully 158 

Morse 163 

Leslie 171 

Durand 187 

W.  E.  West  197 

Weir 203 

Chapman 216 

Cole 223 

Inman 233 

Greenough 247 

Powers 276 

Page 295 

Elliot 300 

Crawford 306 

Huntington . . . . . .321 

Leutze 333 

Brown 346 

Palmer 355 

Church 370 

Bierstadt 387 


Portraiture,  Genre,  and  Historical  Painters  : — Jocelyn. — Oliver  Stone. — 
Agate. — Healy. — Ver  Bryck. — Fink. — Flagg. — Jared  B.  Flagg. — Woodville. — 


VI 


Contents. 


Edmonds.  — Freeman. — Latilla. — Mount. — Glass. — Catlin. — Kellogg. — Deas. 
Cheney.  — Duggan. — Rowse. — Ranney. — Matteson. — Lang. — Rossiter. — J.  H. 
Beard.  — Rothermel.  — Edwin  White  — Le  Clear. — Gray. — Staigg. — Hunt. — 
Lambdin.  — Terry.  — Vedder.  — Hennessy.  — Boughton.  — C.  C.  Coleman.  — 
Powell. — Ames. — W enzler. — Read. — Cranch. — Ehninger. — Hicks.  — Eastman 
Johnson. — Darley. — Phillips. — Carpenter. — Furness. — Hall.— Dana.— Hoppin. 
— Tiffany. — Whistler. — Wilde. — Bellows. — Blauvelt. — Benson. — J.  G.  Brown. 
— Walter  Brown. — J.  F.  Weir- — Noble. — Wood. — Lafarge. — Nast. — Baker. — 
Thompson.  — Guy.  — Homer.  - Forbes.  — Copeland.  — Falconer. — Butler. — 
Gould.  — Nehlig. — J.  O’B.  Inman. — Yewell. — Julian  Scott. — Mayer. — Genin. 
— Bingham. — Audubon. — Tait. — Bispham. — Brackett. — W.  H.  Beard. — May. 
— Wight 398 

Landscape-Painters  : — Doughty. — Gignoux. — Kensett. — Whittredge. — Russell 
Smith. — Casilear. — Hubbard. — W.  T.  Richards. — T.  A.  Richards. — Gifford. — 
Inness. — Cropsey.  — Suydam. — W enzler. — Heade. — McEntee. — W.  Hart. — J. 
M.  Hart. — Birch. — Salmon. — R.  Bonfield. — De  Haas. — Dix. — Warren. — Brad- 
ford. — Haseltine.  — Williamson.  — Bristol.  — Tilton. — Colman. — Shattuck. — 
Griswold. — Gay. — Mignot. — Hamilton. — Brevoort. — Sontag.— Bellows. — Cole, 
and  others. — Ropes. — Thorndike. — Ruggles. — Moran. — Hotchkiss  . . 506 

Sculptors  : — Foreign  Sculptors.  — Rush.  — Frazee.  — Augur. — Hart. — Brown. — 
Story.  — Ball.  — Ward. — Ives. — Mills. — Dexter. — Volk. — Mozier.  — Randolph 
Rogers. — Rhinehardt. — R.  S.  Greenough. — Jackson. — Rimmer.— Thompson.— 
Rogers. — Meade. — Haseltine. — Connolly,  and  others. — Brackett. — Gould. — 
Millmore.  Female  Sculptors  : Harriet  Hosmer. — Emma  Stebbins. — Margaret 
Foley. — Edmonia  Lewis. — Mrs.  Freeman. — Anne  Whitney. — Clevenger. — 
Bartholomew. — Akers 570 


Appendix 


620 


‘ W hen,  from  the  sacred  garden  driven, 

Man  fled  before  his  Maker’s  wrath, 

An  angel  left  her  place  in  heaven, 

And  cross’d  the  wanderer’s  sunless  path. 

’Tw  as  Art ! sweet  Art ! new  radiance  broke 
Where  her  light  foot  flew  o’er  the  ground, 

And  thus  with  seraph  voice  she  spoke  : 

‘The  curse  a blessing  shall  be  found.’” 

Sprague. 

“ Man,  it  is  not  thy  works,  which  are  mortal,  infinitely  little,  and  the  greatest  no 
greater  than  the  least,  but  only  the  spirit  thou  workest  in,  that  can  have  worth  or 
continuance.” — Carlyle. 


PUBLISHERS’  ADVERTISEMENT. 


A candid  and  comprehensive  survey  of  the  Progress  of  Art 
in  the  United  States  has  for  some  years  appeared  to  be  an 
essential  want  in  our  literature,  and  a theme  which  cannot  fail 
to  be  emphatically  interesting  and  acceptable,  not  merely  to 
those  more  direCtly  connected  with  Art,  professionally  and  as 
collectors,  but  also  to  the  many  thousands  of  intelligent  people 
who  can  appreciate  and  enjoy  good  pictures,  although  they 
may  not  have  means  to  buy  them. 

In  this  faith  the  Publishers  have  induced  Mr.  Tuckerman 
to  undertake  the  laborious  yet  genial  task  of  collecting  the 
leading  faCts  and  details  connected  with  the  Progress  of  Paint 
ing  and  Sculpture  in  this  country,  and  the  personal,  or  at 
least  the  professional  history  of  our  Artists.  In  this  under- 
taking the  author  has  incorporated,  as  the  groundwork,  his 
own  brief  Sketch  of  American  Artist-Life,  published  some 
twenty  years  ago,  and  which  was  warmly  welcomed  by  judi- 
cious critics  at  home  and  in  England.  Biographies  of  the 
pioneer  Artists,  and  of  those  whose  names  and  works  are  most 
familiar,  are  given  more  at  length,  and  with  special  regard  to 
authentic  details  of  their  characteristic  works. 

The  limits  of  a single  volume  do  not  permit  extended  refer- 
ence to  the  works  of  all  our  younger  Artists — and  respeCt  has 
been  paid  to  the  modest  wishes  of  those  who  desire  to  accom- 
plish something  more  worthy  of  record  before  they  are  enrolled 
in  our  Art-Annals. 


PLAN  AND  PURPOSE  OF  THIS  WORK. 


This  work  is  essentially  a Biographical  History  of  Ameri- 
can Art  ; the  statistics,  means,  influences,  obstacles,  needs, 
and  triumphs  thereof  are  stated  and  discussed  ; the  past  fabts, 
the  present  tendencies,  and  the  future  prospebts  of  Art  among 
us  are  also  suggested  ; but  the  great  feature  of  the  work  is  its 
personal  revelations.  In  many  instances  the  author  has  enjoy- 
ed intimate  relations  with  the  artists  he  delineates  ; and  there- 
fore writes  from  his  own  observation  and  knowledge,  which 
gives  both  value  and  vital  interest  to  such  memoirs  as  those  of 
Greenough,  Powers,  Inman,  Crawford,  Clevenger,  Brown, 
Leslie,  Morse,  Church,  and  many  others.  The  account  of 
Allston  is  by  far  the  most  complete  ever  written  ; in  that  of 
Inman  and  Powers  there  are  extrabts  from  letters,  and  speci- 
mens of  original  verse  ; numerous  fresh  and  significant  anec- 
dotes enliven  the  narrative  — the  several  departments  of  Art 
are  fully  discussed,  as  Portraiture , in  the  chapters  on  Copley, 
Stuart,  Page,  and  Elliot ; Landscape , in  those  devoted  to  Cole, 
Durand,  Church,  etc. ; Miniature , in  the  sketches  of  Malbone  and 
Staigg ; Historical \ under  West,  Trumbull,  and  Leutze  ; Pano- 
ramic, under  Vanderlyn  ; and  Plastic  Art , in  the  memoirs  of 
Greenough,  Powers,  Crawford,  and  Palmer.  Among  the  other 
incidental  subjebts  treated  in  connection  with  these  lives  of 
American  Artists,  are  Western  Adventure,  in  relation  to  Deas, 
Bierstadt,  Ranney,  etc.  ; Life  in  Italy,  as  experienced  by 
Greenough,  Crawford,  Allston,  etc.  ; English  Patronage,  as 
enjoyed  by  West  and  Leslie  ; Tropical  and  Arbtic  Excur- 
sions, associated  with  the  paintings  of  Church  and  Bradford  ; 
the  contrasted  influence  of  the  Dusseldorf,  French,  and  Italian 
schools  ; — and  interspersed  with  these  interesting  subjebts, 


X 


Plan  and  Purpose  of  this  Work. 


many  anecdotes  of  Artist-Life,  for  the  first  time  put  on  record 
by  the  author  ; as,  for  instance,  the  experience  of  W.  E.  West, 
while  portraying  Lord  Byron  ; of  Morse,  while  initiating  the 
Eledfric  Telegraph  ; of  Chapman,  in  his  early  excursions  about 
Rome  ; of  Palmer,  in  his  humble  youthful  days  ; of  Clevenger, 
Akers,  and  Powers,  in  their  first  isolated  struggles  ; and  of 
Elliot,  in  his  acquisition  and  profitable  use  of  a “Stuart” 
accidentally  acquired,  “ whereby  hangs  a tale.”  The  illustra- 
tions from  travel  and  books  ; the  quotations  from  the  best 
foreign  and  native  art-critics  ; the  descriptions,  dates,  and 
local  habitation  of  interesting  works  of  Art,  their  character 
and  history  ; the  fadls  of  the  Real,  and  the  requirements  of  the 
Ideal,  are  among  the  many  themes  and  associations  which 
give  value  and  variety  to  the  historical  details  and  personal 
experiences  recorded  in  this  work,  with  fulness,  authentic  pre- 
cision, and  earnest  sympathy. 

A recent  liberal  and  judicious  little  treatise  on  Art,  attrib- 
uted to.  a foreign  writer  of  acknowledged  authority,  contains 
the  following  remarks,  which,  by  a pleasant  coincidence,  we 
find  amply  illustrated  in  this  record  and  discussion  of  Ameri- 
can Artist-Life  : 

“ Not  by  thinking  about  it  will  any  one  find  out  beauty  ; 
but  a sensibility  that  is  weak  may  be  strengthened,  and  one 
that  is  confused  may  be  cleared  and  purified.  Now,  the  way 
to  make  one’s  perceptions  clear  in  Art  is  to  consider  carefully 
what  Art  is  in  general ; what  is  its  objedf  ; under  what  con- 
ditions it  works,  and  what  may  be  expedled  from  it.” 

“There  are  standing  controversies  in  Art,  which  are  per- 
petually breaking  out  afresh  : they  take  new  forms  with  every 
new  age,  but  they  are  essentially  the  same  always.  These 
violent  dogmatic  decisions  crush  and  wither  the  timid  likings 
of  plain  people,  which  might  have  developed  into  cultivated 
taste.” 

“ The  artist’s  capital  is  in  himself ; it  is  the  gift  of  nature, 
and  incommunicable.  And  what  is  this  gift  ? It  is  the  gift 
of  joy.  Will  it  not  satisfy  the  artist  that  he  should  be 
regarded  as  one  whom  Nature  has  favored  with  a more  elastic 
spirit  than  others?  as  one  who,  because  he  retains  his  fresh- 


Plan  and  Purpose  of  this  Work.  xi 

ness  when  others  have  lost  it  in  cares  and  details,  becomes  a 
fountain  of  freshness  to  the  community  ? And  if  there  is 
something  sacred  in  the  artist’s  intrinsic  superiority,  is  there 
not  also  something  sacred  in  his  function  ? ”* 

The  Publishers. 


* Elementary  Principles  of  Art.  A LeSture.  Reprinted  from  McMillan’s  Magazine 
Boston:  Roberts  Brothers.  1867. 


INTRODUCTION. 


ART  IN  AMERICA, 


O one  familiar  with  the  Art  of  Europe,  or  even  with  the 
criticism  thereof  by  eloquent  modern  writers,  there  may 
be  little  attraction  in  the  earlier  productions  of  pencil  and 
chisel  on  this  Continent;  yet  liberal  curiosity  and  humane 
sympathies  will  discover  much  significant  interest  in  the 
fads  attending  the  dawn  and  progress  of  Art  in  America. 
The  contrast  between  the  stern  exigencies  of  primitive  civilization  and  the 
absorbing  claims  of  a nascent  polity  and  social  development,  with  the 
initiation  of  what  have  ever  proved  the  mature  elements  of  culture  and 
character,  alone  suggests  a certain  degree  of  romance  and  philosophy  ; 
and  when  these  elements  gradually  assume  an  historical  interest,  and 
prove  the  germs  of  a progressive  taste  and  practice,  they  acquire  no 
inconsiderable,  though  often  indirect,  importance.  Although  a few  portrait- 
painters  have  left  traces  of  their  vocation  among  the  colonial  relics  anterior 
to  1700,  such  evidences  of  luxury  are  too  few  and  ineffective  to  deserve 
much  notice  ; and  their  rarity  may  be  inferred  from  the  faCt  that  the  artistic 
paraphernalia  which  a Scotchman,  fifteen  years  after  that  date,  possessed  at 
Perth  Amboy,  N.  J.,  made  his  studio  as  great  a marvel  to  the  scattered 
inhabitants  as  the  cabinet  of  an  astrologer.  Cotton  Mather,  in  his  “ Mag- 
nolia,” speaking  of  the  aversion  of  John  Wilson  to  sit  for  his  portrait, 
says:  “Secretary  Rowson  introduced  the  limner” — showing  there  were 
limners  in  Boston  in  1667. 

The  Colony  now  known  as  Rhode  Island  wa's  the  scene  of  our  earli- 
est Art ; thither  the  benignly  enterprising  Berkeley  had  brought  Smybert, 
whose  pencil  transmits  the  features  of  some  of  New  England’s  fathers  in 
Church  and  State,  and  a few  of  the  belles  of  that  day,  and  whose  skill  may 
be  estimated  by  the  first  composite  picture  ever  executed  here — that  of  his 
beloved  patron  and  his  companions,  now  in  the  Yale  College  Gallery.  To 


8 


Art  in  America. 


him,  also,  we  are  indebted  for  the  only  authentic  portrait  of  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards ; and  it  was  his  copy  of  a Cardinal  by  Vandyke,  which  gave  Allston, 
then  a Harvard  student,  his  first  ideas  and  practice  in  colors.  Next,  in  the 
heart  of  Pennsylvania,  and  in  the  bosom  of  a seel  remarkable  for  its  in- 
difference to  the  beautiful  as  a means  of  refinement  and  pleasure,  appeared 
Benjamin  West,  whose  story  is  a household  word; — his  boyish  sketch  of 
his  sleeping  brother — his  slow  encroachments  on  the  prejudices  of  his 
neighbors — the  interest  he  excited  in  Rome,  as  the  pioneer  American  art- 
student,  who  compared  the  Apollo  to  a Mohawk  warrior  ; the  royal  patron- 
age he  enjoyed  in  England — his  signal  ability  in  choosing  subjects  and  in 
composition,  and  his  inadequate  power  of  expression — his  integrity  and 
kindliness — the  encouragement  he  afforded  his  countrymen  who  came  to 
London  to  become  painters — his  numerous  and  elaborate  historical  works — 
his  serene  and  prosperous-  age,  and  his  well-known  “ Christ  Rejected  ” and 
“ Healing  the  Sick,”  once  so  popular  and  still  so  endeared — make  his  benev- 
olent and  venerable  figure  a genial  objeCt  in  the  foreground  of  our  brief 
Art-history.  Anterior  to  him,  and  entirely  identified  with  colonial  times, 
is  Copley,  through  whom  the  brocade,  buckles,  velvet,  powder,  and  other 
characteristics  of  an  aristocratic  and  obsolete  toilet,  are  associated  with 
the  old-fashioned  dignity  and  formal  self-possession  of  the  eminent  and  the 
prosperous  subjects  of  Britain,  who  were  the  oracles  of  society  in  Pro- 
vincial America.  Like  West,  he  adventured  notably  in  the  historical 
sphere  ; and  his  “ Youth  Rescued  from  a Shark,”  and  “ Death  of  Pierson,” 
and  of  Chatham,  are  among  the  memorable  engravings  of  that  period. 

Patience  Wright  soon  after  modelled  cleverly  in  wax  and  clay,  favored 
by  Washington  and  Franklin;  Bembridge  and  Fraser  were  celebrities  at 
the  South  ; Paul  Revere,  a mechanical  genius  of  Boston,  and  among  her 
earliest  patriots  ; Feke  and  Pratt  had  set  up  their  easels  here  and  there  ; 
and  Wilson  Peale  and  Colonel  Trumbull  united  the  fame  of  soldiers  and 
artists — the  former  having  earliest  delineated  the  Father  of  his  Country, 
and  the  latter  the  features  of  our  Revolutionary  heroes  and  statesmen — 
otherwise  in  many  instances  now  lost  to  our  senses  forever.  And  then 
came  Gilbert  Stuart,  whose  humble  birthplace,  a small  farm-house  at 
Narragansett,  near  the  site  of  the  snuff-mill  ereCted  by  his  father,  a shrewd 
Scotchman,  may  still  be  seen.  The  vigor  of  his  pencil,  the  strength  and 
character  of  his  coloring,  his  colloquial  fame,  his  numerous  invaluable 
family  portraits,  which  are  among  the  most  prized  heirlooms  in  America  ; 
the  racy  anecdotes,  the  characteristic  originality  and  force  of  the  man  ; 
his  work  and  his  ways,  his  talk  and  his  partiality  to  the  “pungent  grains 
of  titillating  dust,”  once  so  copiously  manufactured  by  his  thrifty  sire  ; and 
especially  his  portrait  of  Washington,  wherein  the  gentleman  and  the 
sage,  the  hero  and  the  Christian,  are  so  exquisitely  combined  and  impres- 
sively embodied, — render  his  memory  and  his  influence  as  an  artist  salient 
and  enduring. 

Earle,  Fulton,  Dunlap,  Williams,  and  Joseph  Wright,  are  among  those 
who  simultaneously  wrought  in  the  same  field  ; and  coincident  therewith 


Introduction . 


9 


the  visits  of  foreign  artists,  to  depict  or  mould  the  features  of  those  re- 
markable men  who  laid  the  foundation  of  our  constitutional  freedom,  save 
a fresh  impulse  and  an  enlarged  sphere  to  the  art  previously  illustrated  by 
native  talent. 

Jarvis  and  Vanderlyn  now  became  known  to  fame  ; the  stories  of  the 
former  and  his  eccentricities  are  among  the  most  amusing  of  Knicker- 
bocker reminiscences,  and  his  portrait  of  “ Perry  at  Lake  Erie,”  authentic 
as  a likeness,  was  long  the  admiration  of  hero-worshippers  ; while  the 
“ Ariadne  ” of  the  latter  was  not  only  regarded  as  a miracle  of  beauty,  but 
gave  birth  to  an  engraving  from  the  burin  of  Durand,  which  threw  the  pre- 
vious labors  of  Edwin,  Lawson,  and  Anderson,  into  the  shade,  and  is  still 
one  of  the  most  creditable  specimens  of  the  art,  of  native  origin.  Wilson, 
the  ornithologist,  soon  after  came  to  give  the  first  impulse  to  the  artistic 
illustration  of  Natural  History,  so  nobly  followed  up  by  Audubon  ; and  an 
exquisite  miniature  painter,  Malbone,  while  yet  a youth,  and,  like  Stuart, 
a native  of  Rhode  Island,  scattered  precious  gems  of  delicate  portraiture 
from  Massachusetts  to  South  Carolina,  and  died  at  the  zenith  of  his  fame, 
by  none  more  lamented  than  by  Washington  Allston,  the  sympathetic 
companion  of  his  boyhood’s  rambles  at  Newport,  and  of  his  mature  experi- 
mental studies  in  art.  With  the  name  of  this  great  painter,  painting 
reached  its  acme  of  excellence  among  us.  In  genius,  character,  life,  and 
feeling,  he  emulated  the  Italian  masters,  partook  of  their  spirit,  and  caught 
the  mellow  richness  of  their  tints.  Around  his  revered  name  cluster  the 
most  seleCt  and  gratifying  associations  of  native  art ; in  each  department 
he  exhibited  a mastery,  as- was  emphatically  acknowledged  when  a partial 
exhibition  of  his  pictures  was  made  in  Boston  thirty  years  ago.  From  an 
Alpine  landscape,  luminous  with  frosty  atmosphere  and  sky-piercing 
mountains,  to  moonbeams  flickering  on  a quiet  stream — from  grand 
Scriptural  to  delicate  fairy  figures — from  rugged  and  solemn  Jewish  heads 
to  the  most  ideal  female  conceptions — from  “ Jeremiah  ” to  “ Beatrice,” 
and  from  “ Miriam  ” to  “ Rosalie,”  every  phase  of  mellow  and  transparent 
— almost  magnetic  color,  graceful  contours,  deep  expression,  rich  contrast 
of  tints — the  mature,  satisfying,  versatile  triumph  of  pifitorial  art,  as  we 
have  known  and  loved  it  in  the  Old  World,  then  and  there,  justified  the 
name  of  American  Titian  bestowed  on  Allston  at  Rome  ; while  the  spirit- 
ual isolation  and  benignity,  the  instructive  and  almost  inspired  discourse, 
the  lofty  ideal,  the  religious  earnestness,  even  the  lithe  frame,  large,  ex- 
pressive eyes,  and  white,  flowing  locks  of  Allston,  his  character,  his  life, 
conversation,  presence,  and  memory,  proclaimed  the  great  artist. 

Nor,  though  our  country’s  career  in  art  is  so  brief,  is  he — comparatively 
ripe  in  years,  fame,  and  achievement — the  only  highly-gifted  and  graciously 
influential  native  artist  whose  untimely  departure  we  have  been  called  to 
mourn.  Newton,  who  alone  rivalled  Leslie  in  that  deleCtable  sphere  of 
illustrative  art  for  which  Sterne,  Cervantes,  Shakspeare,  Pope,  and  Irving 
have  afforded  memorable  themes,  died  with  too  limited  a bequest  to  the 
artistic  treasures  of  two  countries  ; for  years,  miniature  painting  remained 


10 


Art  in  America. 


among  us  as  it  was  left  by  Malbone  ; Henry  Inman,  than  whom  no  votary 
of  the  pencil  in  America  had  more  of  the  true  traits  of  artist-genius,  whose 
few  refined  and  graceful  compositions,  and  portraits  of  Wordsworth, 
Chalmers,  Macaulay,  and  others,  amply  attest  his  skill  and  originality, 
was  cut  off  in  the  prime  of  his  years  and  his  faculties  ; Thomas  Cole,  a 
landscape  painter,  as  truly  alive  to  the  significance  of  our  scenery  as  a 
subject  of  art,  as  is  Bryant  as  one  of  poetry,  and  who  united  graphic  pow- 
ers with  poetical  feeling,  had  but  just  reached  his  meridian  when  he  passed 
away.  Horatio  Greenough  left  a void  not  only  in  the  thin  rank  of  our 
sculptors,  but  among  the  foremost  of  Art’s  intelligent  and  eloquent  advo- 
cates and  expositors  ; not  soon  will  be  forgotten  his  copious  ideas,  inde- 
pendent spirit,  and  genial  fellowship  ; no  American  artist  has  written  more 
effectively  of  the  claims  and  defeats  of  art-culture  among  us.  The  remark- 
able labors  of  Crawford,  his  consummate  final  achievement,  his  genius, 
assiduity,  success,  and  early  departure,  are  recent  and  familiar  subjects  of 
eulogy  and  regret.  Deas,  Doughty,  Bartholomew,  Cheney,  W.  E.  West, 
one  of  the  best  delineators  of  Byron  ; Van  Bryck,  Woodville,  Glass,  Dug- 
gan, Suydam,  Furness,  and  other  disciples  of  art,  have  swelled  the  obitu- 
ary, and  left  cherished  memories  and  trophies.  Such  are  a few  of  the 
names  and  the  triumphs  which  the  past  affords  ; for  the  most  part  incom- 
plete and  casual  indeed,  yet  not  without  precious  results  and  delightful 
memories  ; in  some  of  these  men  we  find  the  conservators  of  national  fame 
through  authentic  portraiture,  at  a time  and  in  a country  when  excellence 
therein  was  rare  ; in  others,  was  manifest  a knowledge  of  art  which  guided 
and  quickened  aspiring  students  utterly  destitute  of  educational  means  ; 
in  some,  the  love  of  beauty,  the  moral  sensibility  and  artistic  perception 
glowed,  and  in  all  the  love  and  the  labors  of  art  raised  and  propagated  its 
principles  and  charms,  then  but  imperfectly  recognized,  now  so  diffused 
and  honored. 

A limited  influence,  but  one  not  less  valuable  in  the  utter  absence  of 
artistic  trophies,  must  have  been  exerted  by  Blackburn,  through  the  few 
but  highly-finished  portraits  he  executed  during  a brief  visit  to  the  Eastern 
colonies  ; the  grace  of  his  female  heads  and  the  beauty  of  the  hands  are 
remarkable.  We  can  indeed  trace  the  foreign  element  in  ameliorating  the 
method  and  refining  the  taste  in  Art,  until  several  years  after  the  estab- 
lishment of  Independence.  The  portraits  of  Pine  and  Robertson,  best 
known  as  having  delineated  Washington  and  the  statesmen  of  the  Revo- 
lution, the  profile  miniature  likenesses  by  Sharpless,  the  Danae  of  Wert- 
miiller,  who  passed  several  years,  and  finally  died,  in  Delaware  ; the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  republican  sculptor  Ceracchi,  who  modelled  the  heads  of 
Washington,  Hamilton,  and  other  American  celebrities,  and  contemplated 
a grand  historical  statuary  composition  to  commemorate  the  triumph  of 
Liberty,  and,  at  last,  was  beheaded  for  conspiring  against  the  first  Na- 
poleon ; the  statue  by  Houdon,  and  the  occasional  visits  of  other  and  less 
famed,  but  comparatively  accomplished  foreign  artists,  gradually  made  the 
appliances  and  technicalities  of  the  pursuit  more  familiar  and  accessible. 


Introduction. 


1 1 

During  the  French  Revolution,  many  valuable  works  of  the'  French, 
Italian,  and  Dutch  schools  found  their  way  to  America;  within  a few 
years  some  of  the  best  pictures  of  the  Dusseldorf  and  modern  Parisian 
school  have  been  exhibited  here.  American  travelers  in  Europe  have 
secured  admirable  copies  of  the  most  renowned  works  of  the  old  masters, 
and  foreigners  or  natives  in  our  principal  cities  have,  in  several  memora- 
ble instances,  made  collections,  some  of  English,  others  of  French  and 
German,  American,  or  Italian  pictures,  so  that  there  is  now  an  opportu- 
nity for  our  artists,  without  going  abroad,  to  become  familiar  with  the 
finest  exemplars  of  the  limner’s  art.  Whatever  difference  of  opinion  or 
taste  may  exist  in  regard  to  the  comparative  merits  of  the  different 
schools,  their  products  have  made  apparent  to  the  least  critical,  the 
greater  thoroughness  of  equipment  and  discipline  which  even  moderate 
success  demands  of  the  artist  in  Europe  ; while  mediocrity  and  presump- 
tion have  thus  been  reproved,  true  talent  has  received  a new  stimulus,  the 
effeCt  whereof  is  obvious  in  the  greater  variety  of  subjects,  and  the  more 
studious  treatment  in  native  art. 

New  York  is  nobly  supplied  with  Hospitals  and  Libraries,  but  she  lacks 
one  Institution  essential  to  a great  civilized  metropolis, — a permanent  free 
Gallery  of  Art.  There  is  no  safe  and  eligible  place  of  deposit  and  exhibi- 
tion for  pictures  and  statuary.  The  many  valuable  works  that  formed  the 
City  Gallery,  and  were  once  gathered  in  the  Park,  long  mouldered  in  a 
cellar;  among  them  were  the  masterpieces  of  Vanderlyn  and  Cole.  A few 
years  ago,  an  enterprising  merchant  offered  to  place  a large  collection  of 
pictures,  by  the  old  masters,  in  any  secure  edifice,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
public  ; but  neither  public  munificence  nor  private  enterprise  would  furnish 
the  requisite  shelter  for  these  artistic  exotics,  and  they  now  repose  in  the 
obscurity  of  lumber-rooms.  Mr.  J.  J.  Jarves  brought  a chronological  se- 
lection of  “ old  masters  ” from  Italy,  and  sought  a permanent  home  for 
them  here  in  vain.  Our  native  artists,  toiling  in  their  scattered  ateliers , 
have  no  appropriate  medium  whereby  their  labors  can  be  known  to  the 
public.  It  is  not  the  custom  here,  as  in  Europe,  for  strangers  to  visit  stu- 
dios uninvited  ; accordingly,  our  artists,  when  they  have  a new  picture  to 
dispose  of,  send  it  to  a fashionable  print-shop,  and  pay  an  exorbitant 
commission  in  case  of  sale. 

The  surprise  and  delight  exhibited  by  die  thousands  of  all  degrees,  who 
visited  the  PiCture  Gallery  of  the  Metropolitan  Fair,  has  suggested  to 
many,  for  the  first  time,  and  renewed  in  other  minds  more  emphatically, 
the  need,  desirableness,  and  practicability  of  a permanent  and  free  Gallery 
of  Art  in  our  cities.  The  third  metropolis  of  the  civilized  world  should 
not  longer  be  without  such  a benign  provision  for  and  promoter  of  high 
civilization.  Within  the  last  few  years  the  advance  of  public  taste  and  the 
increased  recognition  of  art  in  this  country,  have  been  among  the  most 
interesting  phenomena  of  the  times.  A score  of  eminent  and  original 
landscape  painters  have  achieved  the  highest  reputations  ; private  collec- 
tions of  pictures  have  become  a new  social  attraction  ; exhibitions  of  works 


12 


Art  in  America . 


of  art  have  grown  lucrative  and  popular ; buildings  expressly  for  studios 
have  been  eredted  ; sales  of  pictures  by  audtion  have  produced  unprece- 
dented sums  of  money ; art-shops  are  a deledtable  feature  of  Broadway  ; 
artist-receptions  are  favorite  reunions  of  the  winter  ; and  a splendid  edi- 
fice has  been  completed  devoted  to  the  Academy,  and  owing  its  eredtion 
to  public  munificence, — while  a School  of  Design  is  in  successful  operation 
at  the  Cooper  Institute.  Nor  is  this  all ; at  Rome,  Paris,  Florence,  and 
Dusseldorf,  as  well  as  at  Chicago,  Albany,  Buffalo,  Philadelphia,  Boston, 
and  New  York,  there  are  native  ateliers , schools,  or  colledtions,  the  fame 
whereof  has  raised  our  national  charadter  and  enhanced  our  intelledlual 
resources  as  a people.  These  and  many  other  fadts  indicate,  too  plainly 
to  be  mistaken,  that  the  time  has  come  to  establish  permanent  and  stand- 
ard galleries  of  art,  on  the. most  liberal  scale,  in  our  large  cities.  Hereto- 
fore the  absence  of  fire-proof  buildings  has  prevented  many  Americans  of 
wealth  and  taste  from  contributing  to  such  institutions  as  include  the  Fine 
Arts  in  their  objects.  Not  long  since  a fire  occurred  in  Boston,  whereby 
several  invaluable  historical  portraits  were  destroyed,  and  the  risk  of  such 
catastrophes  deters  prudential  lovers  of  artistic  treasures  from  indulging 
at  once  their  public  spirit  and  private  taste,  by  presenting  works  of  art  to 
such  institutions  as  already  exist.  No  sooner  did  the  New  York  Historical 
Society  possess  a fire-proof  edifice  than  valuable  donations  began  there  to 
accumulate ; the  Nineveh  marbles,  the  Egyptian  museum,  the  Audubon 
colledtions,  portraits,  statues,  and  relics,  were  gratefully  confided  to  this 
secure  and  eligible  institution.  It  was  soon  found  inadequate  as  to  space, 
and  the  late  President,  with  some  of  the  more  enterprising  members,  ob- 
tained a charter  from  the  Legislature  for  a museum  of  art  and  antiquities, 
to  be  eredted  in  the  Central  Park,  and  open  to  the  public,  as  are  similar 
institutions  in  Europe.  As  a nucleus  for  the  statuary  department,  the 
casts  from  Crawford’s  Roman  studio  are  most  appropriate  and  valua- 
ble ; they  are  already  stored  in  the  old  Arsenal.  It  has  been  proposed 
that  a permanent  colledtion  of  arms  and  trophies,  such  as  have  attradted 
such  crowds  of  delighted  visitors  at  the  Fair,  should  constitute  another 
feature. 

Already  we  have  the  munificent  donation  of  Thomas  J.  Bryan,  of  his 
rare  and  costly  gallery  of  pidtures  to  the  New  York  Historical  Society. 
It  numbers  two  hundred  and  fifty  pidtures,  and  is  valued  at  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  It  is  no  casual  gathering  of  odds  and  ends,  such  as 
may  be  brought  together  in  any  European  capital  by  the  mere  expenditure 
of  tasteless  ambition.  During  many  years  of  residence  abroad,  Mr. 
Bryan  collected  one  after  another  of  these  interesting  works.  To  him 
it  was  a labor  of  love.  At  Paris  he  enjoyed  signal  advantages  ; and  there 
are  many  exquisite  specimens  of  the  early  French,  Flemish  and  Italian 
schools  in  his  gallery,  such  as  are  not  now  to  be  obtained  at  any  price. 
As  a colledtion,  it  is  remarkable  for  the  number  of  small  masterpieces — 
those  gems  which  the  amateur  loves  to  hang  in  library,  boudoir  and  salon, 
and  contemplate  habitually,  and  with  unsated  relish.  We  remember  pic- 


Introduction. 


13 


tures  of  Teniers,  Ruysdael,  Watteau,  Wouverman,  etc.,  which 
discover  new  charms  the  more  they  are  studied ; add  to  these  the  fine 
exemplars  of  Italian  masters,  and  several  valuable  historical  portraits 
acquired  in  this  country — such  as  a Washington,  by  Stuart — and 
Priestley  and  Jefferson,  by  Peale — and  it  is  not  easy  to  estimate 
the  importance  of  such  a collection  as  the  basis  of  a Metropolitan  gallery. 
We  remember  when  Mr.  Bryan  first  brought  his  pictures  to  New  York, 
that  a call  upon  him  was  like  visiting  a venerable  burgomaster  of  Holland, 
or  a merchant-prince  of  Florence,  in  her  palmy  days.  He  had  collected 
his  treasures  in  the  second  story  of  a private  building  on  Broadway,  and 
seated  there,  a vigilant  and  enamored  custode,  in  an  old  arm-chair,  with 
his  snow-white  hair,  gazing  round  the  walls  covered  with  mellow  tints, 
delicious  figures,  vivid  or  picturesque  landscapes — chef s-dt  oeuvre  of  picto- 
rial art,  hallowed  and  endeared  by  memorable  names, — he  seemed  to  be- 
long to  another  sphere,  and  we  to  have  wandered  from  Babel  to  Elysium 
in  thus  entering  his  gallery  from  bustling  and  garish  Broadway.  And 
now  that  he  and  others  have  bestowed  art-treasures  on  our  city,  let  us 
appreciate  the  gift  by  making  them  the  starting-point  of  an  enterprise 
worthy  of  a cultivated  people  in  a prosperous  Republic, — a permanent  and 
precious  shrine  and  heritage  of  art,  to  honor,  elevate  and  refine  the  pros- 
perous but  perverted  instinCts  of  humanity,  here  and  now,  and  modify  the 
material  tendencies  of  luxury  and  traffic  by  the  presence  of  that  truth  and 
beauty  which,  accessible  in  daily  life,  are  the  most  conservative  of  moral 
agencies,  and  the  most  inspiring  means  of  popular  culture. 

To  these  auspicious  indications  of  art-study,  progress  and  taste,  many 
others  could  be  added,  suggestive  of  the  growing  interest  of  the  American 
public  in  the  subjeCt,  and  the  more  intelligent  enterprise  exercised  in  its 
behalf.  We  may  cite,  for  instance,  the  free  education,  in  elementary  art, 
afforded  by  the  benevolent  founder  of  the  Cooper  Institute,  in  New  York. 
Under  the  scientific  training  of  Dr.  Rimmer,  and  the  effective  co-opera- 
tion of  many  ladies  of  the  city,  poor  women  acquire  skill  in  wood-engraving 
so  as  to  obtain  an  honorable  subsistence  thereby  ; others  have  developed 
superior  capacity  in  plastic  art,  and  become  accomplished  in  drawing  and 
designing.  The  careful  anatomical  instruction  of  Dr.  Rimmer  initiates  a 
thorough  system  of  art-knowledge  and  practice.  Yale  College  has  recently 
been  endowed  with  an  Art-fund,  which  will  lead  to  pictorial  exhibitions,  a 
permanent  gallery,  and  professional  instruction.  In  Hartford,  Connecticut, 
is  a permanent  art-exhibition,  at  the  Wadsworth  Gallery  ; in  Brooklyn, 
Long  Island,  an  aCtive  and  prosperous  art-association, — and  in  Boston  a 
tasteful  and  efficient  art-club  ; while,  by  the  recent  aCtion  of  Congress, 
each  State  of  the  Union  has  been  invited  to  fill  certain  niches  or  spaces  in 
the  old  House  of  Representatives,  in  the  Capitol,  at  Washington,  with  two 
statues,  one  of  each  of  its  most  distinguished  men,  civil  and  military. 
These  and  like  projects  and  social  arrangements  promise  a more  judicious 
conservation  of  works  of  art,  a better  method  of  instruction,  desirable 
practical  results,  wider  sympathy,  and  somewhat  of  that  national  pride 


14 


Art  in  America. 


and  love,  which,  once  freely  enlisted  in  the  cause  of  art,  secures  her  pro* 
gress  and  prosperity. 

The  liberality  of  the  citizens  of  New  York  has  enabled  the  National 
Academy  of  Design  to  establish  a home  and  nursery  of  art,  wherein  the 
novice  may  find  all  needful  facilities  for  study  and  practice,  the  adept  a 
secure  and  eligible  exhibition  hall  for  his  work,  and  the  amateur  a shrine 
and  haunt  for  his  favorite  pursuit. 

A characteristic  letter  of  Dr.  Franklin  to  Wilson  Peale,  dated  London, 
July  4,  1771,  prophesies  the  future  prosperity,  while  it  recognizes  the  act- 
ual precarious  tenure  of  Art  in  America.  “ If  I were  to  advise  you,”  says 
the  prudent  philosopher,  “ it  should  be,  by  great  industry  and  frugality  to 
secure  a competency;  for,  as  your  profession  requires  good  eyes,  and 
cannot  so  well  be  followed  yvith  spectacles,  and,  therefore,  will  not  proba- 
bly afford  subsistence  so  long  as  some  other  employments,  you  have  a 
right  to  claim  proportionally  large  rewards,  while  you  continue  able  to 
exercise  it  to  general  satisfaction.  The  Arts  have  always  traveled  west- 
ward ; and  there  is  no  doubt  of  their  flourishing  hereafter  on  our  side  of 
the  Atlantic,  as  the  number  of  wealthy  inhabitants  shall  increase,  who 
may  be  able  and  willing  suitably  to  reward  them  ; since,  from  several  in- 
stances, it  appears  that  our  people  are  not  deficient  in  genius.”  Still  the 
discouragements,  at  this  period,  were  neither  few  nor  small,  even  in  the 
view  of  those  who  now  seem  to  us  to  have  achieved  success.  “ You  have 
come  a great  way  to  starve,”  said  West  to  one  of  his  subsequently  eminent 
countrymen,  who  told  him  he  had  visited  London  to  become  an  historical 
painter.  “ You  had  better  learn  to  make  shoes  or  dig  potatoes,”  said 
Trumbull  to  another  young  aspirant,  “ than  become  a painter  in  this 
country.”  Indeed,  the  instances  of  genius  to  which  Franklin  referred 
were  chiefly  mechanical  and  political.  In  the  useful  arts,  the  Americans 
seemed  destined  to  excel ; in  naval  architecture,  machinery,  and  states- 
manship, they  had  already,  and  have  since  continued  to  win  distinctive 
honors  ; the  Patent  Office  rather  than  Galleries  of  Art  seemed  the  destined 
conservatory  of  national  fame  ; and  it  was  only  by  slow  degrees  that  the 
same  alacrity  and  aptitude  became  manifest  in  the  sphere  of  the  beautiful 
which  so  early  gained  us  prestige  and  promise  in  that  of  the  practical. 

Isolated  and  itinerant,  the  votary  of  Art,  in  the  latter  years  of  our  colo- 
nial and  the  first  of  our  national  existence,  found  his  pursuit  in  America 
as  capriciously  remunerative  as  his  education  therefor  was  limited  and 
accidental.  West,  to  secure  indispensable  resources,  had  to  reside  abroad; 
and  for  many  years  he  was  not  only  the  oracle,  but,  in  the  best  sense,  the 
patron  of  those  of  his  countrymen  who  aspired  to  the  fame  and  the  disci- 
pline of  Art.  Peale,  Trumbull,  Sully,  Fulton,  Dunlap,  Allston,  Malbone, 
Morse,  Leslie,  and  all  our  early  painters,  sought  and  found  in  him  their 
patient  teacher  and  most  efficient  friend.  Their  success,  indeed,  was  long 
dependent  upon  foreign,  and  especially  English  recognition.  The  primal 
impulse  and  resources  of  their  career  indicate  how  little  encouragement 
or  guidance  life  in  America  then  yielded  the  student  of  Art  ; and  the  same 


Introduction. 


15 


precarious  aids  are  characteristic  of  the  initiation  of  those  who  subse- 
quently adopted  the  vocation.  Trumbull  and  Allston  found  in  a copy  of 
Vandyke,  Malbone  in  scene-painting,  and  Cole  in  the  sight  of  a traveling 
limner’s  apparatus,  the  first  authentic  hints  of  their  chosen  pursuit.  Pat- 
ronage was  also  as  diverse  in  the  Old  World  as  in  the  New  ; no  Royal 
Society  awarded  the  prize  to  the  young  American  at  home,  and,  when  a 
student  in  Rome,  he  found  no  national  academy  such  as  represents  and 
fosters  there  the  artistic  culture  of  older  countries.  He  looked  to  individ- 
uals for  support,  and  the  early  and  later  history  of  American  Art  honorably 
identifies  commercial  success  with  tasteful  liberality.  Citizens  of  wealth 
or  social  influence  almost  invariably  extended  seasonable  aid  to  the  young 
and  gifted  in  this  career  ; and  in  after  years  they  gratefully  trace  their  first 
success  to  the  sympathy  or  beneficence  of  their  prosperous  countrymen. 
Cooper  gave  Greenough  his  first  commission  ; Longworth  stretched  out 
the  right  hand  of  liberal  fellowship  to  Powers  and  scores  of  young  West- 
ern artists  ; Luman  Reed  first  encouraged  Cole  and  Durand  ; the  women 
of  Kentucky  sent  Hart  to  Italy  to  model  their  great  statesman, — and  Leutze 
found  his  earliest  encouragement  in  the  personal  interest  and  judicious 
orders  of  three  American  merchants.  The  artist,  like  the  author,  in 
America,  finds  his  best  and  most  legitimate  sphere  of  work  and  honor  in 
social  rather  than  official  life.  It  is  true  the  exigencies  of  political  routine 
or  popular  favor  give  rise  to  commissions.  Portraits  of  municipal  and 
military  heroes  are  annually  ordered  ; but,  with  few  exceptions,  they  are 
as  uninspired  in  execution  as  they  are  uninteresting  in  subjedt.  The 
whole  history  of  what  may  be  termed  the  conventional  nurture  of  Art  in 
America  is  as  remarkable  a contrast  to  the  means  thus  employed  in 
Europe  as  it  is  illustrative  of  the  democratic  tendencies  of  our  professional, 
not  less  than  our  political,  life. 

Local  institutions  for  the  encouragement  of  Art  spring  up  and  decline 
with  the  same  facility  as  those  associations  designed  for  less  permanent 
objedts  ; yet,  in  several  of  our  principal  cities,  there  have  been  collections 
of  pidlures  accessible  to  students  and  the  public  ; and  with  every  succeed- 
ing year  the  facilities  both  for  education  and  enjoyment  in  Art  have  in- 
creased. Peale,  soon  after  the  Revolutionary  War,  established  his  once 
famous  Museum  in  Philadelphia,  of  which  national  portraits  were  the  chief 
attradtion  ; and  that  city  now  boasts  of  one  of  the  most  eligible  Art  Acade- 
mies in  the  country.  The  Boston  Athenaeum  early  commenced  the  ac- 
quisition of  works  of  Art,  some  of  which  are  invaluable  trophies  of  native 
genius  ; and  the  Trumbull  Gallery  at  New  Haven,  Connedlicut,  is  full  of 
interest ; while  in  many  of  the  Western  cities,  annual  exhibitions  and  pri- 
vate taste  indicate  the  growth  of  interest  in  this  once  ignored  and  beautiful 
economy  of  life.  In  1807,  an  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts  was  founded  in 
New  York,  under  the  auspices  of  Livingston,  Clinton,  Hosack,  Fulton, 
Colden,  and  other  prominent  citizens,  to  which  the  first  Napoleon  sent 
casts  from  the  antique  and  valuable  engravings,  and  of  which  Colonel 
Trumbull  was  the  first  President.  Needed!  and  controversy  soon  baffled 


i6 


Art  in  America. 


its  usefulness  and  narrowed  its  means.  Revived  in  1 8 1 6 by  the  advent  of 
West’s  pictures  and  Vanderlyn’s  “Ariadne,”  encouraged  by  the  eloquent 
addresses  of  Clinton,  Hosack,  and  Francis,  and  its  practical  utility  en- 
hanced by  regular  instruction  in  anatomy,  the  opposition  of  cliques,  and 
an  unfortunate  conflagration  which  destroyed  the  best  part  of  its  models 
and  drawings  in  1828,  led  to  a reconstruction,  of  which  the  result  was 
the  National  Academy  of  Design.  Professor  Morse,  who  had  originated 
the  earliest  social  organization  of  New  York  Artists,  became  the  first 
President.  The  earliest  professional  art-anatomical  leCturer  in  New  York 
thus  describes  the  experiment : — 

“The  organization  of  the  first  association  in  this  city,  under  the  name 
of  the  ‘New  York  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,’  was  in  1801.  In  1808,  it  re- 
ceived the  act  of  incorporation  under  the  name  of  the  ‘ American  Academy 
of  Fine  Arts,’  and  Chancellor  Livingston  was  chosen  President ; Colonel 
John  Trumbull,  Vice-President ; Dewitt  Clinton,  David  Hosack,  John  R. 
Murray,  William  Cutting,  and  Charles  Wilkes,  Directors.  If  we  add  the 
names  of  C.  D.  Colden,  Edward  Livingston,  and  Robert  Fulton,  we  in- 
clude in  this  enumeration  the  leading  New-Yorkers  who,  for  years,  were 
liberal  in  their  patronage  to  promote  the  undertaking.  Through  the 
instrumentality  of  the  American  Minister  at  the  Court  of  France,  Napoleon 
presented  to  the  institution  many  valuable  busts,  antique  statues,  and  rare 
prints.  After  several  years  of  trial  and  neglect,  it  was  revived  in  1816. 
Certain  paintings  of  West,  which  for  a time  were  added  to  its  collections 
through  the  kindness  of  Robert  Fulton,  with  the  ‘Ariadne’  of Vanderlyn, 
and  other  results  of  the  easel  of  that  distinguished  artist,  sustained  it  for  a 
few  years  longer  from  dissolution  ; while  the  several  addresses  of  Clinton, 
Hosack,  and  Trumbull,  gave  it  for  a season  additional  popularity.  At  this 
particular  crisis  in  the  Academy,  a measure  long  contemplated  was  at- 
tempted to  be  carried  into  effedt,  viz.,  the  organization  of  a School  of 
Instruction,  with  models  and  ledtures  ; but  the  straitened  condition  of 
the  Academy  put  a period  to  all  plans  cherished  to  protedt  its  duration 
and  increase  its  usefulness.  With  the  downfall  of  the  American  Academy, 
the  National  Academy  of  Design  took  its  rise  about  1828.  S.  F.  B. 
Morse,  who  has  recently  become  so  famous  by  his  invention  of  the  elec- 
tric telegraph,  was  eledted  President  ; and  the  constitutional  provisions  of 
this  association  being  far  more  acceptable  to  the  feelings  and  views  of  a 
large  majority  of  the  artists  than  the  old  Academy  favored,  it  has  proved 
an  eminently  successful  corporation,  and  has  aided  in  numerous  ways  the 
promotion  of  its  specified  objedts, — the  Arts  of  Design.  The  plan  of  Ana- 
tomical Ledtures  was  now  carried  into  effedt,  and  Morse,  and  Dr.  F.  G. 
Kinpr,  <rave  instruction  to  numerous  scholars  for  a succession  of  years. 
The  devotion  given  to  this  institution  by  Thomas  S.  Cummings,  in  the 
instruction  he  imparted  to  students  of  art  in  the  life  and  antique  school, 
also  proved  a source  of  gratification  and  improvement.”  * 


* “ Old  New  York.’* 


Introduction. 


17 

The  Apollo  Association,  the  Sketch  Club,  and  the  Art-Union,  repre- 
sented and  promoted  the  Art-interests  of  the  city.  The  latter  institution 
is  characteristic  of  the  age  ; it  exhibits  the  alliance  between  luxury  and 
work,  society  and  culture — the  fusion  of  interests  and  influences  so  pecu- 
liar to  later  civilization.  It  emphatically  marks  the  era  when  Art,  eman- 
cipated from  the  care  of  Kings  and  Popes,  finds  sustenance  by  alliance 
with  commerce  and  the  people.  Originated  by  a French  amateur,  the 
Societe  des  Amis  des  Arts  soon  became  a popular  model.  Artists  are 
proverbially  inexpert  in  affairs  ; academies  are  proverbially  jealous  of 
their  privileges  ; and,  therefore,  the  facilities  which  Art-Unions  yield, 
both  to  the  artists  who  desire  an  eligible  market  for  their  wares,  and  for 
purchasers  whose  tasteful  enthusiasm  outruns  their  means,  were  at  once 
recognized  and  adopted.  The  Art-Union  of  Berlin  was  essentially  pro- 
moted by  Humboldt ; that  of  Bremen  boasts  a fine  edifice  ; in  Prague, 
Vienna,  and  Diisseldorf,  these  institutions  for  the  “purchase  of  pictures, 
to  be  disposed  of  by  lot,”  have  been  remarkably  efficient,  both  in  develop- 
ing artistic  talent  and  distributing  works  of  merit.  In  London,  a few  years 
ago,  the  annual  subscriptions  reached  a hundred  thousand  dollars.  The 
American  Art-Union  was  established  in  1839,  anc^  f°r  ten  years>  was  a 
most  successful  medium  for  the  direCt  encouragement  of  native  art : its 
income  reached  the  sum  mentioned  as  that  of  the  London  subscriptions  ; 
it  annually  distributed  from  five  hundred  to  more  than  a thousand  works 
of  Art ; it  published  a series  of  popular  engravings  from  American  pic- 
tures, and  during  several  years  issued  a Bulletin,  wherein  much  valuable 
criticism,  a complete  record  of  the  artistic  achievement  of  the  country, 
and  a large  amount  of  interesting  information  as  to  the  Art  and  Artists 
of  Europe,  were  embodied  for  immediate  satisfaction  and  future  reference. 
Several  American  Artists,  who  have  since  achieved  high  and  prosperous 
careers,  were  first  substantially  encouraged,  and  their  claims  made  patent 
by  the  seasonable  commissions  of  the  Art-Union.  After  a brief  period  of 
eminent  service,  the  institution  was  broken  up,  on  account  of  the  alleged 
violation  its  course  offered  to  the  lottery  prohibitions  of  the  State  law. 
Perhaps  it  ceased  at  a time  when  its  best  work  had  been  accomplished, 
and  when  American  Art  had  acquired  enough  native  impulse  and  self- 
reliance  to  flourish  without  such  extraneous  support ; but,  in  the  retro- 
spect of  our  brief  artistic  annals,  the  Art-Union  marks  a period  of  fresh 
progress  and  assured  prosperity. 

Constant,  indeed,  though  irregular,  has  been  the  increase  of  means, 
appliances,  resources,  and  recognition,  in  native  Art.  From  annual  me- 
tropolitan, we  have  advanced  to  frequent  exhibitions  in  every  part  of  the 
land, — those  held  within  a few  years  at  Providence,  R.  I. ; Albany,  Buffalo, 
Troy,  and  Utica,  N.  Y. ; Chicago,  111.;  Baltimore,  Md. ; Washington,  D. 
C. ; Portland,  Me.;  Charleston,  S.  C. ; New  Haven,  Ct.,  and  elsewhere, 
having  brought  together  a surprising  display  of  superior  achievement  in  Art, 
the  result  of  native  talent  or  tasteful  purchases  of  old  and  new  foreign  works. 

Let  us  rejoice,  also,  that  American  Art  has,  at  last,  been  recognized  as 


is 


Art  in  America. 


a faCt  abroad.  A permanent  group  surrounded  the  “ Greek  Slave  ” at  the 
Manchester  Exhibition;  Crawford’s  equestrian  statue  of  Washington  was 
the  admiration  of  Munich  ; Leutze’s  departure  from  Diisseldorf  is  regret- 
ted as  the  loss  of  a leading  spirit  of  its  famous  school ; Allston’s  pictures 
are  &mong  the  most  cherished  in  the  noble  collections  in  England ; 
Story’s  “ Cleopatra,”  and  the  landscapes  of  Church,  Cropsey,  and  others, 
have  won  high  critical  encomiums  in  London. 

At  the  late  Fine  Art  Exhibitions  in  Antwerp  and  Brussels,  several 
landscapes  by  American  painters  attracted  much  attention.  The  Ameri- 
can Minister  at  Belgium,  Mr.  Sandford,  writes  that  an  artist  of  Brussels, 
of  much  merit  and  celebrity,  declared  the  works  of  our  artists  there  exhib- 
ited to  be  among  the  most  characteristic  of  the  kind  ever  brought  to  that 
city,  and  that  admiring  .crowds  were  gathered  around  them  at  all  hours. 
Hubbard’s  “ Afternoon  in  Autumn  ” was  especially  regarded  with  appre- 
ciation, and  Rogers’s  statuette  groups,  derived  from  incidents  of  the  war, 
also  attracted  great  attention.  At  the  Antwerp  exhibition,  one  of  Ken- 
sett’s  landscapes  occupied  the  post  of  honor,  and  a noted  piCture-dealer 
of  that  city  has  made  a proposal  to  the  artist  to  paint  exclusively  for  that 
market,  offering  large  prices  as  inducements  for  so  doing.  Pictures  by 
Gifford,  Hart,  and  others,  were  also  favorably  remarked  upon. 

“ The  American  collection,  as  a whole,  attraCls  attention,  and  has  been 
very  highly  praised  by  the  first  artists  of  France,”  writes  an  intelligent 
critic  of  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1867.  “It  is  hardly  possible  to  visit  it 
without  encountering  some  celebrity,  and  it  is  amusing  to  hear  the  surprise 
which  is  expressed  at  the  progress  which  America  is  supposed  to  have 
made  during  the  past  two  or  three  years — or  since  they  knew  there  was 
such  a country.  Church’s  1 Niagara’  is  once  more  enjoying  a career, 
and  the  ‘ Rainy  Seasons  in  the  Tropics,’  with  its  double  rainbow,  has  its 
admirers.  The  originality  of  this  artist,  more  than  his  technical  skill  with 
the  brush,  entitles  him  to  the  leading  position.  The  two  pictures  here 
exhibited  illustrate  the  force  and  accuracy  of  a peculiar  mode  of  observa- 
tion, and  of  a manner  of  composition  which  is  quite  free  from  the  consid- 
eration of  schools. 

“ Every  nation  thinks  that  it  can  paint  landscape  better  than  its  neighbor ; 
but  it  is  not  every  nation  that  goes  about  the  task  in  a way  peculiar  to 
itself.  No  one  is  likely  to  mistake  an  American  landscape  for  the  land- 
scape of  any  other  country.  It  bears  its  nationality  upon  its  face  smilingly. 
The  poetic  repose  of  Gifford  is  exquisitely  presented  in  his  ‘ Twilight  on 
Mount  Hunter,’  one  of  the  finest  pictures  in  the  collection.  Winslow 
Homer’s  strongly  defined  war-sketches  are  examined  with  much  curiosity, 
especially  the  well-known  canvas,  ‘ Prisoners  to  the  Front.’  Hunting- 
don’s 4 Republican  Court’  is  in  a good  place,  and  is  generally  surrounded 
by  a crowd.  It  is  not  often  that  so  many  pretty  women  can  be  seen 
together  as  in  this  graceful  imagining  of  an  impossible  event.  Eastman 
Johnson  exhibits  four  canvases,  all  of  them  too  well  known  to  need  par- 
ticular reference.  There  are  not  many  genre  pictures  in  the  Exposition 


Introduction. 


19 


that  excel  these.  They  have  the  merit,  too,  of  being  true  and  faithful 
transcripts  of  American  life,  or  of  a phase  of  it  which,  as  it  has  now  passed 
away,  can  only  be  recalled  by  the  pencil  of  the  artist.” 

Of  private  collections,  some  of  which  were  kept  together  but  a few 
years,  and  others,  which  are  still  the  source  of  great  and  instructive  enjoy- 
ment to  our  citizens,  may  be  mentioned  those  of  Gilmore  and  Walters,  of 
Baltimore  ; Meade,  Snider,  Towne,  Carey,  Fales,  and  Harrison,  of  Philadel- 
phia; Hosack,  Hone,  Reed,  Leupp,  Cozzens,  Lenox,  Roberts,  Stuart,  Os- 
born, Olyphant,  Nye,  Bryan,  Boker,  Hunter,  Belmont,  Aspinwall,  Johnston, 
Blodgett,  and  others,  of  New  York;  Corcoran,  of  Washington  ; Shoen- 
berger,  of  Pittsburgh  ; Longworth,  of  Cincinnati,  etc.,  etc. 

“In  the  history  of  certain  races  of  mankind  it  is  related,”  said  Bryant, 
(when  the  corner-stone  of  the  New  York  Academy  of  Design*  was  laid, 
Odtober  19th,  1863),  “that  in  the  earlier  stages  of  their  civilization  they 
led  a wandering  life,  dwelling  in  tents,  migrating  from  place  to  place,  and 
pasturing  their  herds  wherever  the  glitter  of  cool  waters  or  the  verdure  of 
fresh  grass  attracted  them.  As  they  made  one  advance  after  another  in 
the  arts  of  life,  and  grew  numerous  from  year  to  year,  they  began  to  dwell 
in  fixed  habitations,  to  parcel  out  the  soil  by  metes  and  bounds,  to  gather 
themselves  into  villages  and  to  build  cities.  So  it  has  been  with  this 
Academy.  For  more  than  a third  of  a century  it  had  a nomadic  existence, 
pitching  its  tent,  now  here  and  now  there,  as  convenience  might  dictate, 
but  never  possessing  a permanent  seat.  It  is  at  last  enabled,  through  the 
munificence  of  the  citizens  of  New  York — a munificence  worthy  of  the 
greatness  of  our  capital  and  most  honorable  to  the  character  of  those  who 
inhabit  it — to  ereCt  a building  suitable  for  its  purposes  and  in  some  degree 
'commensurate  with  the  greatness  of  its  objeCts.  It  no  longer  leads  a pre- 
carious life  ; the  generosity  of  its  friends  ensures  it  an  existence  which 
will  endure  as  long  as  this  city  shall  remain  the  seat  of  a mighty  com- 
merce. When  this  institution  came  into  existence  I could  count  the 
eminent  artists  of  the  country  on  my  fingers.  Now,  what  man  among  us 
is  able  to  enumerate  all  the  clever  men  in  the  United  States  who  have 
devoted  the  efforts  of  their  genius  to  the  Fine  Arts  ? For  a taste  so 
widely  diffused  we  must  have  edifices  of  ample  dimensions  and  imposing 
architecture,  dedicated  to  that  purpose  alone,  and  one  such  we  shall  pos- 
sess hereafter  in  the  Temple  of  Art  whose  corner-stone  we  are  this  day 
assembled  to  lay.” 

* The  Academy  is  one  of  the  finest  buildings  in  the  city.  It  consists  of  three  stories  and  a base- 
ment. The  main  front  extends  along  Twenty-third  street  for  eighty  feet,  and  the  side  front  has  a 
depth  of  one  hundred  feet  on  Fourth  avenue.  Both  faces  are  of  white  Westchester  county  marble 
banded  with  North  river  graywacke  stone,  except  the  basement,  which  is  of  gray  Hastings  marble, 
banded  with  graywacke,  and  the  third  story,  which  shows  a capricious  and  beautiful  blending  of  white 
and  gray  marble.  The  external  decorations  of  the  building  are  rich  but  simple.  There  is  a fine  flight 
of  steps  on  the  Twenty-third  street  front,  and  a portico,  the  ornamentation  of  which  is  in  the  highest 
and  most  expensive  style  of  carving  and  statuary.  The  style  is  like  the  famed  Ducal  palace  at  Venice 

The  building  and  ground  cost  about  two  hundred  thousand  dollars — most  of  which  has  been  con- 
tributed by  our  wealthy  citizens,  lovers  of  art.  The  basement  story  is  for  the  necessary  offices,  and 
the  upper  stories  for  exhibition,  ledture,  and  school-room. 


* 


20  Art  in  America . 

The  increased  value  of  Art,  as  a commodity,  and  of  its  appreciation  as 
an  element  of  luxury,  if  not  of  culture,  is  evinced  by  the  statistics  of  the 
Picture  trade  in  the  commercial  metropolis.  Twenty-five  years  ago  and 
less,  what  were  called  the  “ old  masters  ” occasionally  had  purchasers 
among  us  ; but  so  few  were  those  who  took  any  interest  in,  and  professed 
any  taste  for,  works  of  art,  that  they  formed  a very  small  and  exceptional 
class.  A person  known  as  “old  Paff”  sold  more  pictures  than  any  other' 
dealer ; he  was  an  eccentric  man,  and  his  place  of  business  was  where  the 
Astor  House  now  stands.  Paff,  we  are  told,  always  had  something  new 
in  the  old  line.  “ Ah,  Mr.  Reed,”  said  he,  to  one  of  the  most  liberal  and 
discriminating  of  the  early  friends  of  American  art,  in  New  York,  “ der  is 
a gem  for  you,  but  I don’t  think  I sell  it  to  you.  I was  cleaning  a land- 
scape I bought  at  auction,  and  I cleaned  one  corner  a leetle  hard  and  I 
thought  I saw  something  underneath,  and  sure  enough,  some  one  has 
stolen  an  old  master  in  Italy,  and  painted  a landscape  over  it  to  prevent 
detection,  and  now  I have  him.  I don’t  know,  but  I think  it  is  a Correg- 
gio. I sell  him  now  for  one  t’ousan’ dollar.  But  come  to-morrow.”  Well, 
he  came  to-morrow,  and  the  picture  was  all  cleaned  and  varnished,  with  a 
nice  glass  in  front.  “ Ah,  Mr.  Reed,  I can’t  sell  him  for  one  t’ousan’ ; it  is 
a fine  Vandyke,  here  is  the  original  engraving  of  it ; no  doubt  about  it.  I 
must  have  five  t’ousan’  dollars  for  it.”  Then  came  old  Aaron  Levy,  whose 
evening  audlion  sales  are  remembered  by  a few  of  our  older  citizens. 
These  were  the  predecessors  of  Leeds  & Co.  Soon  after  they  commenced 
the  occasional  public  sale  of  pictures,  an  eminent  merchant  of  the  city  re- 
marked to  the  senior  member  of  the  firm  one  day,  that  he  had  done  a very 
foolish  thing,  and  was  ashamed  of  having  thrown  away  thirty-five  dollars 
for  a pidlure  ; the  same  gentleman,  however,  died  leaving  ten  thousand 
dollars’  worth  of  paintings.  One  of  the  earliest  consignments  from  Italy, 
received  by  Leeds  & Co.,  was  a collection  of  pictures  belonging  to  the 
estate  of  Cardinal  Fesch  ; he  gave  a standing  order  to  his  faCtor,  to  pur- 
chase any  picture  offered  for  sale  at  four  scudi — expeCting  to  find  some 
valuable  works  in  the  mass  thus  collected,  which  he  had  examined,  every 
now  and  then,  by  an  expert.  The  experiment  was  successful ; several  rare 
and  precious  works  were  thus  obtained  ; doubtless,  in  some  instances, 
they  had  been  stolen.  In  the  spring  of  1839,  in  the  old  Academy  galleries 
was  exhibited  one  of  the  finest  collections  of  pictures  ever  brought  to  this 
country,  known  as  the  “Abraham  collection.”  It  was  said  that  the  pictures 
were  entrusted  to  him  to  be  cleaned,  and  were  removed  here.  Among 
them  were  a fine  Claude  and  Murillo.  The  exhibition  was  stopped  by  a 
law  process,  and  the  reputed  owner  incarcerated  ; subsequently  a com- 
promise was  effected.  He  left  in  this  country  an  original  miniature  por- 
trait of  Oliver  Cromwell,  by  Cooper.*  The  four  hundred  pictures  from 
the  Fesch  Gallery  were  sold  by  Leeds  & Co.,  eighteen  years  ago,  at  the 
rate  of  from  two  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  each  ; one  was  bought 


* Annals  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design. 


Introduction, 


21 


for  six  dollars  and  a half ; the  purchaser  took  it,  with  others,  to  New 
Orleans,  and  among  them  was  one  a connoisseur  evinced  great  anxiety  to 
buy,  which  excited  the  hopes  of  the  owner  ; it  proved  to  be  a Correggio — 
was  purchased  for  three  thousand  dollars,  and  taken  to  England,  where  a 
nobleman  bought  it  for  two  thousand  guineas.  American  Art  was  then  in 
its  infancy  ; but  Vanderlyn  and  others  had  already  obtained  high  prices  ; 
and  gradually  a taste  for  foreign  modern  art  sprang  up.  And  this 
was  a great  benefit  to  our  artists,  as  it  made  pictures  better  known  and 
more  interesting  to  the  people  than  they  had  ever  been  ; thenceforth  the 
sales  increased  in  number  and  pecuniary  results.  Leeds  & Co.,  twenty 
years  ago,  sold  seventy-five  thousand  dollars’  worth  of  pictures  annually  ; 
fifteen  years  ago  the  amount  of  their  sales  was  two  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars ; ten  years  since,  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  ; and  from  that 
time,  every  year,  the  demand  and  supply  have  constantly  expanded.  They 
have  sold  many  American  single  pictures  for  five  thousand  dollars, — one 
by  Bierstadt  for  seven  thousand  two  hundred  dollars.  The  sale  of  the 
Boker  collection  of  Diisseldorf  pictures,  and  that  of  the  Hunter  collection 
of  Italian,  are  comparatively  recent.  In  December,  1863,  they  sold  the  pri- 
vate collection  of  Mr.  John  Wolfe,  of  New  York,  for  over  one  hundred  and 
eleven  thousand  dollars,  which  "was  then  considered  the  largest  and  best 
sale  ever  made  in  this  country.  Many  of  their  sales  range  from  twenty  to 
sixty  thousand  dollars;  those  made  gratuitously  for  the  Artists’  Fund 
Society,  for  the  last  seven  years,  and  consisting  of  pictures  contributed  by 
the  artists  for  a charity  fund  for  the  bereaved  families  of  their  comrades, 
have  averaged  from  three  to  eight  thousand  dollars.  One  of  the  most  re- 
markable of  their  sales  of  American  pictures  was  held  the  present  year, 
and  consisted  of  small  works  (from  eight  to  ten  and  twelve  inches)  ; many 
of  them,  however,  highly  finished  and  characteristic  : one  hundred  in  num- 
ber, they  brought  twenty  thousand  dollars  ; and  one,  a small  head  of  Elliot, 
painted  by  himself,  eight  hundred.  These  faCts  might  be  indefinitely 
multiplied  : it  is  enough  to  add  that  Leeds  & Co.,  after  leaving  their  dingy 
auCtion  room  in  Nassau  street  for  the  Diisseldorf  Gallery,  have  been 
obliged,  by  the  extent  and  popularity  of  this  once  utterly  negleCted  branch 
of  business,  to  open  an  elegant  permanent  Art  Gallery  in  the  upper  part 
of  Broadway,  for  the  exhibition  and  sale  of  pictures, — which  is  a favorite 
place  of  resort,  and  the  frequent  scene  of  amusing  competition  between 
rival  purchasers  of  an  “old  master,”  a modern  European  gem,  or  the  work 
of  a favorite  American  artist.  The  “ International  Art-Institution,”  in  New 
York,  distributes  works  of  the  best  German  artists.  For  several  years  two 
foreign  houses  in  New  York  have  been  largely  engaged  in  the  importation 
and  sale  of  modern  European  pictures  ; and  some  idea  of  the  amount  ex- 
pended for  such  works  may  be  inferred  from  the  faCt  that,  during  the  past 
year,  1866-7,  Goupil  & Co.  disposed  of  pictures  by  such  artists  as  Auchen- 
bach,  Bouguereau,  Frere,  Fichel,  Gerome,  Meissonier,  Merle,  Troyon,  Wil- 
lems, etc.,  amounting  in  the  aggregate  to  three  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

Within  a few  years  past,  American  artists,  especially  painters,  have,  in 


22 


Art  in  America . 


many  instances,  been  remunerated  for  their  labor  far  beyond  its  adtual  mar- 
ket value,  if  we  take  European  prices  as  a standard.  One  cause  of  this 
is  the  sudden  prosperity  of  an  imperfedtly  educated  class,  who,  with  little 
discrimination,  and  as  a matter  of  fashion,  devote  a portion  of  their  newly 
acquired  riches  to  the  purchase  of  pictures  ; and  as  our  artists  have  of  late 
established  a certain  social  prestige,  friendly  influences  are  not  wanting  to 
secure  their  liberal  patronage.  In  fadt,  the  entire  relation  of  Art  to  the 
public  has  changed  within  the  last  ten  years : its  produdts  are  a more 
familiar  commodity  ; studio-buildings,  artist-receptions,  auction  sales  of 
special  productions,  the  influence  of  the  press,  constant  exhibitions,  and 
the  popularity  of  certain  foreign  and  native  painters,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
multiplication  of  copies,  the  brisk  trade  in  “ old  masters,”  the  increase  of 
travel  securing  a vast  interchange  of  artistic  products — these  and  many 
other  circumstances  have’ greatly  increased  the  mercantile  and  social  impor- 
tance of  Art.  Where  there  is  absolute  talent  and  consistent  industry,  the 
vocation  is  no  longer  precarious  ; and  among  the  many  contrasts  which 
the  enlightenment  and  prosperity  of  our  country  offer  to  refledtive  observ- 
ation, there  is  none  more  striking  than  that  between  the  early  and  isolated 
struggles,  and  the  adtual  appreciation  and  success,  of  the  genuine  artist  in 
America. 

It  is  remarkable  how  many  American  artists  were  originally  apt  in,  or 
dependent  upon,  mechanical  skill.  Peale  and  Powers,  Durand  and  Palmer, 
Chapman  and  Kensett,  were  disciplined  for  pidtorial  or  plastic  work  by  the 
finer  process  of  workmanship  in  machinery,  watchmaking,  carving,  or 
engraving.  Another  characteristic  is  their  versatility  of  talent.  Allston, 
Leslie,  Greenough,  Cole,  Akers,  Story,  and  many  other  American  artists, 
are  endeared  or  admired  as  writers.  We  find  also,  in  their  respedtive 
traits,  something  kindred,  however  inferior,  to  the  special  excellences  of 
“old  masters,”  or  modern  transatlantic  artists:  Allston  was  called  the 
American  Titian  at  Rome  ; and  Page  and  Gray  assimilate  to  that  peerless 
master  of  color  ; there  is  a Moreland  vein  in  Mount’s  happiest  concep- 
tions : somewhat  of  Hogarth  and  Wilkie  in  Darley : Inman  at  his  best  has 
been  compared  to  Lawrence,  and  Boughton,  Hunt,  and  Staigg  to  Frere. 
It  was  admitted  a few  years  since  at  Rome,  that  the  best  modern  copy  of 
the  Beatrice  came  from  the  pencil  of  Cephas  G.  Thompson,  and  the  best  re- 
production of  a Claude  sunset  from  that  of  George  L.  Brown.  We  thus 
often  recognize  in  the  crude  efforts  of  American  limners  a true  vein  of  tra- 
ditional art,  and  feel  that,  under  favorable  circumstances,  it  might  have 
developed  into  completeness  and  charadter,  instead  of  flitting  across  the 
dream  of  youth,  and  awaking  the  sigh  of  patriotic  contemplation  at  its 
casual  aspedt  and  evanescent  life. 

Another  obvious  characteristic  of  our  artists,  as  a body,  and  viewed  in 
comparison  with  those  of  Europe,  is  the  inequality  of  their  productions. 
Abroad  we  are  accustomed  to  recognize  a different  manner,  as  it  is  termed, 
in  the  works  of  painters,  according  to  the  epoch,  from  Raphael  to  Wilkie. 
Two  classes  of  pictures,  two  kinds  or  degrees  of  style,  identify  different 


Introduction. 


23 


periods  of  the  artistic  career ; but  in  America  the  variations  of  ability  or 
merit  in  the  results  of  individual  art  are  unparalleled.  We  can  sometimes 
hardly  realize  that  the  same  hand  is  responsible  for  the  various  works  attrib- 
uted thereto,  so  wide  is  the  interval  between  crudity  and  finish,  expres- 
sion and  indifference,  between  the  best  and  worst  pidtures  : so  many  are 
experimental  in  their  work,  so  few  regularly  progressive.  The  imperfedt 
training,  the  pressure  of  necessity,  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  life,  the  absence 
of  a just  and  firm  critical  influence,  and  a carelessness  which  scorns  pains- 
taking as  a habit,  and  is  only  temporarily  corredted  by  the  intervention  of 
some  happy  moment  of  inspiration  and  high  encouragement — are  among 
the  manifest  causes  of  this  remarkable  inequality.  Incomplete  endowment, 
and  “ devotion  to  the  immediate,”  explain  these  incongruities  of  artist-life 
and  pradtice  in  America.  A “ knack  at  catching  a likeness  ” has  often 
been  the  whole  capital  of  a popular  limner,  whose  portraits,  in  many  in- 
stances, are  the  sole  memorials  of  endeared  progenitors  in  family  homes, 
and,  as  such,  cherished  despite  the  violations  of  drawing,  and  absurdities 
of  color,  apparent  to  the  least  pradlised  eye.  In  other  cases  there  is  a 
sense  of  color  without  knowledge  of  any  other  artistic  requisite  for  a 
painter  ; and  by  virtue  of  this  one  faculty  or  facility,  the  so-called  artist 
will  execute  dazzling  historical  or  allegorical  works,  sometimes  on  a large 
scale,  and  find  their  exhibition  in  the  rural  distridts  amply  remunerative. 
It  not  seldom  happens,  also,  that  a really  skilled  draughtsman  and  color- 
ist, whose  best  portraits  are  deservedly  considered  triumphs  of  skill  or 
taste,  will,  for  a certain  time,  and  in  certain  places,  and  for  special  ends, 
turn  his  art  into  a trade,  dash  off  likenesses  cheap  and  fast,  fill  his  purse, 
and  compromise  his  fame  ; so  that  those  only  acquainted  with  his  carefully 
executed  works,  upon  encountering  these  impromptu  results  of  reckless 
thrift,  will  gaze  incredulously,  and  perchance  indignantly  thereon. 

What  Lord  Bacon  says  of  the  pursuit  of  learning  is  often  applicable  here 
to  that  of  art — temporary  motives  and  unworthy  compromise  often  degrad- 
ing the  ideal  and  dwarfing  the  result:  “Men  have  entered  into  a desire 
of  learning  and  knowledge,  sometimes  upon  a natural  curiosity  and  inquisi- 
tive appetite ; sometimes  to  entertain  their  minds  with  variety  and  de- 
light ; sometimes,  for  ornament  and  reputation  ; and  sometimes  to  enable 
them  to  a victory  of  wit  and  contradiction,  and  most  times  for  lucre  and 
profession  ; and  seldom  sincerely  to  give  a true  account  of  their  gift  of 
reason,  to  the  benefit  and  use  of  men  ; as  if  there  were  sought,  in  know- 
ledge, a couch,  whereupon  to  rest  a searching  and  restless  spirit ; or  a 
terrace  for  a wandering  and  variable  mind  to  walk  up  and  down  with  a 
fair  prospedt ; or  a tower  of  state  for  a proud  mind  to  raise  itself  upon  ; or 
a fort  of  commanding  ground,  for  strife  and  contention  ; or  a shop,  for 
profit  and  sale  ; and  not  a rich  storehouse,  for  the  glory  of  the  Creator, 
and  the  relief  of  man’s  estate.” 

It  is  evident  that  Art  in  America,  as  a social  and  aesthetic  element,  has 
formidable  obstacles  wherewith  to  contend  ; the  spirit  of  trade  often  de- 
grades its  legitimate  claims ; its  thrifty,  but  ungifted  votaries  thereby 


24 


Art  in  America. 


achieve  a temporary  and  factitious  success,  while  its  conscientious  and 
aspiring  devotees  often  pine  in  negleCfc.  The  lottery  system,  under  different 
forms,  and  the  “tricks  of  trade,”  still  further  materialize  what  should  be 
an  artistic  standard  ; criticism,  so  called,  ranging  from  indiscriminate  abuse 
to  fulsome  partiality,  rarely  yields  instructive  lessons  ; fashion,  ignorance, 
the  necessity  of  subsistence,  the  absence  of  settled  principles  of  judgment 
in  the  public,  and  of  intelligent  method,  scope,  and  aim  in  the  artist,  tend 
still  further  to  lower  and  confuse  the  pursuit.  But  on  the  other  hand, 
charityand  patriotism,  perseverance  and  progress,  self-respeCt  and  earnest- 
ness, continually  vindicate  the  character  and  claims  of  American  artists. 
Among  them  are  some  noble  men  and  refined  associates,  whose  influence 
and  example  are  singularly  benign  ; the  war  for  the  Union  had  no  more 
disinterested  volunteers,  and  the  Pro  P atria  inscribed  on  the  pictures  they 
contributed  to  the  Sanitary  Fair  was  the  watchword  of  their  conduCt  in 
that  perilous  time.  Very  true  to  their  intuitions  and  special  faculty,  also, 
are  many  of  our  artists,  working  on  in  modest  self-reliance,  undeterred  by 
vulgar  abuse,  cold  indifference,  or  the  temptation  to  compromise  honest 
conviCtion  and  the  higher  claims  of  an  intellectual  profession. 

Critical  observers  have  a good  opportunity  to  judge  of  the  respective 
merits  of  the  different  foreign  schools  of  painting,  as  far  as  initiatory  dis- 
cipline is  concerned,  in  comparing  the  American  eleves  of  the  Paris  atelier , 
the  Diisseldorf  professor,  and  the  Italian  academies  ; while  the  works  of 
our  native  painters,  especially  in  landscape,  who  have  never  been  abroad, 
offer  another  illustration  of  what  may  be  called  the  educational  system  of 
Art.  Accuracy  and  facility  in  drawing  are  generally  conceded  to  the  pupils 
of  French  artists,  a rare  knowledge  of  elementary  principles  of  painting  to 
those  who  faithfully  improve  the  advantages  of  the  best  German  schools  ; 
and  a certain  bold  adherence  to  nature,  and  fresh  and  firm  grasp  of  her 
realities,  have  been  recognized  as  characteristic  of  the  best  untravelled 
native  limners. 

It  is  a trite  maxim,  that  Art,  to  be  at  all  valuable  or  significant,  must  be 
true  ; but  there  are  many  kinds  and  degrees  of  truth  : the  literal  truth  of  the 
Dutch,  the  suggestive  truth  of  the  English,  the  truth  of  sentiment  of  the 
Italian,  the  technical  truth  of  the  French  school.  In  Egypt,  the  monumen- 
tal solemnity  of  Art,  however  enigmatical,  is  characteristic  of  a bygone 
civilization,  and,  therefore,  of  deep  historical  interest.  In  China,  the  very 
ugliness  and  mosaic  imitation  in  Art  is  negatively  eloquent  of  a stationary 
civilization.  Greece,  in  her  immortal  types  of  beauty  ; Etruria,  with  her 
graceful,  massive,  but  limited  forms  and  phases  of  Art ; the  Nineveh  mar- 
bles, the  mediaeval  tapestry  and  carvings,  the  religious  Art  of  Spain  and 
Italy,  the  domestic  scenes,  which,  from  Gainsborough  and  Hogarth  to 
Leslie  and  Wilkie,  identify  British  Art,  each  and  all  are  true,  either  to  an 
epoch,  a faith,  a national  taste,  or  a sentiment  of  humanity  ; and  yet  how 
widely  separated  in  merit,  in  interest,  and  in  beauty  ! Here,  in  America, 
as  we  have  seen.  Art  long  struggled  against  the  tide  of  thrift,  political 
excitement,  and  social  ambition.  The  tranquillity,  the  individuality,  the 


Introduction. 


25 


pure  and  patient  self-reliance  and  unworldliness,  which  is  its  native  atmos- 
phere, have  been  and  are  alien  to  the  tone  and  temper  of  our  national  life. 
But,  on  this  very  account,  is  the  ministry  of  Art  more  needful  and  pre- 
cious ; and  with  all  the  critical  depreciation  which  stridl  justice  may  de- 
mand, we  find,  in  the  record  and  the  observation  of  artist-life  in  America, 
its  association  and  its  influence,  a singular  balm  and  blessing.  Consider 
it,  for  instance,  as  manifest  in  our  great  commercial  centre  and  metropolis. 

Reader,  did  you  ever  spring  into  an  omnibus  at  the  head  of  Wall  street, 
with  a resolution  to  seek  a more  humanizing  element  of  life  than  the  hard 
struggle  for  pecuniary  triumphs  ? Did  you  ever  come  out  of  a Fifth 
avenue  palace,  your  eyes  wearied  by  a glare  of  bright  and  varied  colors, 
your  mind  oppressed  with  a nightmare  of  upholstery,  and  your  conscience 
reproachful  on  account  of  an  hour’s  idle  gossip  ? Did  you  ever  walk  up 
Broadway,  soon  after  meridian,  and  look  into  the  stony,  haggard,  or  frivo- 
lous countenances  of  the  throng,  listen  to  the  shouts  of  omnibus-drivers, 
mark  the  gaudy  silks  of  bankrupts’  wives,  and  lose  yourself  the  while  in  a 
retrospective  dream  of  country-life,  or  a sojourn  in  an  old  deserted  city  of 
Europe  ? A reaction  such  as  this  is  certain,  at  times,  to  occur  in  the 
mood  of  the  dweller  in  the  kaleidoscope  of  New  York  ; and  as  it  is  usually 
induced  by  an  interval  of  leisure,  we  deem  it  a kindly  hint  to  suggest 
where  an  antidote  may  be  found  for  the  bane,  and  how  the  imagination 
may  be  lured,  at  once,  into  a new  sphere,  and  the  heart  refreshed  by  a less 
artificial  and  turbid  phase  of  this  mundane  existence.  Go  and  see  the 
artists.  They  are  scattered  all  over  the  metropolis  : sometimes  to  be 
found  in  a lofty  attic,  at  others  in  a hotel ; here  over  a shop,  there  in  a 
back-parlor;  now  in  the  old  Dispensary,  and  again  in  the  new  University  ; 
in  Studio  Building  or  Academy,  isolated  or  in  small  groups,  they  live  in 
their  own  fashion,  not  a few  practising  rigid  and  ingenious  economies  ; 
others  nightly  in  elite  circles  or  at  sumptuous  dinners  ; some  genially  cra- 
dled in  a domestic  nest,  and  others  philosophically  forlorn  in  bacheloric 
solitude.  But  wherever  found,  there  is  a certain  atmosphere  of  content, 
of  independence,  and  of  originality  in  their  domiciles.  I confess  that  the 
ease,  the  frankness,  the  sense  of  humor  and  of  beauty  I often  discover  in 
these  artistic  nooks,  puts  me  quite  out  of  conceit  of  prescriptive  formali- 
ties. Our  systematic  and  prosaic  life  ignores,  indeed,  scenes  like  these  ; 
but  the  true  artist  is  essentially  the  same  everywhere — a child  of  nature, 
to  whom  “ a thing  of  beauty  is  a joy  forever ; ” and,  therefore,  a visit  to 
the  New  York  studios  cannot  fail  to  be  suggestive  and  pleasing,  if  we  only 
go  thither,  not  in  a critical,  but  in  a sympathetic  mood. 

Even  where  we  find  no  new  and  remarkable  work,  there  are  sketches 
and  figures  that  excite  the  most  congenial  reminiscences.  To  the  traveler, 
who  cherishes  Italian  memories,  there  is  somewhat  of  the  poetry  of  life  in 
a “ Beggar-Child,”  who  looks  as  if  he  had  just  stepped  out  from  an  angle 
of  the  Piazza  d’Espagna  or  the  shadow  of  Trajan’s  Column,  so  much  of  the 
physiognomy  and  the  magnetism  of  the  clime  are  incarnated  in  lorm,  com- 
plexion, attitude,  eye,  and  expression.  Equally  suggestive  are  the  Pifferini , 


2 6 


Art  in  America. 


sure  to  be  found  in  some  studio,  two  of  those  picturesque  figures  that 
swarm  in  Rome  at  Christmas-time,  and  are  indissolubly  associated  with 
her  fetes,  ruins,  and  shrines  ; the  elder  leans  against  a church-wall,  on 
which  the  half-obliterated  ecclesiastical  placard  looks  marvellously  fami- 
liar ; his  peaked  and  broad-brimmed  hat  set  on  his  head  in  a way  inimita- 
ble for  its  effeCt  of  shadow  and  grace,  his  luxuriant  beard,  velvet  jacket, 
effective  attitude,  and  meditative  gaze,  are  precisely  true  to  faCt ; at  his 
side  nestles  a boy,  whose  long  tresses  and  large,  pensive  eyes,  whose 
olive  cheek  and  angelic  smile  remain  indelibly  stamped  on  the  memory  of 
all  recent  visitors  to  the  Eternal  City.  We  recognize  in  this  beautiful 
urchin  one  of  the  “ things  of  beauty,”  which  the  English  poet,  who  died  in 
Rome,  has  told  us  so  truly,  “ is  a joy  forever  ; ” the  pilgrim’s  instrument 
is  at  his  feet.  How  come  back  to  the  heart,  as  we  gaze,  the  dreaminess, 
the  calm,  the  sunny  lapse  in  life’s  struggle  in  which  it  was  our  privilege  to 
revel,  and  is  now  our  delight  to  remember,  as  the  most  peaceful  and  bril- 
liant episode  of  our  days  of  foreign  travel ! These  two  figures,  caught 
from  the  passive  life  of  old  Rome,  typify  it  completely  to  the  imagination, 
and  touch  the  key-note  of  an  ended  song. 

Not  the  successful  and  renowned  alone  reward  our  visit ; those  who 
love  and  study  art,  but  fail  to  achieve  greatness  therein,  have  a charm  and 
a lesson  for  the  catholic  observer.  From  the  busy  limner,  whose  fresh 
array  of  pictures  indicates  that  every  passing  hour  brings  its  task,  turn  to 
a dreamer  who  lives  in  the  past,  because  he  is  too  ideal  to  clutch  at  the 
present.  Yet  if  ever  a man  had  the  true  artist-feeling,  the  genuine  sense 
of  beauty  and  poetic  conscience,  it  is  he.  I know  this  from  many  a collo- 
quy with  him  while  strolling  along  the  sunny  bank  of  the  Arno,  and 
through  his  acute  and  sympathetic  comments  in  the  Florence  galleries. 
He  used  to  make  beautiful  impromptu  studies  from  Shakspeare.  He  has 
a keen  perception  of  the  humor  and  the  sentiment  of  the  poet,  and  could 
translate  them  daintily  with  pen  or  crayon.  He  is  one  of  those  artists 
who  should  live  in  Italy : the  executive  is  subordinate  in  him  to  the  imagi- 
native. I found  him  copying  a portrait ; it  was  that  of  a genuine  Italian 
woman : 


“ Heart  on  her  lips  and  soul  within  her  eyes, 

Soft  as  her  clime  and  sunny  as  her  skies.” 

He  was  doing  it  for  the  love  of  the  thing,  wishing  to  preserve  a memorial 
so  characteristic.  I remembered  an  old  man’s  head,  a Tuscan  painter’s 
beard,  and  other  gleanings  from  that  Southern  land  ; and  there  were  books 
I knew  at  a glance  came  from  a stall  in  the  Piazza  del  Duomo,  in  Flor- 
ence. There  he  sat,  intent  on  the  fine  outline  of  the  handsome  Italian, 
contentedly  touching  her  great  orbs  of  jet  with  light,  and  tinting  her 
softly-rounded  olive  cheeks  to  a Fornarina  richness  : the  same  reserved, 
quiet,  and  genial  dreamer  as  years  ago  in  Italy;  never  satisfied  with  his 
achievements,  full  of  sensibility  to  the  claims  and  the  triumphs  of  art,  and 
apparently  content  to  breathe  the  air  made  vital  by  its  enchantments. 


Introduction. 


2 7 


It  is  char  after , as  distinguished  from  vague  imitation  and  inexpressive 
details,  which  is  the  conservative  element  in  pidlorial  art,  and  connects  it 
with  life,  history,  the  affinities  of  individuals,  and  the  sympathies  of  the 
race.  Well  says  an  English  reviewer  : “ What  we  want  is  what  Hogarth 
gave  us — a representation  of  ourselves.”  So  intimate,  however  unconsci- 
ous, is  the  relation  of  the  artist’s  character  to  his  work,  that  one  discrim- 
inating in  moral  indications,  reads,  at  a glance,  the  honest  patience  of  the 
Fleming  in  his  elaborate  fruit-pieces  and  interiors,  the  gentleman  in  Van- 
dyke’s portraits,  the  lover  of  aristocracy  in  Lawrence,  the  shadow  of  the 
Inquisition  in  Spagnoletto,  and  the  saintliness  of  a holy  mind  in  Fra 
Angelico.  Applying  this  test  to  our  American  Art,  we  must  feel  that  its 
grand  deficiency  is  want  of  character;  glimpses,  prophecies,  imperfedt 
developments  thereof  we  discover  ; but  as  a general  rule,  not  enough  to 
suggest  high  independence  or  refined  individuality.  In  truth,  our  art, 
like  our  life,  is  too  subject  to  vicissitude  and  cosmopolitan  influ- 
ences, too  dependent  on  the  market ; most  of  our  artists  paint  to  live, 
hoping,  perhaps,  the  time  may  come  when  they  may  live  to  paint. 
Meantime,  let  us  recognize  whatever  of  truth  and  feeling  redeems  cur- 
rent Art. 

Art  is  a language  : followed  to  its  legitimate  significance,  this  definition 
affords  at  once  a test  and  a suggestion  of  its  character  and  possibilities  ; 
for  language  is  but  the  medium  of  ideas,  the  expression  of  sentiment — it 
may  be  purely  imitative,  or  pregnant  with  individual  meaning — it  may 
breathe  confusion  or  clearness,  emotion  or  formality,  the  commonplace  or 
the  poetic.  The  first  requisite  for  its  use  is  to  hare  something  to  say , and 
the  next,  to  say  it  well.  Now,  unfortunately,  few  artists  escape  the  tyranny 
of  conventionalism  or  the  lures  of  ecledticism  ; they  drudge  too  blindly  in 
the  grooves  of  precedent,  or  they  combine  too  many  foreign  to  assimilate 
native  elements — hence  the  monotony,  mechanical,  uninteresting,  in  Art. 
When  a painter  really  expresses  what  is  in  him,  and  not  what  the  public 
fiat  approves,  or  famous  limners  have  made  manifest  for  ages,  he  is  sure 
to  be  attended  to  if  there  is  a spark  of  artistic  genius  or  feeling  in  his 
nature.  Ruskin,  in  his  sweeping  way,  disapproved  of  the  modern  French 
school,  finding  only  conventional  merit  and  technical  skill  therein  ; modest, 
pains-taking,  ingenuous  little  Frere  sends  a picture  to  the  London  Exhi- 
bition— it  is  only  that  of  a girl  hanging  up  a chaplet ; but  it  told  a story  to 
every  heart ; it  was  full  of  nature,  truth,  expression,  and,  therefore,  more 
ostentatious  pictures  were  neglected,  and  every  one  lingered,  and  gazed, 
and  admired,  and  sympathized  over  that  simple  conception,  by  virtue  of 
that  “one  touch  of  nature  which  makes  the  whole  world  kin.”  Our  peo- 
ple do  not  lack  insight,  observation,  perseverance  ; many  of  our  young 
artists  have  a vein  of  perception  or  feeling  which  they  long  to  express, 
and  at  the  outset,  they  do  express  it — crudely,  perhaps,  but  sincerely ; it 
is  probably  unrecognized  ; they  hear  skilful  execution  praised,  they  find 
mechanical  adepts-  glorified,  and  so  they  turn  aside  from  their  own  inspira- 
tion to  follow  the  multitude  ; they  conform,  and  seek  money,  and  forget 


28 


Art  in  America. 


the  dreams  of  youth  ; what  was  and  is  naive  and  original  in  them  is  over- 
laid and  baffled. 

And  yet  our  atmosphere  of  Freedom,  of  material  activity,  of  freshness 
and  prosperity,  should  animate  the  manly  artist.  He  has  a vantage-ground 
here  unknown  in  the  Old  World,  and  should  work  confidently  therein  for 
the  reason  given  by  Agassiz  in  regard  to  science — the  absence  of  routine. 
Academic  trammels,  prescriptive  patronage,  the  deference  excited  by  great 
exemplars,  do  not  here  subdue  the  artist’s  aspirations,  or  make  him  de- 
spair of  himself,  or  bewilder  his  ideal  of  excellence.  However  little  our 
people  know  about  Art,  they  are  eminently  teachable.  Point  out  what  is 
admirable  or  expressive  in  a picture,  and  they  will  perceive,  remember, 
and  draw  wisdom  from  it.  Let  the  American  artist  rise  above  the  national 
drawbacks,  the  love  of  gain  and  the  conformity  to  public  opinion — let  him 
use  wisely  the  resources  around  him,  and  be  true  to  himself  and  he  can 
achieve  miracles.  But  so  long  as  he  mistakes  notoriety  for  fame,  and  thinks 
more  of  dollars  than  his  artistic  conscience,  his  course  must  be  stationary 
or  retrograde.  “To  a true  man,”  well  says  a recent  writer,  “ fame  is  valu- 
able precisely  as  he  can  solemnly  append  to  it  his  own  signature.” 

Another  disadvantage  under  which  the  American  artist  labors  is  the 
absence  of  a recognized  standard,  test,  and  ordeal,  such  as  a prosperous 
school,  well-endowed  academy,  or  even  a cosmopolitan  gallery  of  pidtures 
and  statues,  provides.  There  may  be  danger  of  slavish  imitation  at  Rome 
and  Florence,  of  local  conformity  at  Diisseldorf,  or  mere  technical  progress 
at  Paris  ; but  in  each  of  these,  and  most  of  the  other  European  cities,  there 
are  resources  in  the  way  of  discipline  and  ideals  of  specific  excellence, 
which  continually  guide  aright,  if  they  do  not  stimulate  to  high  effort. 
These  ample  and  accessible  means,  however  liable  to  abuse,  serve,  at  all 
events,  as  landmarks,  examples,  and  precedents  ; complacency  with  me- 
diocre success,  glaring  faults  of  execution,  gross  errors  of  taste,  are  thereby 
seasonably  corredted  where  there  is  the  slightest  basis  of  good  sense  or 
the  rudiments  of  genuine  capacity. 

In  the  New  World,  on  the  contrary,  although  admirable  pictures  and 
statues  may  be  found  in  the  large  cities,  and  an  adequate  supply  of  the 
literature  of  Art,  they  are  not  as  accessible,  nor  do  they  find  interpreters 
as  readily  as  in  Europe — so  that  the  novice,  unless  remarkable  for  moral 
energy  and  zeal,  is  liable  to  be  confirmed  in  practical  faults  or  incongruous 
ideas  before  observation  and  study  have  hinted  their  existence.  Hence,  it 
is  not  uncommon  to  find  crudity  in  some  element,  the  effedt  of  early  disad- 
vantage, united  to  great  excellence  in  other  qualities  ; defedtive  drawing, 
for  instance,  with  superior  color,  exadt  imitation  of  form  and  texture  with 
false  perspedlive — skill  in  the  gradation  of  tints,  with  bad  management  of 
light  and  shade  ; doubtless  such  anomalies  are  common  to  the  votaries  of 
art  in  all  countries,  and  arise  from  incomplete  endowments  ; but  they  are 
more  frequent  and  glaring  here,  because  the  correctives  which  acknow- 
ledged masterpieces  supply  are  not  so  patent  and  perpetual ; the  eye  that 
daily  scans  a perfedt  contour  in  the  statue  of  the  wayside,  or  an  exquisite 


Introduction. 


29 


outline  and  tone  in  the  altar-piece  or  family  portrait  always  visible,  is  natu- 
rally quick  to  discern  any  great  deviation  from  truth  and  nature  in  personal 
experiments  with  pencil  and  modelling-stick.  In  a word,  the  education  of 
Art,  partly  unconscious  and  partly  the  result  of  earnest  attention,  derived 
from  the  constant  presence  of  the  best  works,  is,  in  a great  measure,  want- 
ing to  our  young  artists.  There  is  a singular  identity  in  their  experience  : 
first,  the  indication  of  an  aptitude  and  facility  in  imitating  natural  or  arti- 
ficial objects,  inexplicable  on  any  but  intuitive  grounds,  and  exhibited,  per- 
haps, under  circumstances  totally  unsuggestive  of  Art  ; then  the  encour- 
agement of  friends,  an  over-estimate  of  the  promise  thus  foreshadowed,  an 
isolated  practice,  and,  in  some  cases,  marvellous  stumbling  onward,  until 
some  generous  patron,  lucky  hit,  or  fashionable  success,  launches  the  flat- 
tered, confident,  and  not  incapable,  yet  altogether  uneducated  disciple,  into 
a career  which,  according  to  the  strength  or  weakness  of  his  character, 
will  be  a trade,  a trick,  a mechanical  toil,  an  unmeaning  facility,  a patient 
advancement,  or  a triumph  of  genius.  Sometimes  the  appreciation  of  a 
single  great  picture,  the  word  of  a true  artist,  the  inspiration  of  an  exalted 
sentiment,  have  rescued  the  would-be  artist  from  years  of  commonplace 
industry  and  mercenary  toil,  and  placed  him  on  the  track  of  noble  achieve- 
ment and  conscientious  self-devotion. 

But  we  have  only  to  mark  the  prevalent  aims  of  American  life,  and 
analyze  the  spirit  of  our  times  and  people,  to  feel  how  small  the  chances 
are  that  any  such  benign  intervention  will  guide  to  fine  issues,  whatsoever 
of  lofty  and  delicate  power  lives  in  the  awakening  soul  prompt  to  dedicate 
itself  to  Art.  There  is,  first  of  all,  pressing  upon  his  senses  and  belea- 
guering his  mind,  the  ideas  of  material  success,  whereby  not  only  fortune, 
but  wit,  is  measured  in  this  prosperous  land  ; then,  the  fever  and  hurry  bred 
by  commerce,  political  strife,  and  social  ambition,  insensibly  encroach  upon 
artistic  self-possession  ; again,  the  ease  with  which  notoriety  may  be  gained 
through  the  press  and  personal  amenity,  and  the  obtuseness  with  which  it 
is  so  often  mistaken  among  us  for  glory  ; and,  finally,  the  absence  of  that 
intelligent  and  enthusiastic  sympathy,  prompt  to  detect  the  beautiful,  em- 
phatic in  vindicating  the  true,  which  encompassed  the  old  painters  with  a 
vital  atmosphere  of  encouragement,  and  animates  the  best  modern  artists 
of  Germany  and  England,  by  the  honors  of  a munificent  patfonage  and 
national  distinction.  Art  springs  from,  and  is  modified,  as  before  suggest- 
ed, by  individual  character  to  an  unappreciated  degree  ; and  this  subtle, 
yet  shaping  element,  is  obviously  more  exposed  to  coarse  and  indurating 
processes  here  than  in  any  other  civilized  land.  In  Europe  we  encounter 
at  every  step  the  artistic  organization  ; here  it  is  exceptional.  Where 
trade  and  politics,  material  luxury  and  utilitarian  habitudes,  overlay  finer 
mstincts — where  there  is  so  much  struggle,  such  devotion  to  the  immediate, 
such  faith  in  enterprise  and  assertion  of  selfhood — but  small  range  is 
allowed  for  repose,  observation,  and  sympathy  ; and  thus  the  refined  sense, 
the  delicate  feeling,  the  keen  insight,  which  characterize  the  genuine  artist, 
have  little  vantage  for  development.  What  industry,  shrewdness,  and  per- 


30 


Art  in  America. 


tinacity  can  do,  many  effect.  There  are  painters  of  rapid  execution  and 
social  tadt  that  make  money;  but  few  who  have  the  “vision  and  the  faculty 
divine,”  few  who  are  prompted  by  disinterested  enthusiasm,  whose  tone 
of  mind,  force  of  character,  natural  affinities,  draw  them  inevitably  into  the 
sphere  of  form  and  color  as  a native  element  for  their  adtivity  and  happi- 
ness ; the  will  is  more  prominent  in  the  exercise  of  art  here  than  the 
imagination  and  the  affections  ; the  spirit  in  which  most  of  our  artists 
work  is  that  of  trade  rather  than  of  poetry  or  exalted  perception  ; the  con- 
scientiousness which  secures  accuracy , the  observation  which  finds  truthi 
the  chastened  mind  and  sympathetic  feeling  whence  results  harmony , the 
earnestness  that  consecrates  work  to  a deep  significance,  are  rare  qualities 
among  us  ; but  dexterity,  confidence,  a certain  limited  talent,  a peculiar 
cleverness  of  manner  or  aptitude  of  execution,  are  the  usual  warrants  for 
adopting  a vocation  once  held  to  be  justified  only  by  high  gifts  or  vast 
labor.  Where  do  we  behold  that  intense  enjoyment  in  the  use  of  color, 
which  bred  in  the  Venetian  painters  such  brilliant  triumphs  ? Who,  in  this 
land  of  railroads  and  eledtions,  stands  apart  rapt  in  solemn  visions  such  as 
absorbed  of  old  a Durer  or  an  Angelo  ? What  vigils  are  kept  here  over 
casual  effects  of  light  and  shade,  whence  Rembrandt  caught  the  secret  of 
chiar> oscuro  ? Who  studies  reverently  a masterpiece — not  to  imitate  its 
execution,  but  to  catch  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  conceived  ? How  seldom 
do  we  find  any  cognizance  of  the  more  delicate  phenomena  of  clouds, 
foliage,  sunshine,  and  wind,  in  our  walks  and  talks  with  those  who  profess 
to  refledt  nature  on  canvas  ! 

To  muse  of  a fadt  which  transpires  in  the  quiet  workings  of  air  and  vege- 
tation ; to  penetrate,  with  entranced  vision,  the  true  meaning  of  a human 
countenance  ; to  foster  a spiritual  alliance  with  humanity  and  the  outward 
world,  so  as  to  wrest  their  secrets  and  reproduce  their  intimate  charms  as 
only  the  inspiration  of  love  and  wisdom  can — how  incongruous  do  such 
mental  tastes,  such  ideal  tasks,  appear  in  this  our  pradtical  and  busy 
land  ! And  yet,  it  was  by  a study  of  charadter  approaching  to  psycho- 
logical insight,  by  a familiarity  with  nature,  such  as  only  patient  love  in- 
sures ; a sympathy  with  human  life,  as  genuine  as  the  affedtion  of  kindred; 
a relation  with  beauty,  as  real  as  consanguinity  itself — that  enabled  Van- 
dyke and  Murillo,  Claude  and  Leonardo,  to  seize  upon  and  express  truth 
in  Art  ; having  acquired  the  vocabulary,  they  vitalized  it  with  sentiment ; 
and  were,  as  men,  possessed  of  the  unity,  energy,  and  susceptibility  they 
embodied  as  painters. 

Art,  like  everything  else  here,  is  in  a transition  state.  A few  years  ago, 
upon  entering  the  dwelling  of  a prosperous  citizen,  even  in  some  isolated 
district  or  minor  town,  who  boasted  the  refinements  of  an  educated  ances- 
try, we  found  a full-length  portrait  by  Copley,  stiff,  gorgeous,  handsome, 
but  official  in  costume  and  aspect ; or  a vigorous  old  head  by  Stuart,  full 
of  charadter  and  magnificent  in  color  ; or  one  of  those  sweet,  dignified 
little  pastel  profiles  of  Sharpless,  wherein  the  moral  dignity  of  our  Revolu- 
tionary statesmen  seems  gently  incarnated  ; now,  in  addition  to  these 


Introduction. 


31 


quaint  relics,  a landscape  by  Doughty,  Cole,  Kensett,  Church,  Bierstadt, 
or  Durand,  a genre  piece  by  Eastman  Johnson,  a bust  by  Crawford,  Pow- 
ers, or  Palmer,  or  a group  by  Rogers,  some  specimen  of  the  modern 
continental  schools,  with  a good  copy  of  Raphael,  Domenichino,  or  Guido 
— indicate  a larger  sympathy  and  a more  versatile  taste.  In  the  cities, 
this  increase  of  works  of  art  as  household  ornaments  is  remarkable  ; a 
European  amateur  lately  purchased  in  the  United  States  old  pictures  to 
the  value  of  thirty  thousand  dollars,  to  re-transport  across  the  Atlantic  ; 
while  many  gems  are  scattered  through  the  sumptuous  abodes  of  wealth 
and  fashion  throughout  the  land,  and  in  each  metropolis  a rare  pibfcure  or 
new  piece  of  native  statuary  is  constantly  exhibited,  discussed  by  the  press, 
and  admired  by  the  people.  European  travel,  the  writings  of  Art-com- 
mentators, clubs,  and  academies,  the  charming  or  tragic  biographies  of 
artists,  ledlures,  more  discrimination  in  architecture,  a love  of  collecting 
standard  engravings,  the  reciprocal  influence  in  society  of  artists  and  ama- 
teurs, and  their  friendly  cooperation  ; these,  and  such  as  these,  are  among 
the  striking  means  and  evidences  of  progressive  intelligence  and  sympathy 
among  us  in  regard  to  Art -her  trophies,  principles,  and  votaries. 

There  are  two  methods  of  arriving  at  the  philosophy  of  this  subjeCt : 
analyzing  the  endowments,  the  development  of  which  gives  birth  to  Art, 
and  tracing  its  external  history,  or  the  conditions  which  have  fostered  and 
secured  that  development.  It  is  evident  that  from  the  very  origin  to  the 
culmination  of  Sculpture  in  Greece,  and  of  Painting  in  Italy,  while  execu- 
tive skill  was  gradually  acquired  through  minute  and  patient  observation 
and  faithful  practice,  the  vital  expression  which  has  conserved  through 
ages,  and  hallowed  to  universal  admiration  the  great  exemplars  in  both 
these  spheres  of  culture  and  creation,  was  born  of  sentiment — the  love  of 
Beauty  and  the  consecration  of  Religion  ; these  linked  the  produCt  of 
Art  to  the  popular  apprehension  and  love, — gave  it  an  absolute  and  pro- 
found significance,  by  virtue  of  which  the  artist  was  perpetually  inspired. 
If  Byzantine  form  and  color  initiated  the  Italian  limner  into  the  elements, 
Worship  kindled  those  mechanical  agents  into  life  ; the  Church  and  the 
State,  the  Rulers  and  the  People,  Faith  and  Public  Spirit,  combined  to 
give  an  impulse  and  an  aim  to  the  old  masters,  which  elicited  and  defined 
their  original  proclivities,  and  lifted  their  scope  far  above  mere  selfish 
ambition  and  personal  ends.  Those  primitive  mosaics  in  the  old  churches 
of  the  Peninsula,  which  we  gaze  upon  with  curious  wonder,  rudely  shaped 
upon  dome  and  arch — the  sacred  figure  of  the  Virgin,  or  the  holy  symbol 
of  the  Cross — though  coarsely  imitative,  were  then  of  vast  import. 
Cimabue  at  first  drew  animals  and  faces  at  school,  and  found  the  shep- 
herd Giotto’s  eyes  busy  with  tracing,  instead  of  vigilant  of  his  flock — -just 
as  West  sketched  the  slumbering  child  with  a brush  made  of  a cat’s  hair, 
and  as  Powers,  in  an  isolated  Western  town,  moulded  wax  effigies. 
Original  instindt  was  the  same  ; but,  in  the  former,  how  soon  the  tenden- 
cy or  talent,  thus  spontaneously  manifest,  became  an  occasion  of  sympa- 
thy and  encouragement  to  princes  and  citizens,  a means  of  social  welfare, 


32 


Art  in  America. 


an  interest  allied  to  the  most  exalted  aspirations  of  humanity  ! Soon, 
thus  warmed  and  purified,  the  stiff  outline  beamed  with  divine  meaning, 
the  constrained  style  grew  free,  tenderness  softened,  and  humility  or  love 
elevated,  the  countenance  of  Christ,  Madonna,  Angel,  Saint,  or  Child,  so 
that  it  is  easy  to  trace  from  Cimabue  to  Perugino,  and  thence  to  Raphael, 
through  the  long  intermediate  succession  of  painters,  the  growing  beauty, 
grace,  and  power,  which  the  latter’s  pencil  consummated  for  all  time. 
How  much  less  direct  and  more  complex  are  the  social  influences  which 
now  environ  the  artist ! What  isolation,  vagueness,  caprice,  and  super- 
ficial motives,  act  upon  him  in  comparison  ! The  dominant  ideas  then 
were  few,  but  concentrated  ; analysis  had  not  broken  up  the  freshness 
and  diffused  the  power  of  Belief ; Civilization  had  not  complicated  the 
interests  and  diversified  the  objects  of  human  life  ; the  soldier,  the  priest, 
the  statesman,  the  poet,  stood  forth  with  unchallenged  individuality ; 
society  had  not  invaded  the  mystic  unity  of  nature  ; there  was  room  and 
reason  for  reverence,  enthusiasm,  and  ideality,  in  their  integrity  ; and  so  it 
was,  that  to  work  in  the  domain  of  Art  had  a recognized  grandeur,  a per- 
manent end,  an  immediate  appeal  to  heart  and  eye,  to  mind  and  national 
pride,  which  have  infinitely  subsided  with  the  triumphs  of  knowledge, 
trade,  comfort,  and  even  political  freedom,  by  raising  the  average  of  mate- 
rial well-being,  and  denuding  the  arrangements  and  functions  of  govern- 
ment and  religion  of  the  sentiment  and  picturesqueness  which  made  them 
splendid  realities  to  sense  and  soul,  if  not  to  reason  and  will.  According- 
ly the  artist  of  old  strove  for  complete  equipment ; the  great  painters 
could  model  and  design  as  well  as  draw  and  color.  Giotto  designed  the 
exquisite  “Campanile:”  Michael  Angelo  left  as  memorable  architectural 
as  pictorial  and  sculptured  trophies.  What  the  news  of  a victory  is  to 
Paris,  or  the  success  of  a party  election  to  New  York,  was  the  advent  of 
a new  work  of  artistic  genius  to  Florence  and  Rome.  So  vehement  were 
the  plaudits  which  attended  the  unveiling  of  Cimabue’s  “ Madonna,”  that 
the  place  thenceforth  was  called  Borgo  d? Allegri ; and  the  years  of  toil 
which  Ghiberti  devoted  to  the  bronze  gates  of  the  Baptistery  gained  him 
forever  the  title  of  public  benefactor  ; illustrious  painters  were  named  from 
their  birthplace,  so  entwined  was  the  triumph  of  their  art  with  national 
pride.  Fra  Angelico  prayed  before  he  seized  the  brush,  as  one  conse- 
crated to  a religious  vocation  ; Fra  Bartolomeo  was  the  friend  of  Savona- 
rola, to  Lorenzo  and  Leo  X.  Art  enterprise  was  among  the  most  im- 
portant interests  of  private  feeling  and  public  administration.  The  study 
of  Plato,  at  the  revival  of  learning,  recalled  the  claims  of  “the  antique” 
as  a means  of  culture  and  standard  of  taste,  so  that,  in  Padua,  classic 
knowledge,  while  it  found  a shrine  in  the  University,  guided  the  students 
of  Art  at  the  Academy  ; cities  were  as  much  identified  by  schools  of  paint- 
ing as  by  the  Courts  that  ruled,  the  Trades  that  enriched,  or  the  Wars 
that  signalized  them.  Rome,  Venice,  and  Parma  gloried  in  Raphael, 
Titian,  and  Correggio,  as  much  as  in  the  princes,  warriors,  and  scholars, 
who  ennobled  their  annals.  How  readily  arrogant  Pope  Julius  forgave 


Introduction. 


33 


Michael  Angelo  ! How  tenderly  Francis  I.  watched  over  the  infirm  Leo- 
nardo Da  Vinci ! The  Emperor  Charles  venerated  Titian,  and  Correggio 
was  one  of  the  few  seledt  witnesses  to  his  sovereign’s  marriage  ; while 
Raphael  was  the  intimate  companion  of  the  leaders  in  church,  state, 
learning,  and  society,  of  the  Capital  of  Christendom.  These  and  innume- 
rable other  fadts  illustrate  how,  in  the  palmy  days  of  Italian  Art,  her  most 
gifted  disciples  were  in  the  nearest  relation  to  the  most  effective  social 
agencies  of  their  age — those  of  character,  of  position,  and  of  popular  feel- 
ing. In  a high  sense  they  were  representative  men — the  expositors  of  the 
deepest  sentiment  of  their  time,  of  what  was  most  patriotic  and  poetical, 
most  holy  and  most  influential ; they  gave  “ a local  habitation  ” to  the 
dreams  of  faith,  a living  resemblance  to  the  objedts  of  worship,  a visible 
embodiment  to  the  resignation,  the  hope,  the  martyrdom,  the  saintliness, 
the  ecstasy,  the  remorse,  the  sacrifice,  the  beatitude,  the  miracle,  the 
repentance,  the  divine  love,  which  then  and  there  warmed,  raised,  melted, 
revived,  purified,  and  consecrated  humanity — in  its  sorrows,  aspirations, 
and  “ longings  after  immortality.” 

Being  thus  an  element  and  not  an  accident — a flowering,  and  not  a 
graft — of  human  life  and  economy,  we  perceive  how  and  why  a natural 
aptitude  was  cherished,  quickened,  expanded,  raised,  and,  as  it  were,  in- 
spired,— the  outward  circumstances,  the  living  atmosphere,  coalescing  with 
the  inward  purpose  and  ability,  and  thus  lifting  them  to  a plane  of  earnest 
strife  towards  perfection,  concentrating  the  will  by  a heartfelt  zeal,  and 
fusing  individual  purpose  with  universal  sympathy.  How  isolated  is  the 
artist  of  to-day  in  comparison  ! Even  in  Paris,  political  prejudices  cast 
out  the  followers  of  David  from  the  kindly  recognition  of  the  romantic  in- 
novators : and,  later  still,  Ary  Scheffer,  and  Delaroche,  because  they 
would  not  acknowledge  an  Imperial  usurper,  were  unsustained  by  national 
encouragement.  Even  the  successful  English  painters  subsist  on  a casual, 
though  noble  patronage,  in  their  works  as  in  their  lives  illustrating  the 
limited  range  even  of  a triumphant  specialty  in  Art ; while  here  in  Ameri- 
ca, despite  a few  scattered  fraternities,  more  convivial  and  benevolent  than 
artistic,  the  painter  and  the  sculptor,  for  the  most  part,  work  apart ; follow, 
perhaps  industriously,  a branch  of  the  most  liberal  of  all  pursuits  in  a 
spirit  of  meritorious  patience,  with  precarious  reward,  spasmodic  success, 
and  incomplete  results. 

The  effect  of  these  adverse  influences  is,  not  to  extinguish  the  love  or 
to  quell  the  talent  for  Art,  but  to  limit  the  development  of  both  among  us. 
Indeed,  a somewhat  remarkable  interest  in  the  subjedt  prevails  ; a piano 
is  found  in  dwellings  on  the  extreme  line  of  civilization  ; the  mechanical 
processes,  which  imitate  and  preserve  features  and  scenes,  are  universally 
adtive  ; nowhere  is  the  daguerreotype,  photography,  wood,  steel,  and  mez- 
zotint engraving  more  subservient  to  popular  uses  ; singers  and  instru- 
mental performers  reap  golden  harvests  ; vast  quantities  of  music  are 
sold  ; pictorial  exhibitions  attradl  all  classes  ; our  journals  abound,  with 
glowing  tributes  to  native  genius,  which  springs  up  unexpedtedly  in  re- 

3 


34 


Art  in  America. 


mote  quarters.  Fashion  annually  extends  her  capricious  hand,  in  our 
large  cities,  to  some  fortunate  limner  to  whom  “ everybody  sits  ; ” hun- 
dreds of  painters  among  us  can  execute  a likeness  which  no  one  ever 
mistakes  ; to  run  the  fingers  over  ivory  keys  with  superficial  dexterity,  to 
sketch  a little  from  nature,  to  own  a tolerable  landscape  or  engraving,  to 
read  Ruskin  and  Mrs.  Jameson,  and  buy  “old  masters”  at  auction  for  a 
song,  are  among  the  most  common  of  our  social  phenomena.  The  stereo- 
scope is  a familiar  drawing-room  pastime  ; Art-unions  and  pidture-raffles, 
the  eclat  of  a new  or  the  purchase  of  an  old  painting,  Art-criticism.  Art- 
clubs,  Art-journals,  are  no  longer  novelties.  But  while  a superficial  ob- 
server might  infer  from  these  “signs  of  the  times”  an  auspicious  future 
for  Art  in  America,  and  while  they  undoubtedly  evince  a tendency  in 
the  right  direction — when  we  consider  that,  justly  regarded,  this  great 
means  of  culture  and  sphere  of  genius  is  positively  degraded  by  mediocri- 
ty— that  it  is  sacred  to  Beauty,  Truth,  and  high  significance,  moral  and 
intellectual,  and,  therefore,  absolutely  demands  accuracy,  harmony,  power, 
grace,  purity,  expression,  and  individuality,  as  normal  attributes  ; and  re- 
member how  much  more  these  are  the  exceptions  than  the  rule — to  what 
a complacent  level,  to  what  an  exclusive  mechanical  facility  and  economi- 
cal spirit,  the  feeling  for,  and  practice  of  Art  is  often  reduced  among  us — 
these  indications  of  a superficial  recognition  of  its  claims  must  be  taken 
with  allowance.  The  instinctive  aptitude,  the  normal  love,  exist  in  abun- 
dance ; but  only  occasionally  are  they  intensified  into  lofty  achievement  or 
elevated  into  a legitimate  standard  of  taste.  The  caricatures  in  “Punch,” 
the  rude  “ counterfeit  presentment  ” of  a popular  statesman,  the  wooden 
filigree  of  an  anomalous  villa,  the  coarsely  “illustrated”  paper,  delineating 
an  event  or  a personage  about  which  the  town  is  occupied  ; bank-bill  vig- 
nettes, Ethiopian  minstrels,  and  “the  portrait  of  a gentleman,”  form  the 
staple  Art-language  for  the  masses  ; and,  in  all  this,  there  is  little  to  kin- 
dle aspiration,  to  refine  the  judgment,  or  to  hint  the  infinite  possibilities 
of  Art.  We  have  abundance  of  assiduous  painters,  who  exhaust  a town 
in  a month  in  delineations  of  its  leading  citizens,  fill  their  purses,  and 
inherit  a crop  of  newspaper  puffs;  but  give  no  “local  inhabitation  or 
name  ” to  any  idea,  principle,  sentiment,  or  even  rule  of  Art ; we  have 
abundance  of  croaking  artists,  who  dally  with  the  pencil  and  moan  over 
their  poverty  and  negleCted  genius  ; there  is  no  lack  of  prodigies  of  juve- 
nile talent,  who  never  realize  the  prophecies  that  hailed  their  first  at- 
tempts ; and  in  every  city  may  be  found  stationary  devotees  of  the  palette, 
who,  partly  from  indolence,  partly  from  egotism,  and  not  a little  from  dis- 
couragement, have  settled  down  into  a mannerism  in  which  there  is  no 
vitality,  and,  therefore,  no  progress. 

A single  masterpiece  of  Art  may  be  the  product  of  individual  genius 
self-sustained  ; indeed,  we  have  many  traditions  and  authentic  histories  of 
achievements  wrought  out  under  the  most  unpropitious  circumstances  and 
from  the  inspired  energy  born  in  isolated  minds,  like  the  miracles  created 
in  monastic  solitude,  captivity,  and  the  lonely  toil  of  enthusiasts.  But 


Introduction. 


35 


when  a grand  succession  of  immortal  conceptions  signalizes  an  era  or  a 
nation,  we  can  always  trace  the  phenomenon  to  the  coincidence  of  genius 
with  the  discipline  and  the  ardor  fostered  by  a dominant  public  sentiment 
or  accepted  faith. 

But  it  is  not  alone  a lack  of  enlightened  public  sympathy  and  extensive 
accesable  resources  for  self-culture,  against  which  the  artist  contends  in 
America.  The  history  of  Government  patronage,  thus  far,  shows  a lament- 
able ignorance  and  presumption  in  dealing  with  Art  as  a national  interest ; 
only  to  a limited  degree  have  men  acquainted  with  the  subject  had  a poten- 
tial voice  in  assigning  commissions  or  regulating  decorative  work ; con- 
tracts have  been  secured  in  this,  as  in  other  departments,  through  local 
and  personal  influence,  irrespective  of  capacity  ; in  more  than  one  instance 
the  higgling  spirit  of  bargain,  instead  of  the  generous  recognition  of  just 
claims,  artistic  and  native,  has  been  disgracefully  exhibited  ; men  in  power, 
wholly  unversed  in  Art,  have  gratuitously  pronounced  the  most  superficial 
judgments,  and  aCted  upon  them  to  the  detriment  of  the  highest  interests 
of  the  people  and  of  native  talent ; no  single  harmonized  plan  or  principle 
has  governed  the  adornment  or  extension  of  the  Capitol,  which,  therefore, 
inevitably  presents  a most  incongruous  combination  of  good  and  bad 
effeCts,  commonplace  and  superior  ornaments — architectural,  statuesque, 
and  pictorial — brought  together  in  a desultory,  casual  manner  ; and  the 
achievements  of  as  many  different  minds,  schools,  and  degrees  of  capacity, 
as  there  are  separate  items  in  the  record.  Our  representatives  have  mani- 
fested no  perception  of  what  is  due  either  to  Art  or  to  her  genuine  votaries  ; 
the  former  has  been  treated  without  a particle  of  feeling  for  its  unities,  its 
intrinsic  significance,  and  its  national  claims  ; and  the  latter,  like  so  many 
pedlers,  expeCted  to  compete  with  their  wares  and  be  favored  according  to 
their  politics,  diplomatic  taCt,  local  origin,  or  some  other  quality  or  circum- 
stance apart  from  the  only  test  and  criterion  applicable  in  the  premises  — 
ability  to  execute  a noble,  patriotic  trust,  and  produce  an  indisputable 
artistic  work. 

There  are,  indeed,  some  exceptions  to  this  programme  ; there  have  been 
men  of  taste  on  Art  Committees  in  Congress,  and  men  of  genius  have  left 
their  sign-manual  upon  national  commissions  ; we  do  not  forget  what  has 
been  worthily  accomplished  ; but  that  the  direction  of  public  works  of 
Art,  the  appropriations  of  public  money  to  this  object,  the  distribution, 
selection,  and  general  administration  of  this  high  economy,  have  been,  for 
the  most  part,  ill-considered,  inadequate,  arbitrary,  and  tasteless,  are  faCts 
proved  by  the  frequent  and  reasonable  protests  in  the  journals,  by  the  cor- 
respondence of  artists  employed  by  the  Government,  by  the  visible  results 
at  Washington,  and,  finally,  by  the  Convention  held  there  before  the  War 
for  the  Union,  expressly  to  obtain  from  Congress  the  appointment  of  a 
Board  of  Commissioners,  to  be  formed  of  artists  of  recognized  intelligence 
and  impartiality,  to  administer  this  negledted  and  perverted  interest  This 
movement,  if  wisely  consummated,  will  be  a propitious  reform.  If  we  turn 
from  Government  to  private  encouragement,  we  find  that  the  latter  inclines 


36 


Art  in  America. 


chiefly  to  foreign  products  ; portraits  alone  are  in  constant  demand  from 
native  studios  ; men  of  wealth,  observation,  and  travel,  who  aim  at  a col- 
ledlion  of  fine  pictures,  are  usually  devotees  of  the  “ old  masters,”  or  ad- 
mirers of  the  modern  schools  of  England,  Germany,  and  France  ; and  the 
most  patriotic  critic  must  admit  that  they  often  have  ample  reason  for  the 
preference,  both  as  a matter  of  taste  and  as  a judicious  investment. 

As  ornaments  to  a drawing-room  or  subjects  of  habitual  contemplation, 
a first-rate  copy  of  Raphael,  Claude,  or  Leonardo,  one  of  Landseer’s  ani- 
mal groups,  a cattle-scene  by  Rosa  Bonheur,  a landscape  by  Auchenbach, 
a domestic,  historical,  or  natural  study  by  one  of  those  pains-taking,  fresh, 
faithful,  and  feeling  limners  of  Germany,  France,  or  Belgium,  specimens 
of  whose  skill  and  genial  cleverness  attracted  so  many  admirers  in  New 
York  during  successive  ^seasons — being  absolutely  “ things  of  beauty,” 
and,  therefore,  “ a joy  forever,”  appeal  to  the  purse  and  eye  of  the  judicious 
infinitely  more  than  the  average  crude  efforts  of  native  art.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  points  of  excellence  in  our  artists,  the  things  they  are  capable  of 
doing  well  and  have  so  done,  have  not  been  adequately  estimated  by  their 
wealthy  and  tasteful  countrymen.  The  few  collectors  who,  with  indepen- 
dent and  sympathetic  taste,  have  seen  and  prized  native  ability  in  art,  have 
been  amply  rewarded  by  securing  many  admirable  landscapes,  some  few 
creditable  genre  or  historical  pictures,  really  good  ideal  heads,  or  effective 
portraits,  and  exquisite  pieces  of  sculpture,  which  mark  the  progress  and 
vindicate  the  power  of  art  among  us.  Enough  is  thus  displayed  to  show 
that  whoever,  in  the  spirit  of  the  best  English  patrons,  will  recognize 
genius,  encourage  its  efforts,  watch,  with  a fostering  eye,  its  emanations, 
and  generously  provide  for  its  success,  will,  in  many  instances,  find  a 
double  recompense  in  the  possession  of  works  patiently  and  earnestly  pro- 
duced, and  in  the  consciousness  of  doing  what  the  ignorant,  the  careless, 
and  the  prejudiced  fail  to  do  for  the  sensitive  and  aspiring,  but  often  dis- 
couraged, and  perhaps  indignent  artist,  otherwise  doomed  to  work  only  for 
bread,  and  feed  the  hope  of  excellence  upon  delusive  dreams  and  baffled 
endeavor.  The  same  causes  which  limit  the  patronage  of  art  among  us 
send  its  worthiest  disciples  to  Rome,  Paris,  and  Diisseldorf,  where  ample 
facilities,  abundant  sympathy,  and  the  “honor”  which  never  attends 
“ a prophet  in  his  own  country,”  await  the  earnest  student.  Crawford  and 
Leutze,  Powers  and  Leslie,  owe  the  best  part  of  their  acquired  skill  and 
their  wide  renown  to  means  and  influences,  opportunities  and  encourage- 
ments, secured  by  expatriation  to  an  atmosphere  more  congenial  to  Art 
than  that  of  our  externally  prosperous,  but  socially  material  republic. 
Reputations  are  too  easily  made  ; fashion,  and  the  kind  of  arrangements 
which  bespeak  the  mart  and  the  stock  company — the  same  machinery,  in 
a word,  that  works  such  miracles  in  political  and  mercantile  enterprise — 
are  resorted  to  for  the  promotion  of  what,  in  its  very  nature,  demands  calm 
attention,  gradual  methods,  a process  and  an  impulse  essentially  thought- 
ful, earnest,  and  individual.  These  methods  distribute  and  multiply  pic- 
tures, but  they  lower  the  standard  and  vulgarize  the  taste  ; they  induce 


Introduction . 


37 


mediocrity,  haste,  and  profit,  rather  than  high  and  permanent  rewards. 
That  “ Art  is  long  ” is  scarcely  proverbial  among  us  ; literature  and  the 
liberal  professions  struggle  with  a like  subservience  of  ends  to  means,  a 
popular  adaptation  destructive  of  satisfactory  progress  ; such  is  the  ten- 
dency of  that  devotion  to  the  immediate  which  a French  philosopher  deems 
a law  of  republican  life.  The  consequence  of  this  is,  that  enthusiasm  is 
baffled,  the  ideal  sacrificed,  and  only  an  evanescent  advantage  sought. 
Hence  genuine  artists,  like  Allston,  prefer  solitude  and  loyalty  to  their 
convictions,  to  fellowship  and  public  organizations  ; they  become  ecleCtic, 
study  a good  picture  wherever  they  can  find  it,  cultivate  the  most  gifted 
and  high-toned  men  and  women  they  can  meet,  observe  nature  assiduously, 
work  out  the  most  difficult  problems  of  their  art  unsustained  by  sympathy, 
and  keep  themselves  from  contaCt  with  associations  which  fail  to  elevate, 
cheer,  or  inspire  a career  thus  forced  into  singularity. 

As  we  wander  through  the  Vatican,  the  Louvre,  Hampton  Court,  or  the 
Pitti  Palace,  it  is  not  merely  the  trophies  of  a few  great  artists’  skill  we 
behold — but  the  direction  and  triumph  thereof  as  bred  from  the  evolutions 
of  history,  the  promptings  of  sympathy,  the  sentiment  of  religion,  the 
representative  ideas  of  government  and  society.  Art  in  the  concrete  is 
national  and  historical — the  offspring  of  many  influences,  allied  vitally  to 
the  convictions,  the  enterprise,  the  polity,  the  literature  of  its  nativity. 
The  grave  poetry  of  the  Teutonic  mind  breathes  from  Handel’s  oratorios  ; 
the  mystic  supernaturalism  of  German  philosophy  in  Beethoven’s  sym- 
phonies ; Gallic  valor  is  reflected  from  Vernet’s  canvas  ; in  the  foundries 
of  Munich,  the  Academy  of  Rome,  the  mosaics  and  bronzes  of  Pompeii, 
the  dim  frescoes  of  the  Pisan  Campo  Santo,  the  delicate  tracery  of  the 
Alhambra,  the  shapes  of  Etruscan  and  the  designs  on  Wedgwood  ware, 
the  cartoons  of  Raphael,  the  massive  and  muscular  figures  of  Michael 
Angelo,  the  relievos  of  Cellini — in  shaft,  architrave,  overture,  outline — 
whether  classic,  Roman,  Moorish,  Byzantine — in  every  form,  tone,  and 
hue  of  art  sufficiently  expressive  or  beautiful  to  have  survived  in  human 
admiration— from  a Sphinx  half  buried  in  Egyptian  sands,  to  the  contour 
of  an  infant’s  head  in  a Holy  Family — there  is  a significant  attestation,  not 
only  to  what  one  artist  executed,  but  to  what  many  men  and  women  be- 
lieved, desired,  regretted,  remembered,  hoped,  or  felt.  Accordingly  the 
relation  of  Art  to  a country,  a period,  and  a community,  is  no  fanciful  but 
an  absolute  element  of  its  history.  And  when  we  contrast  the  popular 
tendencies,  the  national  traits,  the  spirit  of  our  life,  institutions,  and  so- 
ciety, with  those  wherein  the  memorable  fruits  of  chisel  and  pencil  else- 
where have  arisen,  we  find  a diffusive  material,  a speculative  and  practical 
tone,  which  is  infinitely  more  auspicious  to  the  economy  than  to  the  ideal- 
ity of  art,  which  ignores  the  profound  interest,  the  universal  appreciation, 
the  national  pride,  the  religious  interest,  and  the  munificent  patronage, 
whereby  art  has  so  triumphed  and  prevailed.  So  many  other  voices  ap- 
peal, so  many  other  interests  divide,  so  much  nearer  to  modern  life  is  the 
pursuit  of  well-being  under  a political,  commercial,  and  mechanical  regime , 


38 


Art  in  America. 


that  this  once-hallowed  avenue,  through  which  the  soul  of  the  ages  uttered 
itself  and  found  universal  response,  has  become  narrower,  sequestered, 
dear  to  few,  reverenced  only  by  selebt  intelligences,  and  its  vast  and  beau- 
tiful possibilities  rather  a dream,  like  Tennyson’s  Palace  of  Art,  than  an 
abtual  conservation  of  faculty  and  love. 

There  are  two  essential  capabilities  which  seem  to  us  alone  to  warrant 
that  life-devotion  to  art,  as  a vocation,  into  which  so  many  clever  but  un- 
disciplined minds  so  confidently  rush  ; these  are  a deep  sense  of  the  beau- 
tiful, and  mechanical  skill — the  first  being  the  inspiration  and  the  second 
the  alphabet  or  language  of  Art.  It  is  for  want  of  one  of  these  attributes 
that  we  have  so  many  mediocre  artists,  than  which  there  is  no  position 
more  melancholy  to  the  eye  of  good  sense  and  intellectual  rebtitude.  The 
love  of  beauty  is  often  mistaken  for  the  ability  to  reproduce  it ; and  a cer- 
tain manual  aptitude  for  color  and  modelling  is  thought  by  the  inex- 
perienced to  justify  the  profession  of  painting  and  sculpture.  In  this 
country  especially,  where  there  are  so  few  standards  of  judgment  or  pre- 
scribed ordeals  in  Art,  a certain  facility  in  drawing,  a faculty  of  imitation 
rare  enough  to  excite  wonder,  is  hailed  as  prophetic  of  future  triumph — 
and  in  many  cases  results  in  disappointment.  On  the  other  hand,  a 
natural  love  of  Art  exhibits  itself  under  circumstances  quite  unfavorable  ; 
and  the  hasty  inference  is  that  a child  of  genius  is  born  ; yet  the  feeling 
may  bear  no  proportion  to  the  power,  and  taste  has  been  perhaps  recog- 
nized as  talent. 

The  habit  of  exaggerated  praise  and  newspaper  puffs — the  conceit  in- 
variably attendant  upon  the  exercise  of  a faculty  regarded  by  the  ignorant 
as  next  to  miraculous — the  want  of  means  to  form  a correbt  self-estimate — 
all  tend  to  foster  and  confirm  these  practical  errors.  We  deem  it,  there- 
fore, the  first  duty  of  a lover  of  Art,  in  this  country,  to  exercise  discrimi- 
nation ; no  man  with  the  soul  of  a true  artist  is  gratified  with  unmerited 
applause,  or  shrinks  from  a just  analysis  of  his  powers,  or  criticism  of  his 
works.  We  need  especially  more  definite  eulogiums,  more  measured  com- 
mendation— the  why  and  the  wherefore  of  excellence  and  defebt  to  be 
stated  ; not  the  fulsome  exaggeration  of  the  one,  nor  the  malicious  elabora- 
tion of  the  other.  Let  us  approach  a genuine  work  of  art  with  love,  but 
with  a love  that  gives  insight,  which  does  not  blindly  idolize,  but  intelli- 
gently appreciates. 

For  much  as  Art,  in  a broad  view,  is  indebted  to  propitious  external 
influences  ; where  these  are  unfavorable,  a stern  fidelity  to  one’s  sphere 
and  intuitions,  a brave  though  lonely  crusade  for  truth,  a patient,  vigilant 
study  and  unwearied  discipline  and  experiment,  constitute  the  most  secure 
and  honorable  means  of  success.  Thus,  indeed,  have  all  great  artists 
toiled  ; half  of  Raphael’s  short  life  was  initiatory,  and  bred  the  knowledge 
and  skill  which  subsequently  embodied  so  perfectly  the  sentiment  his  pic- 
tures conserve.  How  little  Wilkie  owed  to  teachers  ; how  persevering 
the  search  of  Turner  for  original  effebts  of  color;  how  must  Claude 
have  drunk  in  the  serene  light  of  sunset  ere  his  pencil  gave  it  expression ; 


Introduction. 


39 


not  a master  line  of  Leonardo  but  grew  slowly  out  of  mathematical  prac- 
tice ; not  even  an  effeCt  of  Rembrandt  but  resulted  from  a force  and  feel- 
ing merged  in  expression  through  intent  observation  and  endeavor.  There 
are  no  artists  whose  circumstances  and  environment  demand  more  of 
this  individuality  of  aim  and  concentration  of  labor  than  our  own.  And  it 
is  because  these  redeeming  qualities  are  so  often  wanting  that  after  an 
advent  of  eclat , so  many  cease  to  advance,  and  for  years  exhibit  a station- 
ary style  and  a poverty  of  ideas,  never  going  beyond  a certain  respectable 
grade  of  execution  or  rising  above  a stereotyped  tone  and  manner.  The 
vague  encomiums  of  a friendly  journal,  the  praise  of  a clique,  the  ready 
money  their  pictures  bring,  the  indifference  of  the  public  to  new  refine- 
ments, and  their  own  unaspiring  disposition,  thus  make  Art  to  them  a 
prison  rather  than  a world,  a sphere  wherein  the  limits  rather  than  the 
progress  of  their  minds  are  made  apparent.  Perhaps  some  of  these  dis- 
couraging faCts  as  to  the  aCtual  condition  of  art  among  us,  may  be  ascribed 
to  the  prevalent  subjects  delineated.  Few  of  these  appeal  to  the  national 
mind  or  average  sympathies  ; let  a bold  genius  scan  our  history,  note  our 
civilization,  examine  our  life,  and  he  will  discover  innumerable  themes 
characteristic  enough  to  excite  the  interest  of  the  people.  Our  colonial, 
pioneer,  and  Revolutionary  eras,  the  customs  and  local  peculiarities  of  the 
land,  are  prolific  subjects  for  pictorial  art ; let  them  be  seized  with  a native 
zest  and  true  insight,  and  new  life  will  be  imparted  to  the  limner  and  his 
achievements.  It  requires  no  argument  to  attraCt  the  eye  and  heart  to 
the  authentic  portraits  of  our  heroes  and  statesmen,  or  the  effective  illus- 
tration of  our  history,  or  delineation  of  our  memorable  scenery.  Not  a 
hundredth  part  of  the  subjects  at  annual  exhibitions  here  are  national  ; 
and  yet  we  have  some  native  peculiarities  in  the  events  of  our  civic  life, 
the  phases  of  nature,  and  the  forms  of  social  development — which  abound 
in  picturesque  effeCts,  or  that  romance  of  sentiment  that  hallows  an  art- 
memorial  to  a people’s  love.  The  modern  English  school  of  painters  have 
won  no  small  degree  of  their  renown  by  illustrating  the  domestic  and  liter- 
ary charms  of  their  country — her  waters  and  her  animals,  her  harvests  and 
her  homes — the  phases  of  life  and  character  familiar  and  endeared  to  her 
children;  and  the  love  of  glory — military  glory  in  particular,  which  is  the 
popular  instinct  in  France — is  reflected  by  the  master-pieces  of  her  paint- 
ers. It  is  impossible  to  estimate  how  far  the  selection  of  subjects  related 
to  the  experience,  or  precious  to  the  hearts  of  a nation,  has  made  Art 
loved  at  last  for  her  own  sake,  and  to  what  extent  the  reaction  of  this 
popular  interest  upon  the  artist’s  will  and  imagination,  has  nerved  him  to 
fresh  triumphs.  What  we  especially  need  is,  to  bring  Art  within  the  scope 
of  popular  associations  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  to  have  it  con- 
secrated by  the  highest  individuality  of  purpose,  truth  to  nature,  human 
sentiment,  and  patient  self-devotion. 


AMERICAN  ARTIST  LIFE. 


EARLY  PORTRAIT  PAINTERS. 

Watson. — Sinybert. — Pine , and  others. — Bembridge. — Feke.  — Pratt. — 
Wright. — Charles  Wilson  Peale. — Dunlap. — Fulton. — Sargent. — 
Jarvis. — Frazer. — Frothingham. — Rembrandt  Peale. — Harding.  — 
Newton. — Neagle. — Fisher. — A mes. — Jouet. — W aldo. — A lexander , 
and  others. — Ingham. 

E earliest  professional  impulse  given  to  pictorial  Art  in 
America  was  derived  from  two  Scotchmen — one  of  whom 
is  now  only  remembered  by  name,  his  works  being  tradi- 
tional; the  other  is  enrolled  in  Walpole’s  anecdotes,  and 
endeared  by  several  authentic  portraits  belonging  to  old 
American  families.  Of  the  former,  John  Watson,  we  chiefly  know  that  he 
established  himself  as  a portrait-painter  at  Perth  Amboy,  N.  J.,  in  1715, 
and  acquired  a handsome  competence  by  his  labors.  The  latter,  John 
Smybert,  after  an  apprenticeship  to  a coach-painter,  and  a studious  visit 
of  three  years  to  Italy,  where  he  became  an  accomplished  copyist  of  the 
old  masters,  won  the  regard  of  the  benign  and  ingenious  Berkeley,  who 
selected  him  as  a companion  in  his  humane  mission  to  America. 

According  to  Horace  Walpole,  John  Smybert  was  born  in  Edinburgh, 
about  1684,  and  served  his  time  as  a common  house-painter,  went  to  Lon- 
don and  Italy,  and,  after  the  failure  of  Berkeley’s  beneficent  scheme  and 
his  return  to  England,  “settled  in  Boston,  in  New  England,  where  he  suc- 
ceeded to  his  wish,  and  married  a woman  of  considerable  fortune,  whom 
he  left  a widow,  with  two  children,  in  1751.”  “Smybert,”  says  the  same 
authority.  “ was  a silent  and  modest  man,  who  abhorred  fi7iesse  in  his  pro- 
fession, and  was  enchanted  with  a plan  which  he  thought  promised  tran- 
quillity and  an  honest  subsistence  in  a healthy  and  elysian  climate;  and, 
in  spite  of  remonstrances,  engaged  with  the  Dean,  whose  zeal  had  ranged 
the  favor  of  the  court  on  his  side.  The  king’s  death  dispelled  the  vision  ; 
but  one  may  conceive  how  a man  devoted  to  his  Art  must  have  been  ani- 
mated when  the  Dean’s  enthusiasm  and  eloquence  painted  to  his  imagina- 
tion a new  theatre  of  prospedts,  rich,  warm,  and  glowing  with  scenery 


42 


American  Artist  Life . 


which  no  pencil  had  yet  made  common.”  * To  this  brief  outline  of  Smy- 
bert’s  career  may  be  added  the  statement  of  Mr.  Verplanck,  that,  although 
“he  was  not  an  artist  of  the  first  rank,  the  Arts  being  then  at  a very  low 
ebb,  yet  the  best  portraits  we  have  of  the  eminent  divines  of  New  England 
and  New  York,  who  lived  between  1725  and  1751,  are  from  his  pencil.” 
Several  are  in  the  collections  of  New  England  colleges  ; at  Harvard  Uni- 
versity, a fine  copy  of  Vandyke’s  Cardinal  Bentivoglio,  and  a portrait  of 
John  Lovell.  Two  of  his  portraits,  which  are  in  excellent  preservation 
and  fair  examples  of  his  style,  are  the  likenesses  of  John  Channing  and 
his  wife,  the  grandparents  of  Dr.  W.  E.  Channing,  and  in  the  possession 
of  his  family.  Another  of  Smybert’s  reputed  portraits  is  in  the  possession 
of  Hon.  R.  C.  Winthrop,  and  represents  one  of  the  Bowdoin  family.  At 
Worcester,  Mass.,  a portrait  of  Mrs.  Martha,  wife  of  Norton  Gurney,  is 
attributed  to  Smybert ; and  those  of  Cornelius  Waldo  and  his  wife,  Faith, 
dated  1750,  and  of  Daniel  Waldo  and  his  wife,  Rebecca,  are  certainly  from 
his  pencil.  A portrait  of  Bishop  Berkeley,  said  to  have  been  painted 
during  the  latter’s  voyage  to  America,  one  of  Rev.  Joshua  Gee  and  his 
wife,  and  a copy  of  an  original  likeness  of  Governor  John  Endicott 
from  Smybert’s  pencil,  are  in  the  collection  of  the  Massachusetts  His- 
torical Society.  A portrait  of  Daniel  Oliver,  and  one  of  his  wife,  and 
another  of  Madam  Oliver,  nee  Belcher,  with  a group  of  the  three  sons  of 
the  former,  dated  1730;  also  portraits  of  the  Hon.  Benjamin  Lynde,  chief 
justice  of  Massachusetts,  of  Mrs.  Lynde,  nee  Brown,  and  of  Hon.  B. 
Lynde,  Jr.,  likewise  a chief  justice  of  the  Colony,  and  of  his  wife,  all  fine 
illustrations  of  Smybert’s  pencil,  are  in  the  possession  of  Fitch  E.  Oliver, 
Esq.,  of  Boston  ; who  has,  besides,  four  other  ancestral  portraits  of  anterior 
date,  probably  executed  in  England.  There  are  numerous  portraits  in 
various  parts  of  the  country  attributed  to  Smybert,  but  which  it  is  impos- 
sible certainly  to  identify  as  his,  although  often  the  date  of  their  execution 
and  the  style  justify  the  conjecture. 

He  seems  to  have  sympathized  with  the  good  Dean  in  his  love  of 
knowledge  ; an  interesting  visit  they  made  to  the  Narragansett  Indians  is, 
perhaps,  the  first  ethnological  anecdote  in  our  history.  But  the  most 
pleasing  and  precious  memorial  of  their  sojourn,  as  well  as  the  best  speci- 
men of  the  artist’s  talent,  is  the  picture  of  Dean  Berkeley  and  his 
family,  the  artist  himself  being  introduced,  now  in  the  Gallery  at  New 
Haven.  It  was  painted  for  a gentleman  of  Boston,  of  whom  it  was  pur- 
chased in  1808,  by  Isaac  Lothrop,  Esq.,  and  presented  to  Yale  College. 
“It  is  nine  feet  long  and  six  wide,  and  represents  Bishop  Berkeley  as 
standing  at  one  end  of  a table,  which  is  surrounded  by  his  family.  He 
appears  to  be  in  deep  thought,  his  eyes  slightly  raised,  one  hand  resting 
on  a folio  volume — his  favorite  author,  Plato — and  is  dictating  to  his 
amanuensis  part  of  the  ‘ Minute  Philosopher,’  which  is  said  to  have  been 

* Anecdotes  of  Painting  : He  is  said  to  have  lived  on  terms  of  friendship  with  Allan  Ramsay, 
the  author  of  the  “ Gentle  Shepherd,”  with  whom  he  corresponded  after  his  settlement  in  America. 
His  name  is  written  Swibert,  Smibert , and  Smybert — the  last  is  the  way  he  wrote  it. 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


43 


commenced  during  his  residence  at  Newport.  The  figure  of  the  amanuen- 
sis, which  is  an  uncommonly  fine  one,  represents  James  Dalton  ; Miss 
Handcock,  and  Mrs.  Berkeley,  with  an  infant  in  her  arms,  are  seated  on 
one  side  of  the  table,  while  Mr.  James,  and  a gentleman  of  Newport  named 
John  Moffatt,  stand  behind  the  ladies.  The  painter  has  placed  himself  in 
the  rear,  standing  by  a pillar,  with  a scroll  in  his  hand.” 

A letter  preserved  in  the  Gentleman’s  Magazine  indicates  the  continued 
friendship  of  the  painter  and  the  prelate  after  the  latter  returned  to  Great 
Britain  to  become  Bishop  of  Cloyne,  wherein  he  urges  his  old  companion 
to  rejoin  him  in  Ireland  ; but  Smybert  preferred  to  follow  his  vocation  in 
America,  and  we  find  him  prosperously  established  in  Boston  in  the  year 
1728.  The  earliest  and  best  portraits  executed  in  America  before  the 
Revolution,  of  which*that  of  Jonathan  Edwards  is  one  of  the  most  valua- 
ble, were  those  of  Smybert.  They  were  the  exemplars  of  our  pioneer 
limners.  Copley,  Trumbull,  and  Allston,  caught  their  first  ideas  of  color 
and  drawing  from  Smybert’s  copy  of  Vandyke  ; and  although  Allston  re- 
marks, “ When  I saw  the  original  I had  to  change  my  notions  of  per- 
fection,”— he  adds,  “ I am  grateful  to  Smybert  for  the  instruction  he,  or 
rather  his  work,  gave  me.”  There  are  several  interesting  portraits  by 
unknown  artists  executed  at  a very  early  date  ; among  them  one  of  Dr. 
John  Clark,  dated  1765,  and  one  of  Peter  Faneuil,  and  several  old  New 
England  divines, — in  the  collection  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society, 
of  conjectural  origin.  Others  may  be  seen  at  Harvard  University,  at 
Newport,  R.  I.,  at  the  South,  and  in  the  Middle  States  ; likenesses  by  un- 
known artists  of  Governor  Endicott,  the  four  Mathers,  Higginson  the 
younger,  and  others,  are  in  the  Antiquarian  Hall  at  Worcester,  Mass.  Not 
a few  portraits  by  celebrated  English  and  continental  painters  (the  best  of 
these  and  the  rarest  are  by  Holbein,  Kneller,  Lely,  Reynolds,  Opie,  Rae- 
burn, Rembrandt,  and  Gainsborough)  were  brought  to  this  country  by  the 
colonial  families,  for  whom  they  had  an  ancestral  value  and  interest,  and 
are  still  possessed  and  prized  by  their  descendants.  In  the  Winthrop 
family,  for  instance,  there  is  a likeness  of  a distant  progenitor,  by  Holbein  ; 
Mrs.  Erving,  widow  of  the  late  Col.  John  Erving,  and  a resident  of  New 
York,  has  a fine  Kneller,  Copley,  etc.;  the  portrait  of  Lord  Dartmouth,  in 
the  college  that  bears  his  name,  is  an  endeared  specimen  of  early  English 
Art;  and  Leverett  Saltonstall,  of  Newton,  Mass.,  has  a portrait  by  Rem- 
brandt of  Mr.  Richard  Saltonstall,  who  came  to  New  England  in  the  Lady 
Arabella,  in  1630,  but  leaving  his  sons,  returned  with  his  daughters  to  Eng- 
land, and  then  went  to  Amsterdam,  where  this  picture  was  painted  in  1644. 

Col.  Byrd,  of  Westover,  Va.,  was  a most  accomplished  man,  and  his 
learning  and  talents,  as  well  as  his  wealth,  procured  him  a place  in  the 
highest  society,  and  the  intimacy  of  some  of  the  most  distinguished  men 
of  his  time.  Several  interesting  portraits  graced  his  hospitable  mansion, 
and  are  now  in  the  possession  of  his  descendants  and  others. 

There  is  a likeness  of  Sir  Wilfred  Lawson,  by  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller. 
One  of  a progenitor  of  the  Byrd  family,  by  Van  Dyke  ; it  represents  a 


44 


American  Artist  Life. 


lovely  boy  of  twelve  years.  He  had  been  stolen  by  gipsies,  and  is  in  the 
costume  he  wore  when  his  parents  discovered  him  : an  old  cloak  thrown 
over  the  shoulders,  with  the  inimitable  grace  for  which  Van  Dyke  was  re- 
markable ; the  beautiful  face  sad  and  tearful ; the  child  followed  by  a dog. 
It  all  makes  a lovely  picture.  There  is  a portrait  of  Gen.  Monk,  Duke  of 
Albemarle.  There  are  also  portraits  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  (Jeannie 
Deans’  friend) ; Lord  Orrery,  son  of  the  Duke  of  Ormond  ; Sir  Charles 
Wager,  an  English  admiral ; Miss  Blount,  celebrated  by  Pope  ; Mary, 
Duchess  of  Montague,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  wife 
of  John,  fourth  Duke  of  Montague  (it  is  said  the  duplicate  of  this  portrait 
is  at  Windsor  Castle) ; Governor  Daniel  Parke,  with  a miniature  of  Queen 
Anne,  set  round  with  diamonds,  given  him  by  the  Queen  when  he  brought 
her  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Blenheim  ; he  was  aide-de-camp  to  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough.  There  are  many  family  portraits  : Mrs.  Lucy  Parke  Byrd  and 
her  beautiful  daughter,  Evelyn  Byrd  ; the  second  Col.  Byrd  and  his  wife, 
etc.,  etc.  An  amusing  anecdote  is  handed  down  of  an  old  gentleman  who 
left  a splendid  diamond  ring  to  Col.  Byrd,  provided  his  own  picture,  with 
his  hat  on,  might  hang  by  the  side  of  dukes  and  earls.  This  picture  is  at 
Lower  Brandon,  and  the  ring  is  in  possession  of  a lady  of  the  family.  * 
Portrait-painting  received  an  impulse  in  the  colonies,  immediately  sub- 
secpient  to  the  Revolution,  from  the  visits  and  pictures  of  foreign  adepts 
in  the  profession.  Some  of  the  latter  are  occasionally  encountered  in  old 
family  mansions  or  public  institutions,  and  must  have  served  as  valuable 
precedents  in  the  limited  Art-sphere  of  those  early  times.  Wollaston 
executed  several  portraits  in  Philadelphia  in  1758,  and  in  Maryland  the 
following  year  ; his  portrait  of  Mrs.  Washington  was  engraved  for  Sparks’ 
Biography,  and  is  an  elaborate  and  clever  work  ; and  there  was  an  excel- 
lent portrait  by  him  of  John  Randolph’s  grandmother,  at  Petersburg,  Va. 
Judge  Hopkinson  eulogized  this  artist  in  verse,  f In  1760  we  find  the 
name  of  Taylor,  and  in  1763  Hesselius,  an  English  painter,  was  established 
at  Annapolis,  Md.  He  was  of  the  school  of  Kneller,  Peale’s  earliest 
teacher  ; and  most  of  the  portraits  in  the  older  dwellings  of  Maryland  are 
from  his  pencil.  There  are  many  portraits  of  Philadelphians  by  this 
artist,  several  of  them  of  ancestral  interest.  Two  in  the  Walton  family 
are  dated  1752.  Hesselius  was  an  industrious  and  faithful  painter,  but 
respectable  rather  than  superior  in  Art.  Cosmo  Alexander  passed  a year 
in  America;  he  arrived  in  1770  and  was  Stuart’s  first  instructor ; a por- 
trait of  Hon.  John  Ross  by  the  artist,  bearing  date  more  than  a century 
ago,  is  a favorable  specimen  of  his  style.  Mr.  Ross  was  the  rival,  at  the 
Philadelphia  bar,  of  Andrew  Hamilton,  who  defended  Zenger  in  the  famous 
trial  in  New  York,  and  brother-in-law  of  George  Read,  one  of  the  signers 
of  the  Declaration.  He  is  represented  as  sitting  in  his  library  with  a table 
near  him.  This  portrait  belongs  to  J.  Meredith  Read,  Esq.,  of  Albany, 


*From  a letter  of  Miss  Lucy  Harrison,  great  granddaughter  of  the  late  Col.  Byrd,  of  Westover. 
t American  Magazine,  September,  1758. 


Early  Portrait  Painters.  45 

the  accomplished  author  of  the  Life  of  Hudson,  who  also  has  two  other 
portraits  by  Cosmo  Alexander  and  several  by  Wollaston. 

Ramage  was  one  of  the  first  miniature  painters  ; he  was  an  Irish  gentle- 
man, and  executed  many  small  likenesses  in  Boston  in  1771.  James  Peale 
appears  to  have  been  the  earliest  native  artist  in  this  sphere ; Durand  made 
many  showy,  but  not  elegant  portraits  in  Virginia,  in  1772  ; and  a mediocre 
painter  named  Matthew  Brown  was  full  of  business  from  1775  to  1785. 
Duche,  Field,  andTrenchard  are  other  artistic  names  on  the  primitive  roll. 
Thomas  Coram  was  an  active  limner  in  Charleston,  S.  C.,  in  1780.  Wist- 
anley,  chiefly  remembered  for  the  salient  anecdote  respecting  his  copy  of 
Stuart’s  Washington,  was  at  work  in  the  colonies  in  1769.  Of  native 
painters  of  that  period,  Flenry  Bembridge,  of  Philadelphia,  is  represented 
by  many  portraits  of  a singularly  formal  aspect ; he  had  studied  under 
Mengs  and  Battoni,  was  liberally  educated,  and  highly  esteemed  as  a gen- 
tleman. There  were  many  of  his  portraits  in  Charleston,  S.  C.  Blackburn 
was  Smybert’s  immediate  successor,  or  cotemporary,  and,  during  a brief 
visit,  executed  several  notable  portraits  in  Boston,  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  and 
other  New  England  towns.  There  is  one  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Erving, 
of  New  York.  Good  specimens  of  Blackburn’s  style  are  afforded  by  the 
portraits  in  the  possession  of  Judge  Cutts,  of  Brattleboro’,  Vt., — likenesses 
of  his  wife’s  grandparents.  There  is  something  very  piquant  and  charming 
in  the  lady’s  head,  and  her  hands  are  beautiful ; while  her  husband’s  fine, 
ruddy  countenance,  lapelled  coat,  wig,  and  ruffles,  are  characteristic  of  his 
times.  There  are  also  two  fine  portraits  by  Blackburn  in  the  possession 
of  Dr.  Nicol  Dering,  of  Utica,  N.  Y.,  one  of  Miss  Mary  Sylvester,  after- 
wards Mrs.  Thomas  Dering,  of  Boston,  Mass.,  painted  in  1754  at  New- 
port, R.  I.  ; and  one  of  Miss  Margaret  Sylvester,  afterwards  Mrs.  David 
Cheesbrough,  of  Newport,  R.  I.,  of  the  same  date.  These  portraits  are 
large,  three-quarter  size,  and  are  much  admired  for  their  artistic  merit. 
They  were  exhibited  several  years  since  at  the  National  Academy,  N.  Y., 
at  the  request  of  Colonel  Trumbull.  Mrs.  Nichols,  a granddaughter  of 
Dr.  Holyoke,  of  Salem,  has  a portrait  of  Jonathan  Simpson,  a merchant 
of  Boston,  by  Blackburn,  and  Hon.  R.  C.  Winthrop  one  of  a lady  belong- 
ing to  the  Temple  family. 

Another  Englishman,  named  Williams,  was  busy  about  the  same  time 
and  in  the  same  way  in  Philadelphia.  West  is  said  to  have  derived  con- 
siderable benefit  from  the  books  and  conversation  of  this  painter.  Ed- 
ward Savage  was  engaged  on  portraits  in  New  York  in  1789:  one  of 
Washington  from  his  pencil  is  at  Harvard  University.  Green  and  Theus 
were  also  somewhat  known  about  this  period  and  earlier,  and  occasionally 
specimens  of  their  works  are  still  to  be  seen.  A portrait -painter  called  by 
the  indefinite  name  of  Smith  is  remembered  as  probably  the  first  Ameri- 
can who  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  studying  in  Italy,  and  is  also  remarka- 
ble for  his  longevity.  More  than  one  portrait  of  Washington  and  a few  of 
his  cotemporaries  bear  the  name  of  Polke,  who  passed  a year  or  two  in 
America.  One  of  the  former  was  found  at  Leesburg  on  the  estate  of  Ar- 


46  American  Artist  Life. 

thur  Lee,  and  sent  to  Washington  city  during  the  war,  but  returned  by  the 
government  at  its  close.  Some  of  the  portraits  have  characteristic  merits. 

“ A few  octogenarians  in  the  city  of  Brotherly  Love  used  to  speak,  not 
many  years  since,  of  a diminutive  family,  the  head  of  which  manifested 
the  sensitive  temperament,  if  not  the  highest  capabilities,  of  artistic  genius. 
This  was  Robert  Edge  Pine.  He  brought  to  America  the  earliest  cast  of 
the  Venus  de’  Medici,  which  was  privately  exhibited  to  the  seleCt  few — the 
manners  and  morals  of  the  Quaker  City  forbidding  its  exposure  to  the 
common  eye.  He  was  considered  a superior  colorist,  and  was  favorably 
introduced  into  society  in  Philadelphia  by  his  acknowledged  sympathy  for 
the  American  cause,  and  by  a grand  projedt  such  as  was  afterwards  par- 
tially realized  by  Trumbull— that  of  a series  of  historical  paintings  illus- 
trative of  the  American  Revolution,  to  embrace  original  portraits  of  the 
leaders,  both  civil  and  military,  in  that  achievement,  including  the  states- 
men who  were  chiefly  instrumental  in  framing  the  Constitution  and  organ- 
izing the  Government.  He  brought  a letter  of  introduction  to  the  father 
of  the  late  Judge  Hopkinson,  whose  portrait  he  executed,  and  its  vivid 
tints  and  correct  resemblance  still  attest  the  ability  of  the  painter.  He 
left  behind  him,  in  London,  creditable  portraits  of  George  II.,  Garrick, 
and  the  Duke  of  Northumberland.  In  the  intervals  of  his  business  as  a 
teacher  of  drawing  and  a votary  of  portraiture  in  general,  he  collected, 
from  time  to  time,  a large  number  of  1 distinguished  heads,’  although,  as 
in  the  case  of  Ceracchi,  the  epoch  and  the  country  were  unfavorable  to  his 
ambitious  projeCt ; of  these  portraits  the  heads  of  General  Gates,  Charles 
Carroll,  Baron  Steuben,  and  Washington  are  the  best  known  and  most 
highly  prized.  Pine  remained  three  weeks  at  Mount  Vernon,  and  his  por- 
trait bequeaths  some  features  with  great  accuracy  ; artists  find  in  it  certain 
merits  not  discoverable  in  those  of  a later  date  ; it  has  the  permanent 
interest  of  a representation  from  life  by  a painter  of  established  reputa- 
tion ; yet  its  tone  is  cold  and  its  effeCt  unimpressive  beside  the  more  bold 
and  glowing  pencil  of  Stuart.  It  has  repose  and  dignity.”*  It  is  in  the 
possession  of  the  Hopkinson  family  at  Philadelphia,  and  a fac  simile  of 
Washington’s  letter  ; it  was  painted  in  1785.  A large  copy,  or  more  pro- 
bably the  original,  was  purchased  in  Montreal,  in  1817,  by  the  late  Henry 
Brevoort,  and  is  now  in  the  possession  of  his  son,  Carson  Brevoort,  of 
Bedford,  L.  I. 

Sharpless,  Wertmiiller,  St.  Memim,  Martin,  Giillagher,  Robertson,  Bel- 
zoni,  Roberts,  Malcolm,  Earle,  and  other  artists  visited  America  immedi- 
ately after  her  Independence  was  established  ; and  several  of  them  are 
chiefly  memorable  for  their  delineations  of  Washington  and  our  early 
statesmen  and  soldiers.!  They  exerted  a progressive  influence  upon 
native  Art,  just  then  dawning  upon  us  with  the  freedom  and  peace  of  the 
new-born  Republic  ; previous  to  which  era  artists  were  inevitably  but  a 
casual  and  isolated  class.  “ Under  the  pressure  of  cares,  and  struggles, 

* Character  and  Portraits  of  Washington. 

t See  the  author’s  “ Character  and  Portraits  of  Washington.” 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


47 


and  urgent  anxieties,”  says  Dr.  Bethune,  “there  would  be  neither  time 
nor  desire  for  the  cultivation  of  these  elegant  pursuits,  which  are  the 
luxury  of  leisure,  the  decoration  of  wealth,  and  the  charms  of  refinement. 
The  Puritans  and  the  Presbyterians  together,  the  most  influential,  were 
not  favorable  to  the  fine  arts,  and  the  Quakers  abjured  them.  Men  living 
in  log  cabins,  and  busied  all  day  in  field,  workshop,  or  warehouse,  and 
liable  to  attacks  by  savage  enemies  at  any  moment,  were  indisposed  to  seek 
after  or  encourage  what  was  not  immediately  useful.  Their  hard-earned 
and  precarious  gains  would  not  justify  the  indulgence.  There  were  few, 
or  rather  no  specimens  of  artistic  skill  among  them  to  awaken  taste  or 
imitation.  It  is,  therefore,  little  to  be  wondered  at  if  they  did  not  show  an 
appreciation  of  Art  proportionate  to  their  advance  in  other  moral  respects, 
or  that  they  waited  until  they  had  secured  a substantial  prosperity  before 
they  ventured  to  gratify  themselves  with  the  beautiful.  The  brilliant  exam- 
ples of  West  and  Copley,  with  some  others  of  inferior  note,  showed  the 
presence  of  genius  ; but  those  artists  found  abroad  the  encouragement  and 
instruction  not  attainable  at  home,  thus  depriving  their  country  of  all  share 
in  their  fame,  except  the  credit  of  having  given  them  birth.”  * 

The  earliest  native  colonial  painter  who  had  any  proper  training  in  Art, 
appears  to  have  been  Robert  Feke.  The  only  work  of  his  in  the  posses- 
sion of  his  descendants  is  the  portrait  of  a little  girl  painted  on  panel. 
Dunlap  speaks  of  a likeness  of  a Mrs.  Welling  bearing  his  signature  and 
dated  1746.  During  that  year  he  painted  several  portraits  in  Philadelphia, 
considered  the  best  colonial  family  portraits  except  West’s.  A gentleman 
of  that  city,  of  highly  cultivated  taste,  whose  maternal  grandparents  were 
painted  by  Feke,  says  of  them,  that  the  “drawing  and  expression  are  good, 
and  the  coloring  still  fresh  and  natural ; they  are  of  life  size  and  the  full 
dress  of  the  time.”f  A portrait  of  Rev.  John  Callender,  which  belonged 
to  Colonel  Bull,  of  Newport,  R.  I.,  and  was  attributed  to  Smybert — a copy 
of  which,  by  Miss  Stuart,  is  in  the  Redwood  Library — is  believed  to  be 
from  the  pencil  of  Feke.  How,  in  those  primitive  days,  this  painter 
learned  to  draw  and  color  so  well  is  a matter  of  conjecture.  He  was  a 
descendant  of  Henry  Feake,  who  emigrated  to  Lynn,  Mass.,  in  1630,  and 
a branch  of  whose  family  settled  at  Oyster  Bay,  L.  I.,  whence,  it  is  said, 
the  future  artist  came  to  Rhode  Island.  The  religious  controversies  of 
the  day  seem  to  have  invaded  the  peace  of  the  household  ; the  Feakes,  as 
the  name  was  originally  written,  were  Quakers,  and  one  of  the  younger — 
tradition  says  the  artist — went  over  to  the  Baptists,  and  was  followed  to 
the  water’s  edge,  on  the  occasion  of  his  immersion,  by  his  outraged  sire 
with  threats  of  disinheritance.  This  anecdote  accords  with  the  spirit  of 
those  times,  whether  it  really  belongs  to  the  painter  or  to  one  of  his  kin- 
dred ; but  another  tradition  explains  his  equipment  for  his  vocation,  which 
could  scarcely  have  been  attained  at  that  period  in  the  colonies.  Robert 
Feke,  whether  from  disgust  at  the  persecution  he  suffered  for  differing 


* Home  Book  of  the  Picturesque. 


t G.  Francis  Fisher,  Esq. 


48 


American  Artist  Life. 


from  his  family  in  religious  belief,  or  to  indulge  the  adventurous  temper  so 
native  to  artistic  organizations,  left  home  and  was  absent  several  years  ; 
according  to  a writer  in  the  Historical  Magazine,  he  was  taken  prisoner 
and  carried  into  Spain,  managed  to  obtain  pencils  and  colors,  and  beguiled 
his  captivity  by  making  rude  paintings,  which  he  sold  upon  his  release, 
and,  with  the  proceeds  and  the  fruits  of  practice  and  observations  abroad, 
returned  home  and  began  his  career  as  a portrait  painter,  married,  and 
settled  at  Newport,  where,  among  others,  he  painted  the  beautiful  wife  of 
Governor  Wanton,  now  in  the  Redwood  Library.  He  made  professional 
visits  to  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  other  cities,  went  to  Bermuda  for 
his  health,  and  died  there  at  the  age  of  forty-four.  * 

There  was  a publican's  sign  in  Spruce-street,  Philadelphia,  a few  years 
since,  which  used  to  attradl  the  notice  of  amateur  pedestrians  on  account  of 
its  manifest  superiority  to  such  insignia  in  general.  It  consisted  of  a cock  in 
a barnyard,  and  was  executed  with  rare  truth  and  spirit.  Those  curious 
enough  to  inquire  of  the  local  antiquarians,  learned  that  it  was  the  work  of 
Matthew  Pratt,  who  acquired  of  Claypole,  a miscellaneous  and  now  forgot- 
ten painter,  the  rudiments  of  his  Art,  which  he  long  exercised  in  his  native 
city  in  any  manner  that  proved  lucrative — ranging  from  decorative  to  sign- 
painting ; but  at  last  concentrating  his  skill  and  time  upon  portraiture, 
wherein  he  acquired  a notable  success  ; the  memorable  evidence  whereof 
are  the  likenesses  he  made  of  the  prominent  members  of  the  Convention 
which  assembled  in  Philadelphia  in  1788 — a composition  which  originally 
figured  as  a sign  at  the  corner  of  Chestnut  and  Fourth  streets,  and  for 
weeks  was  the  nucleus  of  a gratified  crowd  who  readily  identified  the  por- 
traits. The  long-affianced  bride  of  Benjamin  West  was  a relative  of 
Matthew  Pratt’s  father,  and  the  young  painter  was  her  escort  to  England. 
Soon  after  their  arrival  in  London  he  u gave  her  away  ” at  the  wedding, 
which  took  place  at  St.  Martin’s  Church  in  the  Strand.  Pratt  passed  fouf* 
years  in  England,  studied  with  West,  executed  portraits  of  the  Duke  of 
Portland,  the  Duchess  of  Manchester,  and  Governor  Hamilton,  and  ex- 
hibited a Scripture  piece  and  “ The  London  School  of  Artists.”  Born  in 
1734,  he  returned  to  his  native  city  in  1768,  and  died  there  in  1805.  His 
portraits,  though  of  no  high  artistic  merit,  are  considered  as  exhibiting 
talent  and  truth,  and,  like  those  of  Trumbull  and  Copley,  are  often  the 
only  representations  extant  of  early  American  leaders  in  civil  and  social 
life.  A critic,  who  seems  well  acquainted  with  his  pictures,  describes 
them  as  “ broad  in  effedt  and  loaded  with  color.”  He  executed  between 
fifty  and  sixty  portraits  in  New  York  ; among  them  a full  length  of  Gover- 
nor Colden,  now  in  the  possession  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society, 
and  several  members  of  the  Walton  family.  The  vessel  in  which  Pratt 
embarked  for  Jamaica,  in  1757,  was  commanded  by  the  father  of  the  late 
Bishop  Hobart,  of  New  York  ; she  was  captured  by  a French  privateer. 

Upon  resuming  his  practice  of  Art  in  Philadelphia,  Pratt  was  intro- 


Historical  Magazine,  1859-60. 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


49 


duced  by  Thomas  Barton  to  the  best  local  society.  He  had  been  a school- 
mate of  Peale,  and  assisted  him  in  establishing  and  arranging  his  museum. 
It  is  rather  a curious  distinction  for  an  artist  who  aimed  at  the  higher 
branches  of  his  profession,  to  be  remembered  as  excelling  in  one  scarcely 
included  in  the  range  of  the  fine  arts,  however  calculated  to  educate  the 
masses.  Pratt’s  signs  enjoyed  a great  reputation,  and  still  have  a tradi- 
tional renown  ; two  especially,  a group  of  drovers  and  a hunting  scene,  are 
often  praised  by  his  cotemporaries.  “They  were,”  says  Neagle,  “by  far 
the  best  signs  I ever  saw.” 

There  resided,  in  colonial  days,  at  Bordentown,  New  Jersey,  Patience 
Wright,  who  used  to  model  in  wax  miniature  heads,  usually  in  relievo , 
a rare  accomplishment  at  the  time,  and  one  in  which  she  was  thought  to 
excel;  some  specimens  extant  indicate  considerable  imitative  tad.  It  is 
natural  that  with  such  a taste  and  talent  she  should  encourage  artistic  apti- 
tudes in  her  children.  She  taught  her  son  Joseph  what  she  knew,  his 
brother-in-law  added  his  instruction,  and  West  also  gave  him  the  benefit 
of  his  advice.  Wright  was  born  in  Bordentown  in  1756,  and  in  1772  the 
family  went  to  England,  where  the  young  artist  executed  a portrait  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  George  IV.  He  was  sent  to  Paris  and  placed 
under  the  care  of  Dr.  Franklin  to  pursue  his  studies.  Returning  to  Amer- 
ica he  narrowly  escaped  with  his  life  from  shipwreck.  Having  embarked 
at  Nantes,  the  vessel  was  cast  away  on  the  coast  of  Spain,  and  Wright 
reached  Boston  at  last  penniless.  In  the  autumn  of  1783  he  painted  at 
headquarters,  Princeton,  New  Jersey,  a three-quarter  length  portrait  of 
Washington,  having  previously  subjected  him  to  a coat  of  plaster  by  way 
of  obtaining  the  dimensions  and  proportions  of  his  head.  His  portrait  is 
remarkable  for  fidelity  to  details  of  feature,  form,  and  costume  ; and, 
although  inelegant  and  unflattering,  is  probably  authentic  to  a remarkable 
degree,  and  may  be  considered  a fair  specimen  of  the  unideal  but  con- 
scientious skill  of  this  early  American  artist.  It  is  now  in  the  possession 
of  Samuel  Powell,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia.* 

Employed  professionally,  before  the  peace  of  1783,  in  New  York  and 
Philadelphia,  Wright  was  appointed  by  Washington,  when  the  United 
States  Mint  was  established,  draughtsman  and  die-sinker  thereat,  and 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  first  coins  and  medals  executed  in 
this  country  were  his  handiwork.  Besides  the  portrait  he  painted  of 
Washington  soon*  after  his  return,  for  Mrs.  Willing,  now  in  the  possession 
of  the  Powell  family,  he  executed  another  for  the  Count  de  Solms,  and  not 
satisfied  with  either,  or  rather  desirous  of  possessing  one  for  himself,  he 
solicited  another  sitting  of  the  first  President,  who  was  too  much  occupied 
with  public  duties  and  too  weary  of  the.  irksome  process  to  consent ; the 
artist,  however,  was  not  to  be  baffled — he  attended  St.  Paul’s  Church  in 
New  York  and  sketched  a miniature  profile  from  life,  as  his  unconscious 
subjedt  sat  in  his  pew.  The  terrible  pestilence  which  ravaged  Philadel- 

* For  the  details  respecting  this  portrait,  see  the  author’s  “ Character  and  Portraits  of  Washing- 
ton.” Wright’s  portrait  of  John  Jay  is  in  the  collection  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society. 

4 


50 


American  Artist  Life . 


phia  in  1793,  of  whose  devastations  Brockden  Brown  left  so  graphic  a 
picture,  numbered  among  its  eminent  victims  this  upright  and  ingenious 
artist. 

The  American  portrait  painter  of  this  era  best  known  at  the  time  and 
best  remembered  now,  was  Charles  Wilson  Peale,  who  was  born  in  Ches- 
terton, Maryland,  in  1741.  As  the  first  painter  of  Washington,  his  name 
is  identified  with  the  early  career  of  our  peerless  chief.  The  museum  he 
established  in  Philadelphia,  until  recently,  kept  before  the  minds  of  his 
countrymen  the  genial  enterprise  and  the  national  sympathies  for  which 
he  was  remarkable  ; while  the  talent  and  worth  of  his  son  Rembrandt,  who 
died  within  a short  period  at  an  advanced  age,  tended  to  prolong  the  artis- 
tic and  social  consideration  so  honorably  associated  with  the  name.  The 
life  of  this  pioneer  in  the  virgin  field  of  Art  in  America,  was  marked  with 
characteristic  vicissitudes  and  experiments.  Endowed  with  remarkable 
mechanical  skill,  which  he  adapted  readily  to  the  exigencies  of  a new  coun- 
try, we  find  him  a clever  workman  successively  in  leather,  wood,  and  met- 
als ; he  could  make  a harness,  a clock,  or  a silver  moulding;  he  knew  how 
to  stuff  birds  for  the  ornithologist,  to  extract  and  repair  teeth,  and  to 
deliver  a popular  lecture  ; nor,  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  did  he  fail  to 
exercise  with  credit  and  assiduity  each  and  all  of  these  widely  different 
vocations.  But  the  proclivities  of  Wilson  Peale  were  undoubtedly  for  Art, 
and  eventually  painting  became  his  chief  and  his  favorite  occupation.  The 
idea  became  a pradlical  intuition  with  him  when  quite  young.  He  saw  the 
works  of  Fraser  at  Norfolk;  on  his  return  home  he  succeeded  in  making 
a portrait  which  astonished  his  neighbors  and  decided  him  to  adopt  the 
artistic  profession.  He  sought  instruction  in  Philadelphia,  and  derived 
much  benefit  from  the  teachings  of  a German  pupil  of  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller, 
and  subsequently  from  those  of  Copley  at  Boston.  In  1770  he  went  to 
London  to  study  with  West,  who  continued  to  befriend  him  long  after  his 
funds  were  exhausted.  After  a residence  of  four  years  in  England,  Peale 
returned  home  and  settled,  first  at  Annapolis,  Maryland,  and  subsequently 
at  Philadelphia.  He  commanded  a corps  of  volunteers  during  the  Revo- 
lutionary War,  and  took  part  in  two  battles — those  of  Trenton  and  Ger- 
mantown. He  did  not  forget  the  artist  in  the  soldier,  but  sedulously 
improved  his  leisure  in  camp  by  sketching  from  nature,  and  his  rare 
opportunities  to  study  “ the  human  face  divine”  by  transferring  to  his 
portfolio  many  heads  which  afterwards  he  elaborated  for  his  gallery  of 
national  portraits.  His  portrait  of  Washington  as  a Virginia  Colonel  is 
well  known  through  multiplied  copies  and  engravings,  and  is  highly  valued 
as  the  first  authentic  likeness. 

“ The  earliest  portraits  of  Washington  are  more  interesting,  perhaps,  as 
memorials  than  as  works  of  Art ; and  we  can  easily  imagine  that  associa- 
tions endeared  them  to  his  old  comrades.  The  dress — blue  coat,  scarlet 
facings,  and  underclothes — of  the  first  portrait  by  Peale,  and  the  youthful 
face,  make  it  suggestive  of  the  early  experience  of  the  future  commander, 
when,  exchanging  the  surveyor’s  implements  for  the  colonel’s  commis- 


Eaidy  Portrait  Painters. 


51 


sion,  he  bivouacked  in  the  wilderness  of  Ohio,  the  leader  of  a motley  band 
of  hunters,  provincials,  and  savages,  to  confront  wily  Frenchmen,  cut  for- 
est roads,  and  encounter  all  the  perils  of  Indian  ambush,  -inclement  skies, 
undisciplined  followers,  famine,  and  woodland  skirmish.  It  recalls  his 
calm  authority  and  providential  escape  amid  the  dismay  of  Braddock’s 
defeat,  and  his  pleasant  sensation  at  the  first  whistling  of  bullets  in  the 
weary  march  to  Fort  Necessity.  To  Charles  Wilson  Peale  we  owe  this 
precious  relic  of  the  chieftain’s  youth.  This  portrait  was  executed  in  1772, 
and  was,  for  many  years  before  the  war  for  the  Union,  at  Arlington  House. 
The  resolution  of  Congress  by  which  the  subsequent  portrait  by  this  artist 
was  ordered  was  passed  before  the  occupation  of  Philadelphia.  Its  pro- 
gress marks  the  vicissitudes  of  the  Revolutionary  struggle  ; commenced 
in  the  gloomy  winter  and  half-famished  encampment  at  Valley  Forge,  in 
1778,  the  battles  of  Trenton,  Princeton,  and  Monmouth  intervened  before 
its  completion.  At  the  last  place,  Washington  suggested  that  the  view 
from  the  window  of  the  farm-house  opposite  to  which  he  was  sitting  would 
form  a desirable  background.  Peale  adopted  the  idea,  and  represented 
Monmouth  Court-House  and  a party  of  Hessians  under  guard  marching 
out  of  it.*  The  picture  was  finished  at  Princeton,  and  Nassau  Hall  is  a 
prominent  objedt  in  the  background  ; but  Congress  adjourned  without 
making  an  appropriation,  and  it  remained  in  the  artist’s  hands.  Lafayette 
desired  a copy  for  the  King  of  France,  and  Peale  executed  one  in  1779 
which  was  sent  to  Paris  ; but  the  misfortunes  of  the  royal  family  occa- 
sioned its  sale,  and  it  became  the  property  of  Count  de  Menou,  who  brought 
it  again  to  this  country  and  presented  it  to  the  National  Institute,  where  it 
is  now  preserved.  Chapman  made  two  copies  at  a thousand  dollars  each  ; 
and  Dr.  Craik,  one  of  the  earliest  and  warmest  personal  friends  of  Wash- 
ington, their  commissions  as  officers  in  the  French  War  having  been 
signed  on  the  same  day  (1754),  declared  it  a most  faithful  likeness  of  him 
as  he  appeared  in  the  prime  of  life,  f 

There  is  a tradition  in  the  Peale  family,  honorably  represented  through 
several  generations,  by  public  spirit  and  artistic  gifts,  that  intelligence  of 
one  of  the  most  important  triumphs  of  the  American  arms  was  received 
by  Washington  in  a despatch  he  opened  while  sitting  to  Wilson  Peale  for 
a miniature  intended  for  his  wife,  who  was  also  present.  The  scene  occur- 
red one  fine  summer  afternoon  ; and  there  is  something  attractive  to  the 
fancy  in  the  association  of  this  group  quietly  occupied  in  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  arts  of  peace,  and  in  a commemorative  adt  destined  to 

* MS.  Letter  of  Titian  R.  Peale  to  George  Livermore,  Esq. 

t Philadelphia,  Feb.  4. — His  Excellency  General  Washington  set  off  from  this  city  to  join 
the  army  in  New  Jersey.  During  the  course  of  his  short  stay,  the  only  relief  he  has  enjoyed  from 
service  since  he  first  entered  it,  he  has  been  honored  with  every  mark  of  esteem.  The  Council  of 
this  State,  being  desirous  of  having  his  picture  in  full  length,  requested  his  sitting  for  that  purpose, 
which  he  politely  complied  with,  and  a striking  likeness  was  taken  by  Mr.  Peale,  of  this  city.  The 
portrait  is  to  be  placed  in  the  council  chamber.  Don  Juan  Marrailes,  the  Minister  of  France,  has 
ordered  five  copies,  four  of  which,  we  hear,  are  to  be  sent  abroad.  Penn.  Packet , Feb.  n,  1779. 
He  painted  one  in  1776  for  John  Hancock,  and  besides  that  for  New  Jersey,  others  for  Pennsylva- 
nia and  Maryland. 


52 


American  Artist  Life. 

gratify  conjugal  love  and  a nation’s  pride,  with  the  progress  of  a war  and 
the  announcement  of  a victory  fraught  with  that  nation’s  liberty  and  that 
leader’s  eternal  renown. 

The  characteristic  traits  of  Peale’s  portraits  of  Washington  long  at  the 
National  Institute  and  Arlington  House,  and  the  era  of  our  history  and  of 
Washington’s  life  they  embalm,  make  them  doubly  valuable  in  a series  of 
piCtorial  illustrations,  each  of  which,  independent  of  the  degree  of  pro- 
fessional skill  exhibited,  is  essential  to  our  Washingtonian  gallery.  Before 
Trumbull  and  Stuart  had  caught  from  the  living  man  his  aspeCt  in  maturity 
and  age- — the  form  knit  to  athletic  proportions  by  self-denial  and  activity, 
and  clad  in  the  garb  of  rank  and  war,  and  the  countenance  open  with 
truth  and  grave  with  thought,  yet  rounded  with  the  contour  and  ruddy 
with  the  glow  of  early  manhood — was  thus  genially  delineated  by  the  hand 
of  a comrade,  and  in  the  infancy  of  native  art.  Of  the  fourteen  portraits 
by  Peale,  that  exhibiting  Washington  as  a Virginia  colonel  in  the  colonial 
force  of  Great  Britain,  is  the  only  entire  portrait  before  the  Revolution 
extant.f  One  was  painted  for  the  college  of  New  Jersey,  at  Princeton,  in 
1780,  to  occupy  a frame  in  which  a portrait  of  George  the  Third  had  been 
destroyed  by  a cannon  ball  during  the  battle  at  that  place  on  the  3d  of 
January,  1777.  It  still  remains  in  the  possession  of  the  College,  and  was 
saved  fortunately  from  the  fire  which  a few  years  ago  consumed  Nassau 
Hall.  Peale’s  last  portrait  of  Washington,  executed  in  1783,  he  retained 
until  his  death,  and  two  years  since,  it  was  sold  with  the  rest  of  the  col- 
lection known  as  the  “ Peale  Gallery,”  at  Philadelphia.  There  is  a pencil 
sketch  also  by  this  artist,  framed  with  the  wood  of  the  tree  in  front  of 
the  famous  Chew  house,  around  which  centred  the  battle  of  German- 
town. f 

Peale  was  a man  of  liberal  sympathies  and  public  spirit ; he  not  only 
was  an  efficient  military  officer,  but  served  his  State  worthily  in  the  legisla- 
ture. He  had  the  prescience  rightly  to  estimate  the  historical  value  of 
native  portraiture  in  the  crisis  of  his  country’s  destiny,  and  carefully 
gathered  the  materials  which  have  since  proved  so  valuable  in  illustrating 
the  incidents  and  characters  of  our  brief  annals.  Although  widely  dis- 
persed, the  best  portraits  of  Peale  are  cherished  memorials,  and  some  of 
them  are  unique.  The  sight  of  some  mammoth  bones  suggested  to  Peale 
the  idea  of  combining  scientific  with  artistic  attractions,  and  for  years  his 
thoughts  and  time  were  occupied  in  forming  the  collection  which  so  admi- 
rably served  its  purpose  in  the  early  days  of  the  Republic,  and  gave  that 
impulse  to  natural  history  and  the  fine  arts  which  has  since  developed  in 
Philadelphia  into  such  noble  and  prosperous  institutions. 

For  a considerable  time  antecedent  and  subsequent  to  the  Revolutionary 
War,  Peale  was  almost  the  only  portrait  painter  in  America  known  to 
fame  ; Smybert  and  Copley  had  disappeared,  and  Trumbull  and  Stuart  had 

* A miniature,  said  to  have  been  painted  in  1757,  at  the  age  of  25,  has  been  engraved  for  Irving’s 
Washington. 

t Character  and  Portraits  of  Washington. 


Early  Portrait  Painters . 


53 


not  yet  become  familiar  names  ; here  and  there  an  isolated  or  itinerant 
portrait  painter  found  work  ; but  the  one  universally  recognized  artist  was 
Peale.  He  was  accordingly  sought  by  sitters  from  afar  ; frequently  they 
came  from  Canada  and  the  West  Indies.  There  was  more  versatility  and 
aptitude  than  positive  genius  in  Peale  ; he  was  intuitively  mechanical ; he 
modelled  as  well  as  painted,  and  was  equally  at  home  with  crayon  and 
palette,  in  elaborate  oil  and  delicate  miniature  portraits.  It  is  a curious 
illustration  of  the  man  and  the  times,  that,  according  to  one  of  his  biogra- 
phers, “ he  sawed  his  own  ivory  for  his  miniatures,  moulded  the  glasses, 
and  made  the  shagreen  cases.”  His  conscientious  and  intelligent  labors 
in  the  cause  of  Art  merit  the  grateful  remembrance  he  enjoys.  “ His  like- 
nesses,” says  his  son  Rembrandt,  who  has  written  his  life,  “were  strong, 
but  never  flattered ; his  execution  spirited  and  natural.  The  last  years  of 
his  life  he  luxuriated  in  the  enjoyment  of  a country  life,  near  German- 
town, with  hanging  gardens,  grotto  and  fountain,  and  a hospitable  table 
for  all  his  friends.  His  last  painting  was  a full  length  portrait  of  himself, 
painted  at  the  age  of  eighty-three.  He  died  in  his  eighty-fifth  year,  in 
1826.” 

The  most  interesting  and  valuable  trophies  of  his  career  are  now 
gathered  in  Independence  Hall,  Philadelphia ; and,  however  deficient  in 
the  more  brilliant  qualities  of  artistic  genius,  have  the  charm  of  fidelity, 
and  often  are  the  sole  authentic  likenesses  of  the  eminent  men  delineated. 
In  this  respeCt,  they  form  a unique  municipal  collection — “within  the 
sacred  hall,  where,  in  committee  of  the  whole,  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence was  passed  and  signed,  and,  from  the  yard,  proclaimed  to  the 
world.”  Among  these  portraits,  by  Peale,  are  those  of  General  and  Mrs. 
Washington,  John  Hancock,  Robert  Morris,  Generals  Greene,  Gates,  Ham- 
ilton, Read,  Steuben,  Lincoln,  Rochambeau ; Dr.  Franklin,  Peyton  Ran- 
dolph, Volney,  Jefferson,  Laurens,  Bartram,  Chastellux,  Gallatin,  Rush,  Dick- 
inson, Witherspoon,  Pickering,  DeKalb,  Bishop  White,  Carroll,  and  Lord 
Sterling — one  hundred  and  seventeen  in  all,  including  most  of  the  celeb- 
rities, native  and  foreign,  associated  with  American  history  and  society, 
during  the  last  of  the  preceding  and  the  earlier  part  of  the  present  century. 
Peale’s  portrait  of  George  Clymer  is  in  the  Philadelphia  Academy,  his 
own  portrait,  by  West,  in  the  Bryan  collection  of  the  N.  Y.  Historical 
Society,  which  also  includes  Peale’s  family  group  of  Major  Ramsay,  the 
historian,  and  the  old  dog  Argus. 

Portraits  by  C.  W.  Peale,  of  Governor  McKean  and  his  son,  belong 
to  D.  Pratt  McKean,  Esq.,  Philadelphia,  and  of  Washington,  painted  at 
Valley  Forge.  There  is  an  interesting  portrait  of  Franklin  by  him, 
painted  a few  days  before  his  death,  the  result  of  a single  sitting.  “ I 
accompanied  my  father,”  writes  Rembrandt  Peale,  “ to  engage  him  for 
another.  We  found  him  sitting  up  in  his  bedroom,  in  much  pain,  with  the 
sad  conviction  that  he  should  never  leave  it.  Yet  the  resigned  expression 
of  his  venerable  countenance,  and  his  noble,  patriarchal  head,  from  which 
flowed  ample  locks  of  gray  hair  on  his  shoulders,  impressed  me  with  unspeak- 


54 


American  Artist  Life. 


able  reverence.”  At  the  sale  of  the  Peale  Museum,  this  portrait  was  bought 
by  and  is  now  in  the  collection  of  Joseph  Harrison,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia, 
who  also  owns  Peale’s  last  portrait  of  Washington,  painted  in  1783. 

Rev.  William  Hazlitt  came  to  America  soon  after  the  Revolutionary 
War,  with  a son,  the  future  essayist,  then  seven  or  eight  years  old,  a 
daughter,  and  an  older  son,  John,  who  was  a portrait  painter ; he  exe- 
cuted likenesses  in  Hingham,  Mass. ; among  them,  those  of  Gen.  Benja- 
min Lincoln,  Rev.  Ebenezer  Gay,  D.D.,  Col.  Nathan  Rice,  Dr.  Joshua 
Barker,  and  others.  T.  Earle  painted  portraits  in  Connecticut  in  1775, 
and  in  Charleston,  S.  C.,  in  1792;  his  full  length  portraits  of  Dr.  Dwight 
and  his  wife  are  in  Copley’s  manner,  with  black  shadows  ; this  painter  was 
among  the  Governor’s  militia  guard,  marched  to  Cambridge  and  Lexington, 
made  drawings  of  the  scenery  in  both  places,  and  outlined,  perhaps,  the 
first  historical  compositions  in  America ; they  were  engraved  by  his  com- 
rade in  arms,  Doolittle.  Earle  studied  with  W est,  and  returned  to  America 
in  1786 — painted  many  portraits  in  New  York  and  more  in  Connecticut; 
according  to  Dunlap,  he  had  “facility  of  handling,”  and  caught  likenesses 
well.  He  painted  Mrs.  Alexander  Hamilton  in  178 7 ; Earle  being  in  diffi- 
culty and  imprisoned  for  debt,  General  Hamilton  induced  his  wife  and 
other  ladies  to  sit  to  him  in  prison,  and  thereby  secured  his  release.  He 
was  the  father  of  Augustus  Earle,  known  as  “ the  wandering  artist,”  who 
practised  his  vocation  in  New  York  in  1818  ; a fellow-student  with  Leslie 
and  Morse,  who  used  to  relate  many  curious  anecdotes  of  his  roving  dis- 
position. 

Two  Americans,  whose  names  are  identified  with  the  early  history  of 
Art  in  this  country,  were  born  twenty  years  after  Peale  ; and  both  are  now 
chiefly  remembered  by  claims  to  public  gratitude  quite  diverse  from  those 
of  the  vocation  to  which  they  were  more  or  less  devoted.  I refer  to 
Robert  Fulton  and  William  Dunlap.  So  exclusively  associated  is  the 
former  with  the  grand  triumph  of  a vast  mechanical  experiment,  that  few 
are  aware  that  he  ever  loved  and  labored  in  the  sphere  of  the  Fine  Arts  ; 
while  the  latter’s  assiduity  in  collecting  the  facts  of  dramatic  and  artist  life 
in  America,  antecedent  to  and  cotemporaneous  with  his  own,  has  merged 
his  reputation  as  a painter  with  that  as  annalist. 

William  Dunlap  was  born  at  Perth  Amboy,  New  Jersey,  in  1766. 
He  prepared  an  elaborate  sketch  of  his  life,  which  abounds  in  curious 
adventure  and  versatile  enterprise.  He  was  but  seventeen  years  of  age 
when  he  began  to  execute  portraits  ; and  relates,  with  much  naivete,  his 
experience  when  Washington  gave  him  a sitting  at  the  house  of  Van 
Horne,  of  New  Jersey,  in  the  summer  of  ’83.  The  result  was  what  might 
be  expeCted  from  a novice  ; but  the  incident  was  memorable.  Dunlap 
went  to  London  and  studied  with  West ; his  success  as  an  artist  was  not 
remarkable  ; he  returned  to  New  York  and  joined  his  father  in  business, 
and  consoled  himself  abroad  and  at  home  by  wanderings  and  social  expe- 
riences of  which  the  record  is  amusing.  Having  failed  in  trade,  he  alter- 
nated through  a long  life  between  the  studio,  the  stage,  and  the  library,  as 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


55 


a resource  : in  other  words,  he  painted,  managed  a theatre,  and  wrote 
books  : for  quite  a period,  however,  Dunlap  steadily  pursued  Art ; he  exe- 
cuted a series  of  pictures  on  subjects  indicated  by  West,  which  were 
exhibited  ; he  took  an  active  part  in  establishing  the  New  York  Academy 
of  Fine  Arts,  and  his  portraits  are  numerous.  Fie  wrote  several  plays : 
a life  of  Brockden  Brown,  one  of  Cooke  ; a History  of  New  Netherlands, 
and  one  of  the  American  Theatre.  In  old  age  and  reduced  circumstances, 
encouraged  by  his  kind  physician,  Dr.  Francis,  he  compiled  the  History 
of  the  Arts  of  Design  in  the  United  States,  wherein  are  crudely  put 
together  many  facts  of  curious  interest  and  biographical  value — often  from 
the  pens  of  artists  then  living — facts  which  otherwise  must  have  been  soon 
forgotten  ; and  the  faithful  collection  of  which  was  a genial  service  ren- 
dered by  a venerable  artist  and  annalist  to  the  cause  and  the  country  he 
loved. 

He  died  in  New  York,  September  28,  1839.  Dunlap’s  personal  interest 
in  and  association  with  the  Fine  Arts,  rather  than  his  achievements  there- 
in, identify  him  with  their  origin  and  growth  among  us.  He  was  a worthy 
and  industrious  man,  with  strong  prejudices,  and  a tenacious  memory. 
During  his  latter  years,  when  suffering  from  straitened  circumstances  and 
illness,  he  was  warmly  befriended  by  some  of  our  leading  citizens.  One 
who  knew  him  well,  speaks  of  him  as  “the  acrimonious  Dunlap,”  yet 
credits  him  with  “ patient  research,”  * and  traces  his  influence  and  effi- 
ciency in  the  social  promotion  of  local  history  and  artistic  enterprise  and 
biography — at  a period  when  but  few  bestowed  any  thought  or  sympathy 
on  such  objects. 

Robert  Fulton  left  Lancaster  county,  Pennsylvania,  where  he  was  born 
in  1765,  to  practise  as  a draughtsman  in  Philadelphia,  having  been  ini- 
tiated therein  by  a schoolfellow.  Of  Irish  descent  and  in  narrow  cir- 
cumstances, his  temperament  and  his  position  urged  him  to  exertion  ; 
and  whatever  his  artist-skill  might  have  been  in  the  estimation  of 
critical  taste,  it  sufficed  in  a few  years  to  win  him  a sum  adequate  to  the 
purchase  of  a farm,  whereon  he  comfortably  established  his  widowed 
mother.  Removing  to  New  York,  he  was  known  and  encouraged  there  in 
1785  as  a miniature  painter;  but  soon  became  absorbed  in  mechanical 
inventions,  and  went  abroad  to  study  and  submit  his  economical  theories 
to  savans  and  governments.  His  patience  and  genius  in  these  enterprises 
is  a familiar  story — alike  honorable  to  his  character  and  his  country  ; and 
the  successful  application  of  steam  to  navigation  was  the  crowning  achieve- 
ment to  a life  of  rare  vicissitude,  experiment,  and  energy.  He  never, 
however,  forgot  the  love  of  his  youth  ; his  leisure  was  appropriated  abroad 
and  at  home  to  the  promotion  and  practice  of  Art.  He  sketched  pic- 
turesque figures  by  the  way-side  in  his  travels  on  the  Continent,  and  occa- 
sionally executed  the  portrait  of  a friend  ; his  intervals  of  waiting  for 
recognition  as  a mechanician — whether  in  regard  to  submarine  ordnance 


* Old  New  York. 


56 


American  Artist  Life . 


or  improvements  in  canal  navigation,  submitted  to  government  agents  in 
Paris,  were  devoted  to  executing  the  first  panorama  exhibited  in  that  city — 
a branch  of  art  then  original,  and  which  has  since  proved  of  wide  utility 
and  interest.  He  wrote  from  London  urging  the  citizens  of  Philadelphia 
to  secure  West’s  pictures  as  the  nucleus  of  a national  gallery;  and  when 
unsuccessful,  bought  the  Ophelia  and  Lear  at  the  Royal  Academy  sale, 
and  bequeathed  them  to  the  New  York  association  of  artists ; he 
spent  five  thousand  dollars  upon  engravings  of  West’s  illustrations  of  Bar- 
low’s heavy  epic,  and  gave  the  interest  thus  obtained  in  the  copyright 
to  the  author’s  widow — the  original  studies  being  among  the  curious  and 
cherished  trophies  of  his  long  and  amiable  relations  with  the  venerable 
pioneer  artist  of  America.  In  these  and  various  ways  Fulton  proved  an 
early  and  efficient  friend  to,  as  well  as  votary  of,  Art.  Of  his  own  pictures 
few  exist ; a print  from  one  of  them  representing  Louis  XIV.  in  prison  with 
his  family,  indicates  no  inconsiderable  skill  and  grace  of  composition  and 
execution.  His  portraits  are  very  rare  ; there  is  one  in  Philadelphia,  of 
Mr.  Plumstead’s  sister,  in  the  possession  of  the  family,  which  is  probably 
a fair  specimen.  “Fulton,”  says  Dr.  Francis,  “was  emphatically  a man 
of  the  people,  ambitious,  indeed,  but  above  all  sordid  designs  ; he  pur- 
sued ideas  more  than  money.  Science  was  more  captivating  to  him  than 
pecuniary  gains  ; and  the  promotion  of  the  arts,  useful  and  refined,  more 
absorbing  than  the  accumulation  of  the  miser’s  treasures.  I shall  never 
forget  the  night  of  February  24,  1815,  on  which  he  died.  I had  been 
with  him  at  his  residence  a short  time  before,  to  arrange  some  papers 
relative  to  Chancellor  Livingston  and  the  floating  dock  eredted  at  Brook- 
lyn.  Business  despatched,  he  entered  upon  the  character  of  West,  and 
the  pictures  of  Lear  and  Ophelia,  which  he  had  deposited  in  the  American 
Academy.” 

There  are  three  portraits  in  the  possession  of  the  Massachusetts  Histo- 
rical Society,  by  Colonel  Henry  Sargent — of  Rev.  John  Clark,  General  B. 
Lincoln,  and  Jeremy  Belknap,  D.D.  ; and  they  recall  an  instance  of  dal- 
liance with,  rather  than  devotion  to,  Art,  characteristic  of  her  early  devel- 
opment among  us.  Although  Colonel  Sargent  never  lost  his  fondness  for 
painting  or  entirely  relinquished  its  practice,  other  tastes  and  occupations, 
and,  for  many  years,  uncertain  health,  rendered  the  pursuit  with  him,  occa- 
sional ; while  his  best  efforts  indicate  a culture  and  talent  which,  under  more 
favorable  circumstances,  would  have  gained  him  a high  and  wide  reputation. 

He  was  born  in  Gloucester,  Massachusetts,  in  1770  ; his  father,  an  emi- 
nent merchant,  resided  at  Newburyport,  and  the  son  was  educated  at  Dum- 
mer  Academy,  until  the  departure  of  the  British  troops  from  Boston  ena- 
bled his  father  to  remove  to  that  city,  in  whose  excellent  schools  the  future 
artist’s  early  studies  were  completed.  He  was  intended  for  a merchant,  and 
entered  first  the  counting-house  of  Thomas  Perkins  and  subsequently  that 
of  his  father.  No  indication  of  an  aptitude  for  or  love  of  Art  had,  as  is  usual, 
appeared  ; and  his  first  interest  in  the  subject  was  inspired  by  some  chalk 
sketches  of  his  brother’s,  on  the  walls  of  their  chamber  ; he  imitated  and  ex- 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


57 


celled  them ; and  when  a painter  was  at  work  on  one  of  his  father’s  ships, 
took  advantage  of  the  man’s  absence,  to  try  his  hand  at  a sea  nymph  with 
the  paint-pot  and  pound  brush.  Thenceforth  he  was  constantly  drawing, 
and  his  father  supplied  him  with  more  eligible  means  of  gratifying  his  taste. 
He  copied  Copley’s  Shark  pifiture,  and  Trumbull,  when  in  Boston  in  1790, 
praised  the  work.  He  went  to  London  in  1793,  and  profited  by  the  kindly 
counsels  of  West  and  Copley;  on  returning  to  Boston  and  finding  little 
encouragement  in  his  chosen  pursuit,  he  accepted  a commission  in  the 
army  raised  in  1799,  and  was  placed  under  the  immediate  direction  of 
General  Hamilton.  The  taste  for  military  life  then  acquired,  divided  his 
attention  with  love  of  Art ; he  was  commissioned  by  successive  governors 
of  his  native  State.  “ I well  remember,”  says  Dunlap,  “the  finest  body 
of  light  infantry  I ever  saw,  going  through  their  evolutions  in  the  mall 
and  on  the  Common,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Sargent.”  He  was 
also  distinguished  in  political  and  social  life.  His  most  elaborate  picture 
is  the  “ Landing  of  the  Pilgrims  ; ” it  cost  many  years’  labor,  was  exhibited 
and  almost  ruined  by  careless  rolling  on  fresh,  unseasoned  pine  ; the 
sap  rotted  the  picture  and  it  fell  to  pieces  in  unrolling.  His  next  large 
picture  was  “ Christ  entering  Jerusalem,”  and  it  was  quite  popular  ; an- 
other called  “ The  Dinner  Party  ” was  remarkable  for  its  light  and  shade. 
“ Christ  Crucified  ” is  in  the  possession  of  the  original  Roman  Catholic 
Society  in  Boston.  His  “Dinner  and  Tea  Party” — beautiful  and  fin- 
ished pictures,  originally  belonged  to  Mr.  D.  L.  Brown,  of  that  city  ; his 
full  length  of  Peter  Faneuil  hangs  in  the  famous  hall  of  that  name;  the 
“Tailor’s  News”  and  “ Starved  Apothecary  ” are  from  the  same  pencil. 

The  portraits  of  Jarvis  are  widely  scattered  and  singularly  unequal  in 
merit.  They  may  be  found  in  old  Southern  manor-houses  and  Eastern 
municipal  halls.  Inman,  who  was  several  years  his  pupil,  gives  us  a good 
idea  of  the  rapid  and  careless  manner  in  which  Jarvis  despatched  work 
when  in  pecuniary  stress  or  a gainful  humor — dashing  off  five  or  six  heads 
a day,  and  leaving  them  for  his  protege  to  finish  up,  and  add  draperies  and 
accessories.  Sometimes,  however,  he  was  more  painstaking  and  elaborate. 
He  painted  many  of  our  naval  heroes  of  the  War  of  1812.  Among  his 
famous  sitters  were  Bishop  Moore,  of  New  York,  John  Randolph,  of  Vir- 
ginia, DeWitt  Clinton,  Halleck,  and  Commodore  Perry.  His  portraits  of 
Perry,  Hull,  McDonough,  Bainbridge  and  Swift  and  General  Brown,  are  in 
the  City  Hall,  N.  Y.;  those  of  John  Randolph,  Rev.  Dr.  Stanford,  Daniel 
Tompkins,  Christopher  Colies,  Egbert  Benson,  and  Robert  Morris,  are  in 
the  collection  of  the  N.  Y.  Historical  Society.  A portrait  of  the  Hon.  Stephen 
Van  Renssellaer,  father  of  the  present  patroon,  at  the  manor-house,  is  a 
good  exemplar  of  his  manner.  James  M.  Falconer,  Esq.,  of  New  York, 
the  accomplished  treasurer  of  the  Artists’  Fund  Society,  has  a water- 
colored  portrait  by  Jarvis — one  of  those  mentioned  by  Dunlap,  as  painted 
in  Broadway,  near  the  old  City  Hall — also  a portrait  of  much  merit,  by 
Bass  Otis,  of  Jarvis  ; — they  having  for  a time  worked  together  in  a kind  of 
partnership.  Some  qualities  in  this  work  are  very  fine,  and  met  the  ap- 


58 


Am  eric m i Artist  Life. 


proval  of  the  artist’s  friends  ; it  is  on  panel,  cut  clown  rather  closely  to  the 
life-size  head.  His  delineations  of  morbid  anatomy,  illustrative  of  the 
cholera,  were  highly  praised  by  the  Faculty.  Many  of  his  heads  are 
painted  with  a characteristic  vigor  and  individuality  which,  under  more 
favorable  circumstances,  would  have  given  him  a higher  and  more  perma- 
nent rank. 

A native  of  South  Shields  on  the  Tyne,  and  a nephew  of  the  celebrated 
Wesley,  John  Wesley  Jarvis  took  the  lead  in  portraiture  for  several  years 
on  this  side  of  the  water — when  the  art  of  painting  was  in  a transition  and 
comparatively  ignoble  state  among  us.  Born  in  1780,  at  the  age  of  five 
years  he  was  sent  to  his  father,  who  had  emigrated  to  America,  and  was 
then  in  Philadelphia.  The  boy  was  soon  left  to  himself,  his  parent  being 
a mariner  by  profession  ; J>ut  the  lad’s  disposition  and  talent  were  such  as 
make  friends.  Dr.  Rush  took  an  interest  in  him  ; Stuart  did  not  consider 
his  promise  remarkable,  and  therefore  discouraged  his  artistic  ambition  ; 
but  Edwin,  an  employe  of  that  gifted  painter,  taught  the  young  novice  to 
draw  ; Martin,  in  New  York,  was  more  kindly  than  capable  as  a teacher  ; 
and  Gallagher,  another  artist,  gave  him  hints  and  help.  One  of  his  earliest 
attempts  was  a likeness  of  Hogg,  a well-known  comedian  of  the  day  ; and, 
ere  long,  the  youth  was  deemed  more  clever  than  Buddington.  Malbone’s 
success  and  friendliness  inspired  Jarvis  to  practise  miniature  painting  ; and 
he  invented  a machine  for  drawing  profiles  on  glass  ; he  also  executed 
them  in  black  and  gold-leaf;  and,  associated  with  Joseph  Wood,  in  Park 
row,  at  one  time  earned,  upon  an  average,  a hundred  dollars  daily — 
charging  live  for  each  gilded  silhouette.  Profiting  by  the  instructions  of 
Malbone,  Wood  became  a successful  artist  in  this  department;  his  like- 
ness of  Paulding  has  been  lately  engraved  and  prefixed  to  that  pioneer 
author’s  life,  by  his  son. 

Those  artistic  comrades  and  partners  were  gay  fellows  ; Wood  played 
the  violin  and  flute,  and  Jarvis  was  an  inimitable  raconteur , and  fond  of 
practical  jokes  ; but  they  were  of  the  Bohemian  order — not  aspiring  in 
their  social  relations,  unwise  but  witty,  often  industrious,  but  always  er- 
ratic ; both,  says  Dunlap,  “ made  mysterious  marriages.”  We  next  find 
Jarvis  established  in  Broadway,  and  rapidly  painting  profiles  on  Bristol 
board  at  five  dollars  each,  u very  like  and  pretty,”  according  to  the  preva- 
lent standard  of  taste  ; he  also  had  frequent  and  more  profitable  orders 
for  works  in  oil  and  on  ivory.  He  turned  his  attention  with  much  zeal  to 
anatomical  studies  ; and  borrowed  from  Dr.  Francis  the  then  novel  trea- 
tises of  Gall  and  Spurzheim,  which,  said  the  painter,  “make  our  art  a 
science  ; ” he  was  struck  with  the  want  of  individuality  of  most  engraved 
heads,  and  recognized  a character  in  the  contour  and  minute  diversities 
thereof  in  nature,  which  he  now  felt  had  been  neglected  in  portraiture. 
To  obtain  a precise  knowledge  in  this  regard,  Jarvis  began  to  model  care- 
fully from  life.  There  is  a curious  specimen  of  these  experiments  in  the 
collection  of  the  N.  Y.  Historical  Society:  a plaster  cast  from  Jarvis’ 
model  of  Tom  Paine’s  cranium  and  features — the  extraordinary  proboscis 


Early  Portrait  Painters.  59 

identifying  it  to  everyone  who  has  ever  formed  an  idea  from  description 
of  the  author  of  “ Common  Sense.” 

Among  the  numerous  eccentricities  of  Jarvis  was  a dogmatical  pride  ; 
he  relished  an  opinion  antagonistic  to  the  multitude  ; and  to  this  habitude 
of  mind  we  must  attribute  his  perverse  denial  of  great  merit  to  Stuart, 
though  it  may  have  originated  in  that  artist’s  want  of  recognition  of  his 
own  youthful  aspirations.  One  of  his  favorite  books  was  the  Life  of 
Moreland,  whom  he  deemed  a character  akin  to  his  own.  For  many  years, 
Jarvis  annually  made  a professional  tour  to  the  South  ; his  abilities  were 
in  constant  requisition  ; vagabondage  was  intuitive  ; anecdote  his  forte ; 
by  turns  extravagant  and  laborious,  dramatic  and  domestic;  almost  desti- 
tute of  what  the  phrenologists  call  the  organ  of  order  ; social  by  instinct, 
convivial  by  temperament,  capable  of  vigorous  artistic  effects,  yet  imprudent 
and  reckless,  with  hosts  of  acquaintances,  keen  observation,  inexpressible 
humor,  violent  prejudices,  and  genial  fellowship — the  traditional  man,  as 
known  through  still  current  anecdotes  and  the  personal  reminiscences  of 
his  intimates,  is  far  more  of  a character  than  a painter ; his  words  are 
more  vital  than  his  pictures,  his  personal  qualities  more  salient  than  his 
professional ; for  the  idea  we  form  of  Jarvis  assimilates  him  to  several 
memorable  characters,  familiar  to  all  who  affeCt  the  oddities  of  human  na- 
ture ; he  reminds  us  sometimes  of  Abernethy  and  sometimes  of  Theodore 
Hook,  now  of  Fuseli  and  again  of  Jerrold;  his  love  of  notoriety,  his  fan- 
tasy in  costume,  his  remarkable  conversational  talents  and  imitative  skill, 
his  fund  of  amusing  stories,  his  independent  habits,  costly  dinners,  and 
improvised  suppers,  and  the  variety  of  characters  with  which  he  came  in 
contact,  are  still  vividly  remembered  ; and  have,  in  a manner,  caused  the 
artist  to  disappear  in  the  boon-companion.  His  way  of  life  favored  this 
predominance  of  social  over  professional  interest.  In  summer,  his  studio 
in  New  York  was  the  favorite  haunt  of  the  wits  ; and,  in  winter,  he  was 
the  welcome  guest  on  isolated  plantations  or  in  the  cities  of  the  South  ; 
and  was  ever  meeting  with  curious  adventures,  and  adding  to  his  stock  of 
facetious  or  dramatic  narratives.  His  rooms  are  described  as  chaotic  in 
the  juxtaposition  of  artistic  implements  and  domestic  utensils — palettes  in 
all  conditions,  decanters,  dresses,  a cradle,  an  easel,  musical  glasses,  books, 
lay  figures — inextricable  confusion,  sometimes  picturesque,  but  rarely  com- 
fortable ; yet,  amid  these  paraphernalia  of  art  and  economy,  the  richest 
“ feast  of  reason  and  flow  of  soul  ” would  often  be  realized — canvas-backs 
eaten  with  a one-pronged  fork,  and  rare  wines  drunk  without  the  aid  of  a 
cork-screw,  and  from  glasses  of  all  shapes.  Out  of  doors,  the  painter  was 
recognized  at  one  time  by  his  “ long  coat,  trimmed  with  fur  ” ; at  another, 
by  the  companionship  of  two  enormous  dogs  ; now  by  the  dandyism,  and 
now  by  the  slovenliness  of  his  attire.  It  was  said,  with  some  truth,  that 
story-telling  had  been  fatal  to  Jarvis  ; doubtless,  his  extravagance  was 
stimulated  by  his  social  habits.  Matthews  dramatized  many  of  his  im- 
promptu descriptions.  The  finale  of  such  a life  is  easily  anticipated  ; ne- 
gleCt,  excitement,  improvidence,  never  can  produce  the  results  of  method, 


6o 


American  Artist  Life. 


self-control,  and  foresight;  but,  withal,  Jarvis,  as  his  friendly  biographer 
boasts,  was  no  hypocrite  or  sycophant ; his  comic  powers  and  “ tales  of  a 
traveller,”  with  his  labors  as  an  artist,  are  among  the  curious  social  phe- 
nomena of  a period  when  conviviality  was  more  sanctioned  by  fashion  ; and 
the  deeper  insight  and  more  generalized  experience  of  a scientific  era  had 
not  yet  quite  dissipated  the  popular  fallacy  that  genius  is  inevitably  allied 
to  recklessness,  and,  in  pursuit  of  art  and  literature,  a valid  excuse  for 
despising  the  wholesome  discipline  of  social  conformity. 

Of  the  stage  improvisations  caught  from  Jarvis,  by  Dunlap,  Hackett,  and 
Matthews,  two  are  remembered  by  veteran  habitues  of  the  theatre, — “ Mon- 
sieur Mallet”  and  a “Trip  to  Niagara,” — both  indebted  to  the  painter  for 
the  incident  and  characters.  His  biographer  describes  his  “last  visit”  to 
Jarvis  in  a manner  which  would  have  afforded  pathetic  and  picturesque 
hints  to  Hogarth  or  Dickens.  He  that  was  wont  “to  set  the  table  in  a 
roar  ” was  a mere  wreck  of  his  former  self,  his  tongue  paralyzed,  his  memory 
weakened,  his  strong  constitution  broken  down  ; separated  from  his  wife, 
who  kept  the  children,  and  therefore  alone  ; surrounded  by  unfinished 
portraits,  bottles,  and  brushes,  and  vitality  only  prolonged  by  stimulants. 
The  habits  and  tone,  not  less  than  the  professional  career  of  Jarvis,  illus- 
trate a class  and  a period  in  our  Art  history  ; facility  of  execution  and 
social  talents  may  be  called  the  capital  of  such  painters  ; occasionally,  in 
a happy  mood,  and,  in  an  hour  of  high  resolve,  doing  justice  to  their  talent 
and  ideal  as  limners — but  unable  to  sustain  “ the  height  of  that  great  argu- 
ment ;”  and  therefore,  never,  in  life  or  art,  attaining  the  consistent  dig- 
nity and  gracious  progress  of  an  Allston  or  a Malbone.  One  significant 
difference  in  the  two  orders  of  men  is,  that  the  latter  sought  and  wooed 
the  best  female  society,  thereby  refining  and  elevating  their  sentiments  ; 
while  the  former  found  social  position  almost  exclusively  with  their  own 
sex,  and  hence  had  no  restraint  on  those  convivial  tendencies  which  so 
often  mar  their  fortunes  and  their  fame.  Anecdotes  of  his  professional 
evasion  of  Bishop  Moore’s  religious  appeals  to  him,  while  sitting  for  his 
portrait,  and  of  his  ruse  to  excite  Perry’s  anger,  in  order  to  give  spirit  to 
the  likeness,  with  many  similar  illustrations  of  his  humorous  tadt,  Jarvis 
used  to  relate  with  singular  relish  and  effect.  He  was  a ludicrous  imitator 
of  lisping  and  stuttering  readers.  “ Dr.  Syntax,”  says  Dr.  Francis,  “never 
sought  after  the  pidturesque  with  more  avidity  than  did  Jarvis  after  the 
scenes  of  many-colored  life  ; his  stories,  particularly  those  connected  with 
his  Southern  tours,  abounded  in  motley  scenes.  His  humor  won  admira- 
tion ; but  he  deserves  to  be  remembered  also  for  his  corporeal  intrepidity 
and  reckless  indifference  to  consequences  : he  became  familiar  with  the 
terrific  scenes  of  yellow  fever  and  cholera.  He  seemed  to  have  had  a 
singular  desire  to  become  personally  acquainted  with  their  details  ; and  a 
death-bed  scene,  with  all  its  appalling  circumstances,  in  a disorder  of  a 
formidable  character,  was  sought  after  by  him  with  the  solicitude  of  the 
inquirer  after  fresh  news.”  The  manner  in  which  his  own  decease  is  re- 
corded in  the  annals  of  the  National  Academy  is  a suggestive  commentary 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


6 1 

on  his  career:  “He  was  not  a member  of  the  Academy;  he  was,  how- 
ever, one  of  the  best  portrait-painters  of  the  day,— eccentric,  witty,  con- 
vivial ; and  his  society  much  sought  by  the  social.  He  died  in  extreme 
poverty,  under  the  roof  of  his  sister,  Mrs.  Childs.” 

At  the  South,  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  has  been  prominent  in  en- 
couragement to  art ; as  in  Virginia,  many  ancestral  portraits,  some  of 
English  origin,  and  others  by  Copley,  adorn  the  older  family  mansions, 
Malbone’s  miniatures  are  among  the  cherished  heir-looms.  At  the 
commencement  of  the  present  century,  this  accomplished  artist,  with  Fra- 
ser and  Allston,  was  professionally  occupied  and  socially  honored  in  the 
State  which  enjoys  the  high  distinction  of  being  the  native  place  of  the 
latter.  Charles  Fraser  was  also  born  at  Charleston,  May  20,  1782;  and 
died  there  on  the  fifth  of  October,  i860.  He  began  to  delineate  the  scen- 
ery around  his  native  city  when  a mere  lad.  Destined  by  his  family  for 
the  legal  profession,  he  commenced  his  studies  therefor  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen ; after  three  years  of  exclusive  devotion  to  law,  he  resumed  practice 
with  the  pencil,  but  had  no  longer  the  same  confidence  in  his  abilities,  and, 
therefore,  again  became  a law-student ; and,  in  1807,  was  admitted  to  the 
bar.  With  a wise  providence,  rare  in  the  artistic  fraternity,  he  succeeded, 
by  assiduous  attention  to  his  professional  business,  in  acquiring  sufficient 
to  live  with  economy  after  eleven  years  of  work  ; and,  thereupon,  felt  at 
liberty  to  follow  the  pursuit  so  dear  to  his  taste,  wherein  the  example  and 
friendship  of  Malbone  had  confirmed  him.  Like  this  accomplished  and 
endeared  artist-friend,  Fraser  gave  his  attention  chiefly  to  miniature,  and 
attained  therein  a rare  degree  of  eminence.  When  Lafayette  visited  the 
United  States  in  1825,  his  portrait  was  painted  by  Fraser.  Besides  numer- 
ous works  in  this  department,  he  executed  pictures  in  historical,  genre , 
and  scenic  art ; and,  to  add  to  the  versatility  of  his  talents,  he  excelled  in 
literature  ; many  admirable  public  addresses,  numerous  graceful  and  high- 
toned  poems,  and  contributions  to  periodicals  attest  his  culture,  reflection, 
and  fancy.  Throughout  his  native  State  the  evidences  of  his  artistic  taste 
and  assiduity  are  scattered  ; and  it  has  been  said  that  there  is  no  distin- 
guished native  thereof,  who  has  lived  within  the  last  fifty  or  sixty  years, 
whose  “counterfeit  presentment”  was  not  painted  by  Fraser.  Indeed,  the 
best  proof  of  his  industry  and  skill  was  afforded  his  fellow-citizens  in  1857, 
when  an  exhibition  of  his  collected  works  was  opened  at  Charleston  ; 
among  them  were  miniatures  or  oil  portraits  of  the  Rutledges,  the  Pink- 
neys, the  Pettigrus,  the  Hugers,  Haynes,  Lowndses,  Pringles,  and  other 
well-known  Carolina  families  ; — no  less  than  three  hundred  and  thirteen 
miniatures,  and  one  hundred  and  thirty-nine  landscapes  and  compositions. 

James  Froth ingham  was  born  in  Charlestown,  Massachusetts,  in  1786,  and 
followed  his  father’s  trade, — that  of  a builder  of  chaise-bodies, — in  painting 
which  he  experimented  with  color,  then  in  drawing,  and  finally  attempted 
chalk  likenesses  with  a success  which  encouraged  him  to  try  oil  painting, 
which  he  did  in  a very  crude  and  ingenious  fashion,  having  to  work  out 
his  ideas  without  any  familiarity  with  established  processes.  His  first 


62 


American  Artist  Life. 


accidental  encounter  with  a portrait-painter  put  him  on  the  right  track 
A son  of  General  Whiting,  who  had  studied  with  Stuart,  instructed  him 
how  to  prepare,  modify,  and  apply  colors,  so  that  he  commenced  at  the  age 
of  twenty  a professional  career,  carried  a specimen  of  his  work  to  Stuart, 
who  advised  him  to  stick  to  coach-building,  but  subsequently  praised  his 
work,  and  at  last  declared,  “there  is  no  man  in  Boston,  but  myself,  can 
paint  so  good  a head.”  In  Salem  and  New  York,  Frothingham  was  em- 
ployed ; he  made  admirable  copies  of  Stuart’s  Washington,  and  some  of 
his  portraits  in  color  and  character  are  excellent;  but  so  precarious  were 
his  gains  that  he  often  repeated  his  great  instructor’s  advice,  and  in  an 
economical  point  of  view  thought  he  had  better  have  stuck  to  his  first 
vocation  ; he  continued,  however,  says  Dunlap,  “painting  heads  with  great 
truth,  freedom,  and  excellence,  but  not  with  that  undeviating  employment 
which  popular  painters  of  far  inferior  talent  often  find.” 

Rembrandt  Peale  was  born  on  the  22d  of  February,  1787,  in  Buck’s 
county,  Pennsylvania,  and  died  in  Philadelphia,  October  3,  i860.  He 
could  draw  remarkably  well  for  a child,  at  the  age  of  eight ; he  executed 
many  portraits,  when  a young  man,  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina  ; became 
a pupil  of  West,  in  London,  and  was  long  occupied  in  Paris  making  like- 
nesses of  European  celebrities  for  his  father’s  museum.  Two  of  his  more 
elaborate  works  were  exhibited  many  years  ago,  and  attracted  much  atten- 
tion, “ The  Roman  Daughter,”  and  the  “ Court  of  Death.”  The  latter 
was  a very  large  work,  and  very  successful  as  an  exhibition  picture.  It 
was  suggested  by  a passage  in  the  Poem  on  Death,  by  Bishop  Porteus  ; 
it  was  twenty-four  feet  by  thirteen,  and  contained  twenty-three  figures. 
During  the  remainder  of  his  long  life,  Peale  occupied  himself  with  por- 
trait-painting. His  portraits  of  Denon  and  Houdon  are  in  the  Philadel- 
phia Academy  of  Fine  Arts  ; that  of  Dr.  Houghton,  of  Dublin,  in  the  col- 
lection of  A.  M.  Cozzens,  of  New  York  ; those  of  Rammohun  Roy,  Joseph 
Dennie,  Jefferson,  and  Priestly,  in  the  possession  of  the  New  York  Plis- 
torical  Society. 

Rembrandt  Peale,  when  quite  young,  became  the  companion  of  his 
father’s  artistic  labors.  In  compliment  to  the  latter,  Washington  sat  for  a 
likeness  to  the  novice  of  eighteen,  who  says  the  honor  agitated  more  than 
it  inspired  him,  and  he  solicited  his  father’s  intercession  and  countenance 
on  the  memorable  occasion.  Of  the  precise  value  of  his  original  sketch 
it  is  difficult  to  form  an  accurate  opinion  ; but  the  mature  result  of  his 
efforts  to  produce  a portrait  of  Washington  has  attained  a high  and  per- 
manent fame.  He  availed  himself  of  the  best  remembered  traits,  and 
always  worked  with  lioudon’s  bust  before  him.  This  celebrated  picture 
is  the  favorite  portrait  of  a large  number  of  amateurs.  It  is  more  dark 
and  mellowed  in  tint,  more  elaborately  worked  up,  and,  in  some  respeCts, 
more  effectively  arranged,  than  any  of  its  predecessors.  Enclosed  in  an 
oval  of  well-imitated  stone  fretwork,  vigorous  in  execution,  rich  in  color, 
the  brow,  eyes,  and  mouth,  full  of  character — altogether  it  is  a striking 
and  impressive  delineation.  That  it  was  thus  originally  regarded  we  may 


Early  Portrait  Painteis.  63 

infer  from  the  unanimous  resolution  of  the  United  States  Senate,  in  1832, 
appropriating  two  thousand  dollars  for  its  purchase,  and  from  the  numer- 
ous copies  of  the  original,  in  military  costume,  belonging  to  the  artist, 
which  were  ordered.  Rembrandt  Peale  was  long  the  only  living  artist 
who  ever  saw  Washington.  In  the  pamphlet  which  he  issued  to  authen- 
ticate the  work,  we  find  the  cordial  testimony  to  its  fidelity  and  other  mer- 
its of  Lawrence  Lewis,  the  eldest  nephew  of  Washington  ; of  the  late  ven- 
erable John  Vaughan,  of  Bishop  White,  Rufus  King,  Charles  Carroll, 
Edward  Livingston,  General  Smith,  Dr.  James  Thatcher,  and  Judge 
Cranch.  Chief  Justice  Marshall  says  of  it : “It  is  more  Washington 
himself  than  any  portrait  I have  ever  seen  and  Judge  Peters  explains  his 
approval  by  declaring,  “ I judge  from  its  e fife 61  on  my  heart.”  * 

On  the  first  of  April,  1866,  a genuine  representative  of  the  Western 
artist  died  in  Boston  ; and  his  career  may  be  regarded  as  the  connecting 
link  between  the  early  and  the  present  generation  of  American  portrait 
painters.  Born  in  a little  mountain  village  of  Franklin  county,  Massachu- 
setts, called  Conway,  in  1792,  he  knew  all  the  privations  and  struggles  of 
rustic  indigence  ; but  blest  with  an  excellent  mother,  he  learned  self-reli- 
ance, and  was  a cheerful  “hired  boy”  as  soon  as  he  was  old  enough  to 
work.  The  family  emigrated  to  Western  New  York  when  Chester  Harding 
was  fourteen  ; he  became  an  itinerant  vender  and  agent,  and  thus  traversed 
the  country  in  a wagon,  enjoying  new  glimpses  of  life,  until  he  fell  in  love  with 
a rural  beauty,  turned  chairmaker,  and  went  to  Pittsburgh,  Pennsylvania, 
which  place  he  reached  on  a raft,  having  arrived  at  the  Alleghany  river  on 
foot.  “ All  our  valuables,”  he  says,  “ consisted  of  one  bed  and  a chest  of 
clothing  and  some  cooking  utensils,  so  that  we  had  little  labor  in  getting 
settled  down.”  Here  he  went  to  work  as  a sign-painter,  and  thus  gained 
a livelihood  for  a twelvemonth,  when  the  advent  of  an  artist  completely 
changed  his  destiny.  Fascinated  by  the  vocation,  he  watched  the  progress 
of  his  own  and  his  wife’s  portraits,  and  then  tried  to  imitate  the  process. 
Upon  partially  succeeding,  in  a very  crude  manner,  he  threw  himself  with 
enthusiasm  into  the  pursuit  ; painted  a hundred  likenesses  in  six  months, 
at  twenty-five  dollars  each  ; went  to  Philadelphia,  and  profited  by  the  obser- 
vation and  criticism  there  afforded  ; and  finally  became  prosperously  estab- 
lished in  his  new  and  improvised  vocation,  at  St.  Louis.  In  1823,  Harding 
was  the  fashion  in  Boston  ; even  Stuart  was  neglected,  and  used  to  ask 
sarcastically,  “ How  goes  the  Harding  fever  ? ” He  went  to  London  and 
began  to  study ; was  kindly  treated  by  Leslie  and  Lawrence,  made  good 
likenesses  of  the  Dukes  of  Sussex,  Hamilton,  and  Norfolk,  and  of  Alison 
the  historian,  and  Rogers  the  poet.  On  his  return,  he  continued,  with 
more  or  less  assiduity  and  success,  the  career  begun  under  such  discour- 
agements. His  portraits  of  Daniel  Webster  and  other  celebrities  are 
much  esteemed ; his  last  work  was  an  excellent  likeness  of  General  Sher- 
man, which  he  painted  in  St.  Louis,  the  scene  of  his  earliest  good  fortune  ; 


* Charact&er  and  Portraits  of  Washington. 


6 4 


American  Artist  Life. 

and,  in  the  spring,  passing  through  Boston,  on  his  annual  sporting  excur- 
sion to  Cape  Cod,  he  was  taken  ill,  and  died,  at  the  age  of  seventy-three,  in 
the  city  where  his  original  reputation  first  dawned.  “ I feel,”  he  says, 
“that  I owe  more  to  it  than  to  any  other  place  ; more  of  my  professional 
life  has  been  spent  in  this  city  than  anywhere  else  ; and  it  is  around  it 
that  my  most  grateful  recollections  cluster.”  Harding  was  very  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  and  athletic  ; in  build  and  aspeCt  a fine,  manly  specimen  of  his 
race  ; he  was  an  ardent  disciple  of  Isaac  Walton,  and  a favorite  compan- 
ion of  genial  sportsmen  ; unaffected,  kindly,  simple,  frank,  and  social,  his 
personal  qualities  greatly  promoted  his  artistic  success.  His  numerous 
portraits,  -widely  scattered  over  the  country,  are,  in  many  instances,  highly 
valued,  because  they  adequately  suggest  the  expression  and  appearance  of 
the  departed  to  loving  survivors  ; yet  incorrectness  in  drawing  often  ren- 
ders them  valueless  as  works  of  Art,  and  no  one  was  more  keenly  aware 
of  their  deficiencies  than  the  artist  himself ; independent  and  unpretend- 
ing, it  was  the  true  native  flavor  of  the  man  and  cleverness  of  the  painter, 
rathei  than  adequate  discipline,  that  won  him  both  affeCtion  and  success. 

From  several  tributes  to  his  memory  which  were  elicited  by  his  death, 
we  cull  the  following  : “ It  was  impossible  to  see  him  without  both  admir- 
ing and  liking  him  ; he  had,  in  his  heart  as  well  as  in  his  manners,  that 
quality  which  wins  affeCtion  at  the  same  time  it  inspires  respeCt ; and  his 
constant  regard  for  the  rights  and  feelings  of  others  was  his  shield  against 
any  invasion  of  his  own.  A duke  who  met  him  in  a drawing-room,  a 
country  lad  who  was  his  companion  in  a fishing-excursion,  would  find  that 
his  manhood  was  broad  enough  for  both.  He  visited  England  twice,  and 
there  was  hardly  a place  in  the  United  States  where  he  was  not  known. 
His  conversation  was  rich  in  recollections  of  eminent  men  of  all  kinds  in 
both  hemispheres,  while  it  was  absolutely  untainted  by  self-assertion  and 
self-conceit.  At  one  time  we  heard  of  him  as  painting  Daniel  Webster  at 
Washington,  and  soon  after  that  he  had  started  off  to  the  wilds  of  the  West 
to  paint  Daniel  Boone.  The  massiveness  and  vigor  of  his  body,  his  noble 
presence,  and  the  mingled  rusticity  and  courtliness  of  his  manners,  gave 
intimations  of  the  stern  and  rough  nursing  of  his  earlier  years,  and  kept 
the  remembrance  of  the  scenes  and  hardships  through  which  he  had  made 
his  way  to  the  intimacy  with  the  most  distinguished  men  in  his  middle  and 
later  life. 

“ His  children  had  often  urged  him  to  put  upon  record,  at  least  for  their 
use,  some  memorial  of  his  early  experiences.  He  gratified  their  wishes, 
so  far  as  to  write,  under  the  apt  title  of  ‘ My  Egotistography,’  a too  brief, 
but  most  lively,  humorous,  and  thoroughly  frank  sketch  of  what  he  regarded 
as  most  likely  to  interest  them  in  his  fortunes  and  doings.  His  manu- 
script, with  a few  modest  additions  by  one  of  his  daughters,  has  been  put 
into  print.  It  is  not  published  ; we  wish  it  were,  for  it  has  a most  relish- 
ing flavor  for  appreciative  readers,  and  carries  with  it  an  admirable  moral. 
We  have  had  the  privilege  of  reading  a borrowed  copy,  and  have  vastly 
enjoyed  the  perusal.  The  straits  and  buffetings  of  boyhood,  met  and 


Early  Poi  trait  Painters. 


65 


turned  to  account  by  real  Yankee  pluck  ; the  shifts  and  schemes  for  get- 
ting a living  ; the  wanderings  and  struggles  of  a premature  manhood,  and, 
as  it  would  seem,  the  almost  blundering  upon  the  destined  career  for  his 
genius,  are  related  with  a quaint  directness  and  candor.  His  journals  and 
letters  during  his  two  visits  abroad,  showing  the  Yankee  backwoods-boy 
as  the  diner-out  with  nobles,  the  inmate  of  the  castles  of  the  great,  and 
the  painter  of  the  Dukes  of  Sussex  and  Hamilton,  are  models  of  that  kind 
of  writing,  and  incidentally  afford  illustrations  of  his  own  noble  and  engag- 
ing character.” 

Gilbert  Stuart  Newton  painted  many  American  portraits  in  London. 
Ilis  parents  left  Boston  for  Halifax,  N.  S.,  when  that  city  was  evacuated  by 
the  British  ; and  he  was  born  in  the  latter  place,  September  2,  1795  ; but 
brought  back  to  Boston  after  his  father’s  death,  in  1803,  and  resided  in 
Charlestown  until  his  uncle,  Gilbert  Stuart,  was  established  in  Boston, 
when  his  nephew  became  his  pupil  ; later  in  life  they  seem  to  have  been 
alienated.  Newton  paid  a brief  visit  to  Italy,  and  then  joined  Leslie  in 
Paris  ; they  went  together  to  London  in  1817.  He  began  as  an  artist  with 
great  promise,  had  a good  eye  for  color,  doubtless,  in  part,  owing  to  his 
early  familiarity  with  Stuart’s  style  ; he  also  had  genius,  humor,  and 
pathos  ; his  “ Dull  Lecture,”  formerly  belonging  to  Philip  Hone,  is  a good 
illustration  of  the  former  quality, — “The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  restoring 
Olivia,”  of  the  latter.  Leslie’s  companionship  was  a great  advantage  to 
him  ; he  inclined  to  and  excelled  in  scenes  from  Gil  Bias  and  Moliere.  He 
was  not  a devoted  student ; and  the  labor  required  for  effective  genre 
pictures  was  distasteful  to  him,  although  he  will  be  remembered  by  a few 
choice  efforts  of  this  kind.  He  therefore  took  to  portraiture  ; one  of  his 
best  cabinet  likenesses  is  that  of  Washington  Irving,  who  said  to  him,  on 
seeing  him  at  work  on  the  picture  of  “ The  Poet  reading  his  Verses  to  the 
impatient  Gallant,”  “ Now  you  are  on  the  right  road  !”  For  several  years, 
a mental  disorder  blighted  and  isolated  the  life  of  Newton,  the  best  idea 
of  whose  character,  tastes,  and  career,  can  be  gathered  from  his  friend 
Leslie’s  autobiography.  There  is  a portrait  of  John  Adams,  by  him,  in  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society.  Stuart  Newton  was  more  of  a man  of 
society  than  any  of  our  artists  ; his  social  intercourse  with  leading  people 
in  England,  with  the  fastidiousness  of  his  artistic  habits,  and  the  state  of 
his  health,  limited  his  work. 

Contemporary  with  Harding  were  several  portrait  painters  who  attained 
a local  and  sometimes  an  extensive  popularity,  and  some  of  their  works  are 
valuable  exemplars  of  this  department  of  Art.  John  Neagle,  the  son-in- 
law  of  Sully,  was  born  in  Boston,  while  his  parents,  who  were  Philadel- 
phians, were  on  a visit  to  that  city,  November  4,  1799.  His  father  was 
ot  Irish  descent,  and  his  mother  a native  of  New  Jersey.  His  first  im- 
pulse toward,  or,  at  least,  praclice  of,  Art,  seems  to  have  been  awakened  by 
his  schoolfellow,  Petticolas,  subsequently  a miniature  painter  at  Richmond, 
Va.,  and  whose  original  small  likeness  of  Washington  is  in  the  collection 
of  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  of  New  York.  He  had  a quarter’s  instruction  in 

5 


66 


American  Artist  Life. 


drawing  from  Pietro  Amora ; and  probably  from  his  enjoyment  of  vivid 
colors,  like  several  embryo  painters  mentioned  in  this  work,  when  obliged 
to  become  a tradesman’s  apprentice,  selected  coach-painting  as  an 
employment.  His  master  studied  with  a limner,  with  a view  to  the 
ornamental  part  of  his  business,  and  young  Neagle  was  frequently  em- 
ployed to  carry  palette,  colors,  and  brushes,  from  fadlory  to  atelier  ; in  this 
way,  he  soon  grew  familiar  with  the  processes  and  materials  of  Art,  and 
encouraged  by  Wilson,  Peale  and  Sully,  in  1818,  began  practice  in  Phila- 
delphia. Thence  he  went  to  Lexington,  Ky.,  and  experienced  much  priva- 
tion and  discouragement,  until  the  fortunate  accidental  sitter  appeared  ; and 
his  fame,  after  a successful  sojourn  at  New  Orleans,  grew  rapidly,  until 
we  find  him  married,  and  busy  in  his  old  home,  in  1820.  Six  years  after, 
the  full-length,  stalwart  and  vigorous  figure  of  Patrick  Lyon,  the  black- 
smith, at  his  forge,  gained  Kim  wide  reputation.  Dunlap  gives  an  animated 
description  of  the  circumstances  attending  this  production  and  the  original 
character  it  represents.  This  picture  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Boston 
Athenaeum.  His  portrait  of  Mrs.  Wood  as  Amina,  in  Bellini’s  opera  of 
La  Sonnambula,  is  in  the  Philadelphia  Academy,  as  is  that  of  Matthew 
Carey  ; his  portrait  of  Henry  Clay  belongs  to  the  Union  League  Club  of 
that  city.  His  portrait  of  Washington  hangs  in  Independence  Hall,  over 
the  doorway.  The  frame  which  encloses  this  picture  was  made  in  the 
great  procession  which  passed  along  the  streets  of  Philadelphia  on  the 
centennial  celebration  of  Washington’s  birthday,  February,  22,  1832. 
Neagle  was  a great  admirer  of  Stuart,  and  some  of  his  portraits  have  a 
strength  and  vividness  akin  to  that  master.  Among  his  subjects  are  Dr. 
Chapman,  Commodore  Barron,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Palmer.  Some  years  before 
his  death  he  became  paralyzed,  and  left  an  unfinished  portrait  of  Judge 
Stroud,  undertaken  after  his  attack.  In  his  prime  he  was  a remarkably 
genial  companion,  and  devoted  to  aClive  life.  For  eight  years  he  was 
president  of  the  Artists’  Fund  Society  of  Philadelphia. 

Samuel  Waldo  was  a native  of  Windham,  in  Connecticut ; he  died 
after  fifty-three  years’  devotion  to  his  profession,  in  New  York,  Feb- 
ruary 16,  1861,  at  the  age  of  78.  Fie  studied  portrait  painting  with 
an  indifferent  artist  at  Hartford ; with  fifteen  dollars  received  from  a 
British  commodore  for  his  portrait,  he  commenced  business,  and  the 
hospitable  encouragement  of  a gentleman  at  Litchfield  started  him  on 
a prosperous  career  in  his  native  State  ; befriended  at  Charleston, 
S.  C.,  by  Mr.  Rutledge,  he  had  ample  occupation  there,  and  was  enabled 
to  embark  for  London  in  1806,  where  he  was  kindly  received  by  West, 
Copley,  and  Fulton,  and  painted  many  likenesses  at  five  guineas 
each.  On  his  return  to  America,  he  landed  in  New  York  in  January, 
1809,  with  two  guineas  in  his  pocket,  but  soon  made  friends  by  his 
integrity  and  courteous  manners,  and  was  adequately  employed.  Among 
his  portraits  are  those  of  Mayors  Willet,  Radcliffe,  and  Allen,  and  Gen. 
McComb,  in  the  City  Hall,  N.  Y.,  and  of  Peter  Remsen,  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  N.  Y.  Historical  Society.  Many  of  Waldo’s  portraits,  that  re- 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


67 


mained  in  his  studio,  were  sold  within  two  years,  at  auCtio^i ; and  some  of 
them  are  now  encountered  at  bookstalls  and  curiosity-shops.  S.  P. 
Avery  bought,  at  the  sale,  a charming  female  head,  superior  in 
color;  and  among  the  portraits  thus  disposed  of,  were  those  of  Jeffer- 
son Davis  and  ex-Mayor  Harper.  He  is  remembered  now  as  the  part- 
ner of  William  Jewett,  who  was  born  in  East  Haddam,  Ct.,  February  14, 
1795,  and  worked  on  a farm  until  he  was  apprenticed  to  a coachmaker  in 
New  London.  Having  an  “eye  for  colors,”  he  managed  to  evade  his  in- 
dentures, and  made  his  way  to  New  York  in  a coasting  vessel.  Having 
been  employed  by  Waldo  to  grind  paints,  that  gentleman  now  received  him 
into  his  family ; and  when  he  had  studied  three  years,  he  assisted  his  bene- 
factor, and  eventually  became  the  sharer  of  his  work  and  profits  ; so  that  the 
portraits  of  Waldo  and  Jewett  were  joint  productions,  it  being  a puzzle  to 
the  uninitiated  to  assign  to  either  painter  his  share  of  a portrait.  Some  of 
the  male  heads  from  this  double  hand  are  very  good ; the  likenesses 
were  often  successful,  and  for  many  years  the  artists  were  fully  occupied 
in  New  York.  Meantime,  in  Boston,  Francis  Alexander  was  a favorite 
portrait  painter.  Born  in  Windham  county,  Ct.,  in  February,  1800,  his 
first  earnings  were  forty  dollars  for  schoolkeeping,  at  the  age  of  eighteen ; 
when  off  duty,  on  account  of  a slight  indisposition,  he  was  struck  with  the 
beautiful  colors  of  some  fish  he  had  caught,  and  attempted  to  reproduce 
them  in  water-color.  This  “ study  from  nature  ” revealed  his  artistic  pro- 
clivities ; and,  encouraged  by  his  mother,  he  continued  to  experiment  with 
pencil  and  brush  until,  as  he  naively  said,  his  fame  “spread  half  a mile.” 
Not  without  much  opposition  and  despite  scanty  means,  he  went  to  New 
York,  and  studied  with  Alexander  Robertson,  a Scotch  artist.  Colonel 
Trumbull  lent  him  the  heads  to  copy  ; he  received  a commission  to  paint 
a family  at  Providence,  R.  I.,  and  going  thence  to  Boston,  soon  became  a 
favorite  portrait  painter.  In  1833,  in  conjunction  with  Harding,  Fisher, 
and  Doughty,  he  exhibited  many  of  his  pictures  in  Boston,  having  two 
years  before  visited  Italy,  where  he  has  resided  for  many  years  past.  With 
less  strength  but  more  refinement  than  Harding,  Alvan  Fisher  had  a 
pleasant  career  in  Boston  and  its  vicinity.  He  was  a native  of  Needham, 
Norfolk  county,  Ct.,  and  studied  with  Penniman,  an  ornamental  painter  ; 
the  mechanical  aptitude  there  acquired  was  long  a hindrance  to  the  future 
artist ; as  such  he  commenced  praCtice  in  1824,  at  first  as  a landscape  and 
afterwards  as  a portrait  painter,  visiting.  Europe  in  1825,  and  studying 
chiefly  in  Paris.  He  produced  many  satisfactory  and  graceful  likenesses  ; 
that  of  the  lamented  Spurzheim,  taken  partly  from  recolleCtion,  immedi- 
ately after  his  death  in  Boston,  was  highly  valued.  He  died  at  his  resi- 
dence, at  Dedham,  Mass.,  February  14,  1863. 

In  the  early  chapters  of  Leslie’s  delightful  Recollections , lately  published, 
frequent  mention  is  made  of  a brother  artist  and  countryman,  Charles  B. 
King,  who,  with  Moore  and  Allston,  lived  in  London  under  the  same  roof 
with  the  young  painter.  This  estimable  man  was  a native  of  Newport, 


68 


American  Artist  Life. 


and  passed  his  summers  there  and  his  winters  in  Washington.  Few  liv- 
ing American  artists,  looked  back  upon  the  dawn  of  Art  in  America,  and 
recall  so  many  of  her  earliest  votaries.  Mr.  King  showed  his  love  for  his 
native  town  by  the  donation  of  a sum  to  the  public  school  fund,  the  interest 
of  which  is  devoted  to  musical  instruction,  and  by  the  gift  of  numerous 
paintings  and  several  thousand  dollars  to  the  Redwood  Library.  During 
a period  of  forty  years  his  studio  at  the  Capital  was  filled  with  the  portraits 
of  the  political  and  other  celebrities  of  the  day, — not  remarkable  for  artistic 
superiority,  but  often  curious  and  valuable  as  likenesses,  especially  the  In- 
dian portraits.  His  industry  and  simple  habits  enabled  him  to  acquire  a 
handsome  competence,  and  his  amiable  and  exemplary  character  won  him 
many  friends.  He  died  at  Washington,  District  of  Columbia,  March  18, 
1862,  at  the  age  of  seventy-six. 

Ezra  Ames,  a coach-painter  of  Albany,  turned  his  attention  to  portrait- 
ure, and  gained  distinction  in  1812  by  exhibiting  his  likeness  of  Governor 
George  Clinton  at  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  ; during  several  years  he 
executed  portraits  of  the  western  members  of  the  legislature,  and  these, 
with  other  specimens  of  his  imitative  skill,  are  widely  scattered  in  New 
York  State,  many  being  in  Albany,  where  his  son  has  long  followed  the 
vocation  of  a miniature  painter.  In  the  Capitol  are  his  portraits  of  Gov- 
ernor Clinton  and  Herman  Bleecker,  and  his  copy  of  Washington  is  in  the 
State  Library.  William  Wilson,  an  Englishman,  painted  portraits  about 
1 840-5  with  a felicitous  coloring  ; his  heads  of  Porter,  the  editor,  and  of  Rich- 
ards, the  proprietor,  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Times , and  others,  were  much 
esteemed.  John  T.  Peale  executed  some  portraits  of  decided  merit.  C. 
E.  Weir,  brother  of  the  professor,  painted  many  truthful  cabinet  heads, 
and  a careful  and  minute  composition  portrait  by  him  was  noted  at  one  of 
the  early  Art-Union  exhibitions.  De  Veaux,  of  South  Carolina,  made 
creditable  portraits. 

Matthew  Jouet,  a humorous,  tasteful  man,  was  the  best  portrait  painter, 
for  many  years,  “west  of  the  mountains”;  he  was  a native  of  Fayette 
county,  Kentucky,  and  educated  for  the  bar ; he  was  a favorite  pupil  of 
Stuart’s,  in  Boston,  in  1817  ; and  practised  his  art  successfully  in  his  native 
State,  at  New  Orleans,  Natchez,  and  other  places  in  the  southwest;  and 
died  at  the  age  of  forty-three,  at  Lexington,  Kentucky,  in  1826.  Edward 
Petticolas  was  a pupil  of  Sully,  and  his  father  taught  the  latter’s  wife  music, 
by  way  of  ecjui valent.  The  family  settled  in  Richmond  in  1805.  Petti- 
colas visited  Europe  three  times,  and  was  considered  an  accomplished 
portrait  painter  when  at  last  established  in  Richmond.  “His  style  was 
chaste,  his  coloring  clear,  but  his  manner  somewhat  timid.”  An  original 
miniature  of  Washington  by  him  is  in  the  gallery  of  S.  Taylor  Johnston, 
of  New  York. 

Many  American  and  several  foreign  artists  of  this  period,  and  before 
and  subsequently,  have  executed  portraits  more  or  less  creditable,  in 
oil  portraiture,  miniature,  crayon,  composition  and  copying ; of  the  for- 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


69 


mer,  some  having  enjoyed  at  certain  times  and  places  quite  a successful 
career,  and  others  are  still  more  or  less  professionally  occupied ; but  there 
are  so  few  salient  points  or  such  limited  interest  in  their  works,  that  an 
extended  notice  would  afford  but  a repetition  of  the  average  artistic  expe- 
rience and  achievement ; although  in  several  instances  their  pictures  have 
a distinctive  value  and  merit.* 

With  the  increase  of  wealth,  population,  and  taste  for  Art,  portrait-paint- 
ing has  so  enlarged  its  bounds  and  multiplied  its  proficients  that  it  would 
be  a hopeless  task  even  to  enumerate  those  who  have  pursued  it  in  the 
United  States,  with  success,  during  the  last  twenty  years  ; several  foreign 
artists  have  reaped  a harvest  in  this  field,  and  scattered  their  “ counterfeit 
presentments  ” broadcast  over  the  republic.  Nor  have  our  own  portrait- 
painters  failed  to  win  European  commissions  and  fame.  One  of  the  last 
of  the  old  generation  of  portrait-painters  was  C.  C.  Ingham,  whose  pic- 
tures are  remarkable  for  a high  degree  of  finish,  and  an  exquisite  refine- 
ment, not  always  compatible  with  strength  and  nature,  but  often  illustra- 
tive of  the  most  tasteful  patience.  His  “ Flower  Girl,”  “ Day  Dream,” 
and  “Portrait  of  a Child”  in  the  collection  of  Jonathan  Sturgis,  Esq.,  are 
good  exemplars  of  his  style  and  manner.  The  following  account  of  this 
artist  appeared  soon  after  his  death  in  a leading  journal  of  New  York, 
and  gives  a just  view  of  his  career  and  character  : 

“He  was  born  in  Dublin  in  1796,  and  came  to  this  country  with  his 
father’s  family  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  after  having  studied  his  profession 
four  years  in  his  native  city,  and  produced  works  which  won  a premium 
from  the  Dublin  Academy,  and  gave  him  a popular  reputation  and  employ- 
ment. He  exhibited  his  ‘ Death  of  Cleopatra,’  a work  which  had  created 
a sensation  in  Europe,  in  the  Gallery  of  the  old  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  in 
Barclay  street,  at  their  first  exhibition.  It  attracted  great  attention,  and 
at  once  led  to  extensive  employment.  From  that  day  to  his  last  illness, 
he  continued  with  wonderful  industry  to  work  at  his  easel,  rarely  losing  a 
day,  or  even  an  hour  of  sunlight.  He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  pres- 
ent National  Academy  of  Design,  having,  at  the  time  of  the  revolution  in 
the  old  Academy,  arrayed  himself  in  the  ranks  of  the  malcontents.  Of 
the  original  members  of  the  National  Academy  he  was  the  last  survivor 
but  three — Cummings,  Durand,  and  Morse.  He  was  for  many  years  the 
vice-president,  and  until  recently  an  aClive  and  useful  member. 

“ His  forte  was  female  portraiture  ; and  although  he  worked  slowly  and 
tired  his  sitters  with  numerous  sittings,  a vast  number  of  his  pictures  of 
the  reigning  beauties  of  other  days  adorn  the  walls  of  New  York  mansions. 
His  style  of  painting  was  peculiar,  and  from  the  excessive  patience  and 
industry  necessary  to  its  success,  was  seldom  imitated.  He  elaborated 
his  flesh  to  the  verge  of  hardness,  touching  and  retouching  his  larger  por- 
traits, until  the  picture  presented  all  the  delicacy  and  finish  of  the  finest 
miniature  on  ivory. 

* For  some  interesting  fadts,  regarding  the  painters  of  Boston  before  the  Revolution,  vide  a pam- 
phlet by  W.  H.  Whitman,  Esq.,  of  that  city. 


7 o 


A merican  A rtist  L ife. 


“ This  elaboration  was  probably  done  more  in  a feeling  for  mechanical 
finish,  than  to  realize  any  quality  which  he  saw  in  his  sitters.  But  his 
pictures  have  satisfied  public  appreciation,  and  he  has  fully  shared  the 
popularity  of  the  distinguished  American  portrait  painters  who  lived  in 
his  day.  “ He  bore  an  unimpeachable  character,  and  was  much  beloved, 
and  will  be  long  regretted  by  his  friends  and  fellow-artists.” 


COPLEY. 


ORTRAITS  appeal  to  the  love  of  order  as  well  as  of  beauty. 
They  are  useful  and  attractive  not  only  as  connected  with 
the  affections,  or  as  meritorious  works  of  art,  but  as  sym- 
bols of  departed  races  and  ages.  All  admit  the  moral  charm 
which  invests  an  ancient  estate  ; and  the  inactivity  of  the 
sentiment  of  veneration  among  us,  has  been  not  irrationally 
ascribed  to  the  comparative  absence  of  those  revered  objects  which,  from 
earliest  childhood,  habituate  the  mind  to  dwell  upon  its  relations  with  what 
has  gone  before,  and  its  consequent  responsibility  to  the  future.  That  whole- 
some conservatism  by  which  the  feelings  are  rendered  consistent  and  strong, 
from  the  influence  of  attachment  to  principles,  is  justly  regarded  as  the 
most  desirable  safeguard  against  reckless  fanaticism,  both  in  politics  and 
religion.  Human  beings  are  so  much  the  creatures  of  sympathy,  and  the 
memory  depends  so  greatly  upon  the  imagination,  that  conservative  influ- 
ences are  intimately  allied  with  material  objects.  Even  the  sear&d  con- 
science of  Lady  Macbeth  was  touched  by  the  resemblance  of  the  sleeping 
Duncan  to  her  father  ; and  when  Jeannie  Deans  visited  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
she  wore  her  country’s  plaid,  knowing  “ his  honor  would  warm  to  the  tar- 
tan.” In  this  respect  the  fine  arts  enact  an  important  part.  One  of  Haz- 
litt’s  most  suggestive  essays  is  that  on  “ A Portrait  by  Vandyke  ; ” and  we 
have  but  to  remember  the  psychological  and  historical  as  well  as  artistic 
interest  which  Titian,  Velasquez,  and  Reynolds  gave  to  this  branch  of  art, 
to  realize  its  possible  significance.  The  architecture  of  castles  and  palaces, 
the  statues  of  local  divinities,  the  designs  of  escutcheons  and  sepulchral 
monuments,  address  the  feelings  both  of  love  and  pride  which  bind  gene- 
rations of  men  together.  Still  nearer  to  the  heart  are  family  portraits.  It 
is  not  the  invention  of  romantic  fiction  which  so  often  describes  its  heroes 
as  musing  in  their  youth,  in  some  quiet  gallery,  over  the  lineaments  of  a 
noble  ancestry.  “ Look  on  this  picture,  and  on  this,”  is  an  admonition 
more  widely  suggestive  than  it  was  to  Hamlet’s  mother.  “ A portrait,” 
says  Hervey,  “is  a mournful  thing,  the  shadow  of  a joy  ; ” but  it  may  be 
impressive,  affecting,  and  invaluable,  when  brightened  by  a feeling  of  per- 
sonal devotion  or  hallowed  by  retrospective  sentiment. 

Copley’s  portraits  are  among  the  few  significant  Art-memorials  of  the  past 


American  Artist  Life . 


/2 

encountered  in  this  country  ; and,  as  they  are  characteristic  to  a high 
degree,  possess  the  interest  which  is  ever  attached  to  such  relics.  It  has 
been  said  that  the  possession  of  one  of  these  ancestral  portraits  is  an 
American's  best  title  of  nobility.  He  was  the  only  native  painter  of  real 
skill  which  the  New  World  could  boast  prior  to  the  Revolution  ; and  seems 
to  have  followed  his  art  with  signal  pride  and  assiduity.  The  heads  of 
leading  families,  especially  those  of  New  England,  sat  to  him  ; and  the 
prices  he  commanded,  and  the  fame  he  achieved,  were  quite  remarkable 
for  the  period.  At  many  an  old  family  dwelling  in  Massachusetts,  in  the 
commercial  cities  of  most  of  the  Eastern  States,  and  occasionally  at  the 
South,  are  encountered  portraits  by  Copley  ; and  not  unfrequently  our 
living  painters  are  called  upon  to  copy  them:  encrusted  as  they  often  are 
with  the  dust  of  a century ,#  when  cleaned  and  varnished,  the  features  and 
dress  come  out  with  a vividness  and  strength  indicative  of  a master’s  hand. 
Among  the  good  specimens  of  his  skill  and  style  is  the  portrait  of  the  Rev. 
John  Ogilvie,  in  Trinity  Church  Vestry,  New  York  ; Ralph  and  Mrs.  Igard 
playing  chess,  now  in  Charleston,  S.C., — painted  in  Italy  ; that  qf  General 
Brattle,  at  Boston,  in  the  uniform  of  a British  officer ; Dr.  Miles  Cooper, 
as  President  of  Columbia  College,  N.  Y.  ; Rev.  James  Cooper,  D.D.,  and 
Rev.  James  Allen,  the  poet,  belonging  to  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society  ; Judge  Jared  Ingersoll,  in  the  possession  of  Charles  Ingersoll, 
Philadelphia  ; Rev.  Mr.  Fayerweather,  of  Narragansett.  in  his  Oxford  robes  ; 
a portrait  belonging  to  William  Thomas,  Esq.,  of  Baltimore  ; Mrs.  Hoo- 
per, in  the  collection  of  James  Lenox,  of  New  York  ; a fine  likeness  of  a 
gentleman,  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  A.  Woodruff,  of  Perth  Amboy,  N.  J.  ; 
one  of  a lady  as  St.  Cecilia  playing  on  the  harp,  belonging  to  Mrs.  N.  Apple- 
ton,  Boston  ; of  Dr.  Joseph  Green,  the  property  of  Dr.  Joshua  Green,  of 
Groton,  Mass.  ; one  of  John  Adams,  belonging  to  the  City  of  Boston,  and 
another  in  Harvard  Hall,  Cambridge  ; of  Governor  and  Mrs.  Shirley,  in 
the  possession  of  Mrs.  E.  S.  Erving,  of  New  York;  of  Judge  and  Mrs. 
Langdon,  in  the  possession  of  Madame  Eustis,  of  Roxbury ; two  portraits 
of  the  Misses  Plumpstead,  of  Philadelphia  ; of  Sylvester  Gardiner,  belong- 
ing to  W.  H.  Gardener,  of  Boston  ; and  several  of  the  Hancock  family,  in 
the  possession  of  their  descendants  ; admirable  full-lengths  sitting,  of 
Thomas  and  Nicholas  Boylston,  Thomas  Hubbard,  Thomas  Hollis,  and 
Edward  Holyoke,  an  early  President  of  the  College,  with  those  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Appleton,  in  the  possession  of  Harvard  University.  The  most  ela- 
borate work  of  Copley’s  in  Boston,  in  the  way  of  family  portraiture,  is  a 
full  length  of  General  Vassal  in  uniform,  standing  beside  his  horse  and 
taking  leave  of  his  two  daughters,  Mrs.  Fitch  and  Miss  Vassall,  before 
mounting.  This  picture,  while  in  execution  it  is  an  excellent  illustration 
of  the  artist’s  style,  is  curious  for  the  example  it  preserves  of  the  costumes 
and  manners  of  the  day.  It  originally  belonged  to  the  Lloyd,  and  is  now 
owned  by  the  Borland  family.  Hon.  G.  C.  Verplanck,  of  Fishkill,  N.  Y., 
has  a portrait  of  his  father,  when  a child,  playing  with  a squirrel ; Mrs. 
Burnap,  of  Baltimore,  Mel,  two  pastel  portraits  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Turner; 


Copley. 


73 


and  a remarkable  portrait  of  a lady,  her  hair  flying  loose,  belongs  to  the 
Rogers  family,  of  Boston,  Mass.  ; and  excellent  specimens  to  the  Tracy 
family,  of  Newburyport,  Mass.  At  a family  mansion  at  Haverhill,  Mass., 
there  is  a fine  portrait  by  this  artist,  of  Judge  Saltonstall,  who  was  born 
in  1703,  and  died  in  1756,  having  always  resided  at  this  old  homestead,  on 
the  Merrimack,  just  below  the  town.  In  the  possession  of  the  Dixwell 
family,  of  Boston,  and  of  the  Derby  family,  of  Salem,  there  are  several 
good  exemplars  of  Copley’s  portraiture,  the  latter  being  likenesses  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Fitch,  of  Boston  ; another  belongs  to  Dudley  Hall,  of  Medford. 
Thomas  W.  Ludlow,  of  New  York,  has  excellent  portraits  of  his  grand- 
parents, from  the  same  assiduous  pencil ; and  those  of  Benjamin  and  Mary 
Pickman,  dated  1762,  are  in  the  possession  of  their  great-grandson,  Dr. 
Loring,  of  Salem.  Four  miniatures  on  copper, — likenesses  of  Hon.  Andrew 
Oliver,  and  his  daughter  and  sons, — by  Copley,  belong  to  Fitch  Ed.  Oliver, 
Esq.,  of  Boston.  Two  full-length  portraits  of  the  Cranston  family  are  in 
the  possession  of  Dr.  S.  L.  Miller,  of  Providence,  R.  I.,  and  a three-quarter 
length  belongs  to  the  Bowler  family,  of  the  same  city. 

An  engraving,  dated  1753,  made  by  Copley  when  he  was  fifteen,  indi- 
cates that  he  practised  with  his  stepfather,  Pelham,  who  engraved  two  or 
three  plates  from  Smidert’s  pictures.  Of  his  miniatures  two  good  exem- 
plars are  the  likenesses  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Samuel  Cary,  now  in  the  posses- 
sion of  one  of  their  descendants.  Among  the  Hancock  portraits  are  sev- 
eral pastels,  life-size  heads,  quiet  in  color  and  in  an  obsolete  style,  but 
remarkably  fresh  and  clear.  A picture  in  Boston — a portrait  of  himself  as 
a boy,  and  apparently  from  his  own  hand — represents  a lad  of  about  eigh- 
teen, with  a broken  straw  hat  on  ; — probably  one  of  his  earliest  efforts.  Fie 
painted  the  Greens,  Hubbards,  Broomfields,  Inches,  Pepperells,  Sargents, 
Murrays,  and  others  of  his  native  city  and  its  neighborhood ; and  these 
families  possess  memorable  specimens  of  his  art.  Therp  is  a portrait  of 
himself,  undoubtedly  from  his  own  pencil,  in  the  Bryan  collection  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society. 

The  want  of  early  advantages  appears  chiefly  in  Copley’s  coloring.  It 
is  probable  that  an  earlier  acquaintance  with  Titian  would  have  felicitously 
influenced  his  habits  in  this  regard.  Lord  Lyndhurst,  the  son  of  the  artist, 
declared  that  his  father  never  saw  a good  picture  until  he  was  thirty  years 
of  age.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  his  knowledge  was  acquired  under  con- 
siderable discouragement,  and  that  the  excellence  of  his  drawing  was  the 
result  of  persevering  study.  It  is  said  that  the  first  picture  which  he  sent 
to  England,  juvenile  effort  as  it  was,  exceeded  all  subsequent  attempts  in 
point  of  transparency  and  richness  of  hue.  The  dryness  of  tone  and  for- 
mality of  manner  in  his  pictures  is,  in  a great  degree,  attributable  to  the 
unpropitious  influences  under  which  he  acquired  the  rudiments  of  his 
art. 

It  is  an  interesting  coincidence  that  West  and  Copley,  unknown  to  each 
other,  were  studying  the  rudiments  of  their  art,  the  one  in  Pennsylvania, 
and  the  other  in  Massachusetts,  under  many  disadvantages  ; yet  both  des- 


74 


American  Artist  Life. 


tined  to  achieve  success,  in  an  eminent  degree,  both  in  England  and  Amer- 
ica. At  the  age  of  thirty  Copley  was  favorably  known  on  each  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  and  in  1778  had  set  up  his  easel  in  George  St.,  Hanover  Square, 
London,  and  wrote  West  he  had  more  orders  than  he  could  execute.  Nor 
was  he  unremembered  at  home.  “ I trust,”  writes  John  Scollay,  from 
Boston,  in  1782,  “that  you  do  not  forget  your  dear  native  country,  and  the 
cause  she  is  engaged  in.”  And  the  venerable  Mather  Byles  assures  him  : 
“ I delight  in  being  ranked  among  your  earliest  friends  ; ” while  Washing- 
ton, in  acknowledging  the  artist’s  gift  of  an  engraving  of  his  “ Death  of 
Chatham,”  adds  : “ This  work,  highly  valuable  as  it  is  in  itself,  is  rendered 
more  estimable  in  my  eyes,  when  I remember  that  America  gave  birth  to 
the  celebrated  artist  who  produced  it.” 

John  Singleton  Copley  was  seventeen  years  old  when  he  fairly  embarked 
in  the  profession  of  a painter.  Few  artists  more  intuitively  seize  their 
vocation,  and  at  once  manifest  so  decided  an  ability  therefor,  without  ad- 
ventitious aid  ; for,  unassisted  by  teachers,  he  gave  evidence  of  remarkable 
practical  aptitude.  He  was  born  in  Boston,  Massachusetts,  on  the  3d  of 
July,  1737,  and  died  in  London  on  the  25th  of  September,  1815.  His  native 
city,  within  a few  3'ears,  added  to  its  artistic  trophies  one  of  his  most  char- 
acteristic pictures, — that  which  represents  Charles  the  First  demanding  the 
five  impeached  members  of  the  House  of  Commons*  The  original  is 
of  cabinet  size,  and  the  figures  admirably  delineated,  true  as  to  individual 
portraits,  and  authentic  in  all  the  details  of  costume  and  surroundings  ; the 
drawing  is  correCt,  the  coloring  brilliant,  and  the  composition  masterly.  In 
1774  Copley  visited  Italy,  and  studied  his  art  there  for  two  years,  giving 
special  attention  to  the  works  of  Titian  and  Correggio,  with  the  most  obvi- 
ous advantage  as  to  skill  in  and  feeling  for  color.  In  1776  he  went  to  Lon- 
don, soon  joined  by  his  wife  and  children  from  Boston  ; obliged  to  remain 
by  the  impediments  to  transatlantic  voyagers  occasioned  by  the  American 
Revolution,  he  achieved  a vigorous  and  prosperous  career,  received  a large 
income  as  a portrait  painter,  and  was  soon  eleCted  a member  of  the  Royal 
Academy.  His  large  picture  of  the  Siege  and  Relief  of  Gibraltar,  so 
prominent  an  ornament  of  the  Guildhall,  was  executed  in  1790.  Many  of 
his  works  have  been  engraved  ; one  of  the  most  celebrated,  the  Death  of 
Chatham,  by  Bartalozzi,  copies  of  which  he  sent  to  Washington  and  John 
Adams  ; and  his  best  obtainable  works  were  collected  by  his  son  Lord 
Lyndhurst.  An  anecdote  significant  of  the  historical  associations  of 
Copley’s  times  and  position,  is  recorded  by  an  American  who  sat  to  him 
for  a portrait  in  1782  ; die  picture  was  completed  with  the  exception  of  the 
background  ; the  sitter  dined  with  the  painter  on  the  5th  of  December, 
when  the  news  reached  them  of  the  acknowledgment  of  American  Inde- 
pendence : Copley  immediately  introduced  a ship  in  the  distance,  “and,” 
writes  his  grateful  guest,  “ with  a bold  hand,  a master’s  touch,  and  I be- 
lieve, an  American  heart,  attached  to  the  ship  the  Stars  and  Stripes  ; this 
was,  I imagine,  the  first  American  flag  hoisted  in  old  England.”f 


* In  the  City  Library. 


t Watson' s Men  and  Times  of  the  Revolution. 


Copley. 


75 


Copley  married,  in  1769,  Miss  Clarke,  daughter  of  a Boston  merchant. 
When  his  wife  and  children  joined  him  in  London,  they  left  Massachusetts 
from  Marblehead  harbor  on  the  27th  of  May,  1775,  in  the  Minerva,  Captain 
Callahan,  arriving  at  Dover  on  the  24th  of  the  subsequent  June,  the  vessel 
being  the  last  that  left  New  England  bearing  the  British  flag.  Copley,  a 
few  months  before  his  marriage  in  1769,  purchased  the  estate  in  Beacon 
street,  lying  west  of  Walnut  street.  Here  it  is  presumed  Lord  Lyndhurst 
and  his  sisters  were  born. 

Copley’s  mother  married,  for  her  second  husband,  Mr.  Pelham,  a school- 
master ; she  was  long  a favorite  tobacconist  in  Boston.  The  following  notice 
of  her  death  appears  in  the  Gazette  of  that  city  of  May  4,  1789  : “Died, 
on  Wednesday  last,  Mrs.  Mary  Pelham,  widow  of  Mr.  Peter  Pelham,  late 
of  this  town,  and  mother  of  Mr.  Copley.  Her  funeral  will  be  attended  this 
afternoon,  at  four  o’clock,  from  her  dwelling  house,  at  New  Boston,  when 
and  where  her,  Mr.  Copley’s,  and  the  family’s  friends  and  acquaintances 
are  requested  to  grace  the  procession.” 

From  the  hint  Trumbull  gives  us  of  his  style  of  living,  as  well  as  from 
the  characteristics  of  his  paintings,  his  taste  inclined  to  magnificence.  For 
his  “ Death  of  Chatham  ” he  refused  fifteen  hundred  pounds  ; and  even 
in  America,  where  he  began  his  career  as  early  as  1760,  his  annual  income, 
according  to  his  own  statement,  was  three  hundred  guineas,*  which,  he 
remarks  in  one  of  his  letters,  is  equal  to  nine  hundred  in  London. 
Methodical  and  industrious  to  the  last,  what  remains  to  us  of  his  labors 
evidences  that  his  talent  was  essentially  for  portraiture,  the  more  ambitious 
efforts  being  only  a collection  of  likenesses. 

He  had  the  good  sense  to  postpone  visiting  England  until  the  com- 
mencement of  hostilities,  and  reaped  a liberal  harvest  from  his  industry  at 
home.  The  fruits  of  his  early  toil  are  now  to  be  found  on  the  walls  of  sev- 
eral public  institutions,  in  venerable  country  houses,  and  the  more  aristo- 
cratic dwellings  of  our  cities.  Associated  as  they  chiefly  are  with  the 
Colonial  or  Revolutionary  period  of  our  history,  there  lingers  around  them 
the  charm  of  a bygone  era,  which  endears  even  their  palpable  defe6ts.  The 
want  of  ease  and  nature  in  these  time-hallowed  portraits,  is,  indeed,  as 
authentic  as  their  costume.  They  are  generally  dignified,  elaborate,  and 
more  or  less  ostentatious  and  somewhat  mechanical,  but  we  recognize  in 
these  very  traits  the  best  evidence  of  their  correctness.  They  illustrate  the 

* One  of  his  bills,  which  came  to  light  a few  years  ago,  is  of  historical  interest  : 

The  Hon’ble  John  Hancock,  Esqr. 

Boston,  1765.  To  Jno.  S.  Copley,  Dr. 


To  painting  one  portrait  of  himself,  at  8 guineas nl.  4 

To  one  portrait  in  miniature,  5 guineas 7 o 

1767.  To  cleaning  and  varnishing  seven  pictures,  at  8 2 10 

1766.  To  a portrait  of  Mr.  Henchman,  £ cloth 9 16 

1770.  To  one  portrait  of  himself 9 16 

To  do.  of  Dodtr.  Sewall,  at  4 guineas 5 12 

Boston,  Sept.  18,  1771.  Reed,  the  contents  in  full,  for  Mr.  Copley  46/.  4 


pr.  Henry  Pelham. 


American  Artist  Life. 


76 

men  and  women  of  a day  when  pride,  decorum,  and  an  elegance,  sometimes 
ungraceful  but  always  impressive,  marked  the  dress  and  air  of  the  higher 
classes.  The  faces  are  rarely  insipid,  and  the  hands  almost  invariably  fair 
and  delicately  moulded.  It  appears  to  have  been  a favorite  mode  either 
with  the  artist  or  his  sitters,  to  introduce  writing  materials,  and  to  seleCt 
attitudes  denoting  a kind  of  meditative  leisure.  The  otium  cum  dignitate 
is  the  usual  phase.  A rich  brocade  dressing-gown  and  velvet  skullcap— a 
high-backed  and  daintily  carved  chair,  or  showy  curtain  in  the  background, 
are  frequently  introduced.  “ Sir  and  Madam  ” are  the  epithets  which  in- 
stinctively rise  to  our  lips  in  apostrophizing  these  “ counterfeit  present- 
ments.” There  is  that  about  them  which  precludes  the  very  idea  of  tak- 
ing a liberty.  They  look  like  incarnations  of  self-respeCt — people  born  to 
command — men  whose  families  were  regulated  with  the  reserve  of  state 
policy,  and  women  who  were  models  of  virtue  and  propriety.  In  reading 
of  John  Hancock,  or  Mrs.  Boylston,  we  think  of  them  as  painted  by 
Copley.  Large  ruffles,  heavy  silks,  silver  buckles,  gold-embroidered 
vests,  and  powdered  wigs,  are  blent  in  our  imaginations  with  the  memory 
of  patriotic  zeal  and  matronly  influence.  The  hardness  of  the  outlines, 
and  the  semi-official  aspeCt  of  the  figures,  correspond  exaCtly  with  the 
spirit  of  those  times.  Like  all  genuine  portrait  painters,  Copley  uncon- 
sciously embodied  the  peculiarities  of  his  age.  Pride  of  birth  had  not  then 
been  superseded  by  pride  of  wealth.  The  distinction  of  gentle  blood  was 
cherished.  Equality  had  only  begun  to  assert  itself  as  a political  axiom  ; as 
a social  principle  it  had  not  dawned  upon  the  most  ultra  reformers.  The 
patrician  element  still  carried  honorable  sway  in  the  New  World,  and  ere 
its  external  signs  were  lost  in  republican  sameness  of  bearing  and  costume, 
the  pencil  of  Copley  snatched  them  from  oblivion,  by  a faithful  transfer  to 
canvas. 

The  sympathies  of  the  painter  were  modified  by  the  circumstances  of 
his  life.  Of  good  lineage,  and  on  intimate  terms  with  the  wealthy  mer- 
chants of  Boston  and  the  learned  professors  of  Cambridge,  isolated  in 
his  vocation,  aristocratic  in  his  manners,  and  almost  constantly  occupied, 
he  shared  not  the  vagrant  habits  and  undisciplined  enthusiasm  of  artists 
of  a later  day.  He  was  eminently  respeCtable  ; and  his  character  was 
based  upon  English  pride  and  intelligence.  There  was  no  overflowing 
geniality  in  his  style.  He  seems  never  to  have  come  into  any  vivid  rela- 
tion with  nature  ; but  painted  with  studious  regard  to  established  rules 
and  conventional  propriety.  While  quite  a youth,  he  sent  a picture  enti- 
tled “ The  Boy  and  Squirrel”  to  the  Royal  Academy.  Its  merit  was  at 
once  acknowledged  ; and  there  being  no  name  annexed,  its  American  ori- 
gin was  inferred  from  the  quality  of  the  wood  of  which  the  frame  was 
made,  as  well  as  from  the  species  of  squirrel  delineated.  He  regularly 
exhibited  for  several  years  afterwards,  so  that,  on  arriving  in  England,  his 
reputation  for  portraiture  was  already  established. 

Within  a comparatively  recent  period,  an  early  repetition  of  this  picture 
found  its  way  back  to  the  artist’s  native  city,  one  of  whose  journals  thus 


77 


comments  upon  the  work  : — “ After  an  absence  of  more  than  ninety  years, 
Copley’s  picture  of  ‘ The  Boy  and  the  Tame  Squirrel  ’ is  again  here.  It 
is  beautiful  as  a portrait,  life-like  and  yet  local,  of  young  Pelham,  half- 
brother  of  the  painter.  The  boy  is  contemplating,  with  intent  gaze,  the 
squirrel,  fastened  to  a chain,  on  the  table  before  him.  The  handsome, 
graceful  form,  in  the  dress  of  the  last  century,  so  much  more  picturesque 
than  that  of  the  present  day,  and  the  various  accessories,  are  treated  with 
a happy  blending  of  the  familiar  and  the  imaginative  which  belong  to  the 
highest  order  of  portraiture.  The  most  careless  observer  cannot  refrain 
from  musing  upon  what  might  have  been  the  future  of  the  boy,  and  won- 
dering what  direction,  in  after  years,  the  fixed  and  earnest  look,  now 
riveted  on  the  agile  creature,  would  take.  How  gladly  would  he  follow 
him  down  the  stream  of  life,  until  it,  rough  or  smooth,  is  lost  in  the  ocean 
of  eternity.  Strange  to  say,  save  the  name,  all  we  know  of  those  breath- 
ing features  is  told  on  the  canvas  before  us  ; that  is  now  the  reality — the 
life  itself,  but  the  shadow.  Some  pictures  have  a ‘history  stranger  than 
fiCtion’ — first  in  the  scenes  and  character  they  portray,  and  again  in  the 
various  vicissitudes  of  place  and  ownership  they  undergo  ; others  are 
shrouded  in  a strange  mystery — a haunting  face,  perchance,  with  naught  to 
solve  the  riddle  of  its  existence.  But  though  we  know  so  little  of  the 
original  of  this  portrait,  its  excellence  as  a work  of  art  established  Mr. 
Copley’s  European  reputation  nearly  a century  ago,  and  confirmed  it  at 
the  late  International  Exhibition  in  England  in  1862.  It  was  sent  to 
Mr.  West,  from  Boston,  and  as  it  was  received  without  the  name  or  the 
address  of  the  painter,  some  difficulty  was  made  about  its  admission  at 
Somerset  House.  The  beauty  of  the  execution,  however,  overcame  all 
opposition,  and  insured  it  a favorable  position,  and  also  excited  great  in- 
terest in  the  unknown  artist.  In  faCt,  it  moulded  the  whole  future  career 
of  Mr.  Copley,  who  was  induced,  by  the  representations  of  his  admirers, 
to  remove  with  his  family  to  England,  where  he  became,  first,  associate, 
and  afterwards,  by  royal  sanction,  member  of  the  Academy.” 

Cunningham  says  that  Copley  was  so  much  obliged  to  Malone  for  his- 
torical subjects,  that  he  made  a public  acknowledgment  of  it  ; and  that  no 
artist  “ was  ever  more  ready  to  celebrate  passing  events.”  From  an  amus- 
ing description  of  a provoking  and  eccentric  fellow-traveller  in  Italy,  in 
one  of  his  letters,  we  infer  that  he  was  not  deficient  in  humor.  It  was  one 
of  his  peculiar  fancies  to  introduce  squirrels  into  his  pictures,  and  he  is 
said  to  have  been  intimately  acquainted  with  the  natural  history  of  this 
animal,  and  made  pets  of  several  of  the  species.  He  was  an  excellent 
kinsman.  Considering  his  Irish  descent  and  his  artistic  propensities,  he 
was  prudent  and  systematic  to  a remarkable  degree  ; and  the  minute 
finish  of  the  accessories  and  fabrics  in  his  portraits  suggests  great  patience 
and  industry.  He  was  an  experimentalist  in  color,  which  accounts  for  the 
striking  difference  of  merit  in  this  respeCfc  his  pictures  exhibit.  Cunning- 
ham thinks  his  earliest  tints  the  best.  He  cultivated  a love  of  literature, 
and  was  partial  to  History  and  Epic  poetry,  Milton  being  his  favorite  ; he 


;3 


American  Artist  Life. 


was  more  of  a pedestrian  than  a rider  ; in  temper,  contemporary  evidence 
indicates  an  extreme  of  mood,  from  the  peremptory  to  the  amiable  ; and 
as  an  artist,  like  West,  he  was  regarded  as  deficient  in  glow,  and  more  in- 
clined to  the  stately  than  the  tender  or  impassioned. 

Copley  painted  with  great  deliberation.  He  had  sixteen  sittings,  of  six 
hours  each,  when  executing  the  likeness  of  a Boston  lady,  although  only 
a head  was  delineated ; and  the  attendants  of  the  royal  children  at  Wind- 
sor complained  of  the  time  required  by  the  artist  ; but  the  result  proved 
the  wisdom  of  patience,  the  picture  being  admirable.  West  told  Leslie 
that  Copley  was  the  most  tedious  of  all  painters,  and  that  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  matching,  with  his  palette-knife,  every  tint  of  the  face.  The  lat- 
ter artist,  who  was  a wise  judge  of  the  comparative  merits  of  different 
schools  and  painters,  said,  of  Copley  that  he  was  “ corredl  in  drawing, 
with  a fine  manner  of  composition,  and  a true  eye  for  light  and  shadow  ; but 
that  he  was  deficient  in  coloring — with  him  it  wants  brilliancy  and  trans- 
parency.'5 His  reputation  seems  to  have  been  established  by  his  famous 
picture  of  the  Death  of  Chatham,  wherein  the  orator  is  depidted  as  “ faint- 
ing in  the  House  of  Lords,  after  his  speech  in  favor  of  America,”  and 
containing  portraits  of  all  the  leading  members.  In  1790  Copley  went  to 
Hanover,  at  the  invitation  of  the  City  of  London,  to  paint  four  Hanoverian 
officers,  for  his  pibture  of  the  Siege  of  Gibraltar,  a work  highly  popular  at 
the  time,  and  still  greatly  admired,  though  it  is  defective  in  aerial  perspec- 
tive. “ The  Surrender  of  Admiral  De  Winter  to  Lord  Duncan,  on  board 
the  Venable,  off  Cape  Town,”  is  another  of  the  subjects  of  national 
interest  which  he  delighted  to  paint.  Samuel  and  Eli,  the  King’s  Chil- 
dren Playing  with  a Dog,  and  the  Boy  Rescued  from  a Shark,  are  other 
most  prominent  works  of  Copley,  all  of  them  widely  known  through  en- 
gravings. In  regard  to  the  latter,  which  is  a familiar  ornament  of  Christ’s 
Hospital  School,  in  London,  a curious  tradition  exists.  Such  an  adven- 
ture as  is  represented  in  this  picture  actually  occurred  to  a boy  when 
bathing  at  Havana.  A shark  seized  his  foot,  when  a seaman  struck  the 
creature  on  the  head  with  a boat-hook,  and  rescued  the  youth.  “ Dry  and 
bad  in  color,”  as  this  painting  has  been  justly  described,  it  is  also  not  the  less 
true  that  “ the  terror  of  the  boy,  the  fury  of  the  fish,  and  the  resolution 
of  the  seaman,  are  well  represented.”  But  there  is  another  story  illustrated 
by  this  picture.  Brooke  Watson,  “ an  adventurer  from  one  of  the  New 
England  provinces,”  was  commissary  in  the  British  army,  member  of  Par- 
liament, and  finally  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  He  took  an  afitive  part  in 
opposition  to  our  independence,  in  the  House  of  Commons  ; and  before  he 
joined  himself  to  the  enemies  of  America,  he  had,  under  the  guise  of  an 
ally  and  friend,  possessed  himself  of  much  valuable  information  for  the 
benefit  of  the  English  government  and  our  opponents.  To  this  treachery 
he  added  the  not  less  base  reputation  of  a zealous  advocate  of  the  slave 
trade  ; his  argument  for  which  infamous  traffic  was,  that  its  suppression 
“would  injure  the  market  for  the  refuse  of  the  English  fisheries,” — being 
purchased  by  the  West  India  planters  for  their  slaves.  Dunlap  is  indig- 


Copley. 


79 


nant  that  Copley  should  have  immortalized  this  devotee  of  the  traffic  in 
human  flesh  by  the  picture  of  “ The  Boy  Rescued  from  a Shark  but  the 
latter  evidently  valued  the  trophy,  since  he  bequeathed  it  to  Christ’s  Hos- 
pital School.  The  same  individual  is  the  hero  of  one  of  the  few  facetious 
papers  from  the  pen  of  Edward  Everett,  called  “ Curiosity  Baffled,”* 
wherein  a London  Lord  Mayor,  formerly  a resident  in  the  American  colo- 
nies, is  described  as  worn  out  with  the  pertinacious  queries  of  two  Yankee 
guests,  whom  he  had  invited  to  dinner,  and  who  were  dying  to  know  how 
he  lost  his  leg  ; and  when  they  begged  leave  to  ask  one  question  more, 
the  request  was  granted,  on  condition  it  should  be  the  last.  The  delicate 
inquiry  was  propounded,  and  the  reply,  “It  was  bitten  off,”  only  baffled 
the  curiosity  it  failed  wholly  to  gratify. 

The  career  of  Copley  was  revived  to  our  memory  within  a few  years,  by 
the  exhibition  and  sale  of  the  collection  of  his  pictures  belonging  to  the 
estate  of  Lord  Lyndhurst,  who  died  October  ioth,  1863.  The  sale  took 
place  in  London  on  the  5th  of  March,  1864.  Proof  impressions  of  his 
engraved  historical  pictures,  and  the  original  studies  for  each,  together 
with  numerous  portraits,  evidenced  the  industry  and  progress  of  the 
artist,  and  illustrated  all  his  traits.  The  portraits  of  Lord  Howe,  Admiral 
Barrington,  Viscount  Duncan,  afterwards  Lord  Camperdown  ; sketches  of 
the  siege  of  Gibraltar,  of  the  deaths  of  Chatham  and  Pierson,  and  of  the 
pidlure  of  Charles  I.  demanding  the  arrest  of  the  Five  members  ; Abra- 
ham’s Sacrifice,  Llagar  and  Ishmael,  the  Princesses  Mary,  Sophia,  and 
Amelia,  children  of  George  IIP,  in  the  garden  at  Windsor,  a highly  fin- 
ished sketch  ; Samuel  and  Eli,  the  well-known  piCture  engraved  by  Valentine 
Green  for  a Bible  illustration  ; a fine  copy  of  St.  Jerome,  after  Correggio  ; 
Saul  Reproved  by  Samuel,  The  Boy  and  Squirrel,  and  The  Boy  Res- 
cued from  a Shark, — very  early  and  slightly  modified  repetitions  of  the 
originals  ; the  Battle  of  the  Pyrenees,  with  portraits  of  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington and  Lord  March,  unfinished,  combined  to  reveal  the  artist-life  of 
Copley, — his  studies  in  Italy,  his  careful  delineation  of  heads  from  life,  and 
his  experiments  in  classic,  Scriptural  and  historical  subjects.  There  were 
the  original  likenesses  of  the  Hessian  officers  ; the  head  of  the  favorite 
negro,  introduced  in  the  shark  picture ; the  “ Red  Cross  Knight,”  an  alle- 
gorical work,  based  on  Spenser,  and  including  portraits  of  Lord  Lynd- 
hurst, his  father,  and  his  two  sisters,  Miss  Green  and  Miss  Copley.  This 
interesting  work  is  now  in  the  possession  of  his  Boston  kindred,  who  pur- 
chased several  other  of  the  most  characteristic  pictures  at  the  sale.  “ Cupid 
caressing  Venus  the  portrait  of  an  unknown  lady,  signed  Boston,  1772  ; 
George  the  Fourth,  as  Prince  of  Wales,  at  a review,  with  a distinguished 
group  ; the  Offer  of  the  Crown  to  Lady  Jane  Grey  ; and  the  celebrated 
chef-d'oeuvre,  the  Death  of  Major  Pierson,  repurchased  by  Copley  ; with 
the  well-known  family  picture,  representing  the  artist,  his  wife  with  an 
infant  in  her  arms,  his  father,  his  three  other  children,  and  Mr.  Clarke, 
the  father  of  Mrs.  Copley, — made  up  a remarkable  and  characteristic  collec- 

* Boston  Book,  1841. 


So 


American  Artist  Life. 


tion  ; its  chief  obje6ts  familiar  to  many,  through  the  Royal  Academy  exhi- 
bitions and  a series  of  popular  engravings.  Of  his  portraits  of  Earl  Spen- 
cer, Lord  Sidmouth,  Lord  Colchester,  and  Richard  Heber  in  boyhood — 
all  but  the  last  engraved, — Dr.  Dibdin  says  the  first — in  the  gallery  at 
Althorp — “must  have  been  a striking  likeness,  although  too  stiff  and 
stately ;”  the  latter  has  considerable  merit : there  is  a play  of  light  and 
shadow,  and  the  figure,  with  a fine  flowing  head  of  hair,  mingles  well  with 
its  accessories.  He  is  leaning  on  a cricket-bat,  with  a ball  in  one  hand. 
The  contemplation  of  this  portrait  has  at  times  produced  mixed  emotions 
of  admiration,  regard  and  pity  ; for,  as  Dean  Swift  remarked,  “ if  you  should 
look  at  him  in  his  boyhood  through  the  magnifying  end  of  the  glass,  and 
in  his  manhood  through  the  diminishing  end,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
spy  any  difference.”  Thus  nearly  allied  is  the  art  of  portraiture  and  the 
science  of  character. 

Although  Copley  was,  in  a great  measure,  self-taught,  he  doubtless  saw 
in  his  novitiate  more  or  less  of  the  pictures  of  Smibert,  Blackburn,  and 
West.  He  had  many  fine  drawings  and  casts  when  he  resided  in  Boston. 
In  1768,  Charles  Wilson  Peale  went  thither,  from  Annapolis,  to  seek  his 
instruction  ; and  Trumbull,  who  visited  him  at  the  time  of  his  marriage, 
as  we  have  seen,  conceived  a fascinating  idea  of  the  career  of  a painter  from 
Copley’s  elegant  costumes  of  crimson  velvet,  and  comfortable  mode  of  life. 
He  died  suddenly,  at  the  age  of  seventy-eight ; and  his  latter  years  were 
somewhat  embarrassed,  owing  to  the  dilatory  conduCt  of  Bartolozzi,  who 
engraved  his  popular  works.  His  last  exhibited  picture  was  far  below  the 
efforts  of  his  prime.  He  suffered  some  “noble  higgling,”  and  knew  the 
law’s  delay  ; he  was  devoted  to  his  art  ; and  his  career,  though  unevent- 
ful, was,  on  the  whole,  prosperous,  and  he  was  emphatically  “ a good 
artist  and  a good  man.”  There  are  many  curious  but  unauthenticated 
anecdotes  of  Copley.  One  story  attributed  to  him  was  long  current.  It 
is  said  that  he  engaged  to  paint  a family  group  ; and,  before  it  was  fin- 
ished, the  wife  died  and  the  husband  married  again.  The  first  wife  was 
therefore  painted  as  an  angel,  and  the  second  given  her  terrestrial  place  ; 
but  the  latter  died  also  before  the  picture  was  completed,  and  had  to  be 
“placed  aloft,”  while  her  successor  occupied  the  earthly  centre  of  the 
family  group.  Eventually,  we  are  told,  the  third  wife  insisted  upon  hav- 
ing her  predecessors  obliterated.  The  anecdote  seems  like  a satirical 
invention  to  indicate  Copley’s  slow  method  of  painting. 

West,  Copley  and  Trumbull,  in  their  military  compositions,  first  success- 
fully introduced  modern  costumes  in  historical  painting.  How  far  the 
actual  should  be  sacrificed  to  the  picturesque,  the  familiar  to  the  ideal, 
has  long  been  a question,  and  one  which  it  is  very  difficult  to  settle. 
When,  in  1798,  Washington  replied  to  Jefferson’s  inquiry  as  to  his  views 
regarding  costume,  for  the  proposed  statue  by  Houdon,  he  says  : “ Not 
having  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  art  of  sculpture  to  oppose  my  judgment 
to  the  taste  of  connoisseurs,  I do  not  desire  to  dictate  in  the  matter.  I 
venture  to  suggest  that  a servile  adherence  to  the  garb  of  antiquity  might 


Capley. 


Si 


not  be  altogether  so  inexpedient  as  some  little  deviation  in  favor  of  mod- 
ern costume.”  The  good  sense  which  suggested  the  innovation  in  plastic 
art,  and  the  deference  to  more  practiced  judges,  are  alike  characteristic, 
and  show  how  great  a novelty  in  pictorial  art  was  West’s  experiment  in 
his  “ Death  of  Wolfe,”  which  initiated  the  style  successfully  adopted  by 
Copley.  There  is  something,  however,  essentially  ineffective  and  ungrace- 
ful in  dress-coats,  stocks,  chapeaus  and  top-boots.  Copley  found  it  a 
difficult  problem  to  group  a large  number  of  inactive  figures  naturally.  In 
statuary,  no  one  can  fail  to  perceive  how  much  is  gained  by  approaching 
the  nude,  or  introducing  the  simple  folds  of  classic  drapery.  In  the 
“ Declaration  of  Independence,”  the  row  of  legs  is  positively  uncouth  ; 
and  in  the  military  scenes  of  Trumbull  and  Copley,  only  the  interest  of 
the  aCtion  reconciles  us  to  the  homeliness  of  the  details.  Red  coats  and 
muskets  have  no  ideal  associations  ; but  these  artists  had  the  talent  to 
give  character  to  postures  and  faces  ; and,  like  good  aCtors  in  an  indiffer- 
ent theatre,  win  attention  from  the  accessories  by  the  spirit  of  the  main 
conception.  Copley’s  “ Death  of  Major  Pierson  ” thus  affeCtingly  com- 
memorates an  instance  of  heroic  self-sacrifice  ; and,  had  the  requisite 
encouragement  been  given,  he  would  have  devoted  himself  exclusively  to 
that  department  of  historical  painting  which  embodies  important  events, 
by  distinguished  groups  and  aCtual  portraits — a branch  for  which  his 
practiced  skill  in  likenesses  and  his  judgment  in  arrangement  were  finely 
adapted. 


6 


TRUMBULL. 


RT,  in  its  Comprehensive  sense,  appears  designed  to  vindi- 
cate nature.  A genius  for  adtion,  when  thwarted  by  physical 
or  moral  inaptitude,  is  often  happily  exhibited  through  the 
imagination.  Thus  poetry  has  been  defined  as  the  expression 
of  unattained  desire  ; and  it  is  no  small  consolation  to  enthu- 
siasts, when  denied  a career,  to  represent  adequately,  in 
language  or  colors,  the  events  in  which  they  would  have  fain  taken  part. 
The  love  of  glory  is  as  evident  in  the  subjects  which  artists  choose  to 
illustrate  as  in  the  patient  toil  they  devote  to  renown,  and  it  is  not  more 
difficult  to  infer  the  modesty  or  ambition  of  a painter  than  his  taste.  Th*e 
dominant  idea  of  Trumbull,  in  his  artistic  labors,  was  to  celebrate  great 
events.  He  was  endowed  to  sympathize  with  these.  By  early  associa- 
tion he  was  identified  with  that  peculiar  tone  of  character — blending  a 
keen  sense  of  honor  with  a spirit  of  enterprise,  that  marked  our  revolu- 
tionary epoch.  He  inherited  a strong  national  feeling.  To  remarkable 
quickness  of  perception,  habits  of  study,  and  a thirst  for  distinction,  he 
united  a decided  talent  for  drawing,  but,  apparently,  little  of  that  intense 
love  of  the  beautiful  or  deep  enthusiasm  for  art  which  distinguish  more 
gifted  painters. 

John  Trumbull,  son  of  the  colonial  Governor  of  Connecticut,  Jonathan 
Trumbull,  a steadfast  patriot  of  the  Revolution,  was  born  in  Lebanon,  in 
that  State,  on  the  6th  of  June,  1756,  and  died  in  New  York,  November, 
1843.  A graduate  of  Harvard  University,  his  artistic  taste  was  awakened 
by  familiarity  with  the  portraits  of  Copley  and  Smibert.  The  same  copy 
of  Vandyke — by  the  latter  artist — which  furnished  to  Allston  his  first 
study  of  color,  also  inspired  the  early  attempts  of  Trumbull.  He  had 
scarcely,  however,  adopted  his  chosen  pursuit  as  a vocation,  when  the  war 
of  the  Revolution  interrupted  his  work,  and  patriotism  won  him  from 
painting.  His  skill  as  a draughtsman  soon  came  into  use  in  military  life  ; 
and  when,  in  1775,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  he  joined  the  army  as  adjutant, 
Washington  employed  him  to  make  a plan  of  the  enemy’s  works,  and 
rewarded  the  service  by  placing  him  on  his  staff,  with  the  rank  of  brigade- 
major.  He  went  with  the  army  to  New  York  ; and,  with  a colonel’s  rank, 
accompanied  Gates  northward.  Under  this  general,  and  subsequently 


Tfumbull. 


8 3 

with  Arnold,  he  continued  to  hold  the  office,  until,  with  the  sensitiveness 
which  characterized  him  as  a soldier,  a gentleman,  and  an  artist,  he  felt 
aggrieved  at  the  date  which  Congress  assigned  to  his  commission,  threw 
it  up  in  disgust,  and,  quitting  the  army,  resumed  the  pencil.  In  1780, 
Colonel  Trumbull  visited  France,  and  thence  went  to  London,  and  studied 
auspiciously  with  West.  The  retaliatory  spirit  induced  by  the  execu- 
tion of  Major  Andre,  led  to  severe  measures  on  the  part  of  the  British 
government,  and  among  the  first  victims  was  Trumbull,  who,  while  quietly 
pursuing  his  art,  was  arrested  as  a spy.  At  the  earnest  interposition  of 
West,  then  in  high  favor  with  George  the  Third,  the  life  of  his  brother- 
artist  and  pupil  was  spared  ; and,  after  eight  months’  imprisonment,  Trum- 
bull was  released,  on  condition  of  leaving  the  kingdom,  West  and  Copley 
being  his  sureties.  With  the  former  he  resumed  his  studies  when  the  close  of 
the  war  enabled  him  once  more  to  visit  England,  the  intermediate  period 
having  been  passed  in  his  native  country.  In  the  autumn  of  1789,  Trum- 
bull returned  to  America  for  the  purpose  of  taking  likenesses  of  the 
eminent  living  patriots  of  the  new  Republic  and  heroes  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, with  a view  to  the  execution  of  an  historical  work  commemorative 
of  the  recent  times,  now  become  so  illustrious,  and  destined  to  be  of  per- 
manent historical  interest.  ‘Until  the  year  1794,  this  enterprise  engaged  all 
the  painter’s  time  and  talent.  He  had  then  collected  an  invaluable  series  of 
heads,  and  delineated  to  his  heart’s  content  the  peerless  chief  whom  he  so 
loved  and  honored.  He  then  went  again  to  England,  as  secretary  to  Mr. 
Jay,  and  in  1796  was  appointed  fifth  commissioner  for  the  execution  of  the 
seventh  article  of  that  minister’s  treaty  of  ’94.  These  duties  occupied  Trum- 
bull during  seven  years.  His  pencil  was  not  idle  meanwhile  ; but  few  of 
his  pictures  of  this  date  had  much  success.  He  returned  to  the  United 
States  in  1815  ; and,  two  years  later,  was  commissioned  by  Congress  to 
paint  four  elaborate  historical  works  to  fill  the  panels  of  the  rotunda  in 
the  Capitol  at  Washington.  Engravings  have  made  these  pictures  familiar 
throughout  the  land  ; they  have  been  the  subjects  of  much  indiscriminate 
criticism,  and  have  afforded  no  little  patriotic  delight.  “ The  Declaration 
of  Independence,”  “The  Surrender  of  Burgoyne,”  “ The  Surrender  of 
Cornwallis,”  and  “ The  Resignation  of  Washington  at  Annapolis,”  are 
themes  which,  for  moral  and  national  significance,  have  rarely  been 
equalled  in  modern  history.  They  furnish  subjects  for  art  endeared  to 
the  people  by  every  association  of  honorable  patriotism.  The  artist  had 
mingled  in  the  scenes  he  commemorated,  partaken  of  the  spirit  he  aimed 
to  represent ; a sterling  patriot,  and  a devoted  personal  friend  and  admirer  of 
Washington  ; a sufferer  in  the  cause  of  American  liberty;  he  brought  to  his 
task  a degree  of  knowledge  and  sympathy  which  seldom  inspires  the  heart 
and  hand  of  an  historical  painter,  to  whom  the  event  or  character  delineated 
is  usually  remote  from  personal  association,  and  vaguely  identified  with 
the  distant  past.  Faithfully,  for  years,  gleaning  the  materials  of  the  work, 
Trumbull’s  feelings  and  fame,  fortune  and  pride,  were  too  deeply  involved 
in  the  experiment  not  to  arouse  in  its  behalf  all  the  latent  susceptibilities 


s4 


American  Artist  Life. 

of  a mind  at  once  high-toned  and  keenly  alive  to  the  claims  of  art  and 
character.  Many  difficulties  and  numerous  discouragements  attended  the 
enterprise.  He  had  to  deal  with  men  in  office  unversed  in  the  requisites 
of  enlightened  and  liberal  patronage.  Political  prejudice  and  indifference 
to  the  intrinsic  claims  of  art,  combined  often  to  thwart  and  annoy  him  ; 
and  when  Government,  in  his  old  age  and  straitened  circumstances, 
declined  to  purchase  the  original  sketches  and  portraits,  fifty-seven  in 
number,  which  had  formed  the  basis  of  these  pictures,  he  was  glad  to 
accept  from  Yale  College  a pension  in  exchange  for  the  collection,  which 
that  institution  formed  into  a permanent  gallery — now  constituting,  at  the 
painter’s  fond  instance,  his  own  best  monument  and  memorial,  which 
recalls  that  of  Thorwaldsen  at  Copenhagen.  The  following  inscription 
there  designates  his  tomb  and  the  traits  and  triumphs  of  his  life  : — “ Col- 
onel John  Trumbull,  patriot  and  artist,  friend  and  aide  of  Washington, 
died  in  New  York,  Nov.  io,  1843,  JE.  88.  He  reposes  in  a sepulchre 
built  by  himself,  beneath  this  monumental  gallery,  where,  in  September, 
1834,  he  deposited  the  remains  of  Sarah,  his  wife,  who  died  in  New 
York,  April  24,  1824,  M.  51.  To  his  country  he  gave  his  pencil  and  his 
sword.” 

When  Horatio  Greenough  returned  to  this  country,  after  many  years’ 
residence  in  Italy  devoted  to  the  study  and  practice  of  art,  his  mind 
was  keenly  alive  to  all  the  achievements  and  tendencies  of  his  native  land 
in  regard  to  this,  in  his  view,  high  and  dear  social  interest : few  places 
excited  his  sympathies  so  deeply  as  the  unique  memorial  tomb  of  his  rev- 
ered artist-friend  ; and  we  cannot  more  appropriately  indicate  its  claims 
both  on  the  patriotic  and  the  critical  lover  of  art  than  by  quoting  the 
lamented  sculptor’s  impressions  there  received,  as  expressed  in  one  of  his 
occasional  contributions  to  the  literature  of  art. 

“ In  passing  through  New  Haven,  a few  days  since,  I visited  the  Trum- 
bull Gallery,  and  was  sincerely  gratified  to  find  the  works  of  my  venerable 
friend  collected,  cared  for,  and  in  the  keeping  of  a dignified  and  permanent 
corporation.  “ I remarked  with  regret  that  the  building,  where  these  works  of 
Col.  Trumbull  are  kept,  was  in  part  of  combustible  material,  and  warmed  in  a 
manner  which  must  always  be  injurious  to  pictures.  I am  not  aware  of  the 
wants  which  placed  the  gallery  on  the  second  story,  with  a wooden  floor 
and  a wooden  staircase  so  near  the  pictures.  Whatever  ends  may  have 
been  gained  by  this  arrangement,  much  has  been  sacrificed  to  them.  Had 
this  gallery  been  located  on  a ground  floor,  in  a building  of  one  story, 
lighted  as  at  present,  with  a stone  or  painted  brick  floor  resting  upon  ven- 
tilated cobble  stones,  I must  believe  that  the  expense  would  have  been  no 
greater,  and  the  security  perfect. 

“ I noted  a most  interesting  object  in  this  gallery — a sketch  of  Major 
Andre,  made  by  himself  on  the  day  of  his  execution.  This  sketch,  which 
is  made  with  a pen,  is  not  of  artistic  value  beyond  what  may  be  looked  for 
in  similar  efforts  of  any  educated  engineer ; but  it  has  a historic  and  per- 
sonal interest  of  a high  order,  and  I would  venture  to  hint  that  it  is  not 


Trumbull. 


85 


properly  framed  considering  its  value,  nor  safely  kept,  if  any  one  consider 
its  high  interest  elsewhere.  It  should  form  an  inseparable  part  of  some 
larger  fixture.  This  suggestion  would  be  both  uncalled  for  and  ungracious, 
but  for  the  faCt  that  much  larger  works  have  in  Europe  been  abstracted 
from  places  of  public  resort,  and  that,  too,  in  spite  of  a jealous  supervision 
of  the  authorities  interested  in  their  preservation. 

“ It  was  truly  interesting  to  observe  in  this  collection  the  small  studies 
of  Col.  Trumbull’s  pictures  for  the  Rotunda  ; and  since  I have  mentioned 
these,  I cannot  refrain  from  saying  a few  words  in  relation  to  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  which  I regard  as  by  far  the  ablest  of  these  pictures, — 
a work  selected  by  John  Randolph  as  the  butt  of  his  unscrupulous  sar- 
casm, stigmatized  by  him  as  the  Shin  Piece,  and  almost  universally  known, 
even  now,  and  mentioned  by  that  ludicrous  cognomen. 

“ I believe  I shall  be  speaking  the  sense  of  the  artistical  body,  and  of 
cognoscenti  in  the  United  States,  when  I say  that  the  ‘Declaration  of  In- 
dependence ’ has  earned  the  respeCt  of  all,  the  warm  interest  of  such  as 
watch  the  development  of  American  Art,  and  the  admiration  of  those  who 
have  tried  their  own  hand  in  wielding  a weighty  and  difficult  subjeCL 

“ I admire  in  this  composition  the  skill  with  which  Trumbull  has  col- 
lected so  many  portraits  in  formal  session,  without  theatrical  effort,  in  order 
to  enliven  it,  and  without  falling  into  bald  insipidity  by  adherence  to  trivial 
faCt.  These  men  are  earnest,  yet  full  of  dignity  ; they  are  firm  yet  cheer- 
ful ; they  are  gentlemen  ; and  you  see  at  a glance  that  they  meant  some- 
thing very  serious  in  pledging  their  lives,  their  fortunes,  and  their  sacred 
honors. 

“ The  left  hand  of  the  figure  of  Adams  is  awkwardly  pushed  forward. 
The  left  arm  of  Jefferson  is  singularly  incorreCt  for  so  careful  a draughtsman 
as  Col.  Trumbull.  One  could  wish  that  the  lower  limbs  of  Hancock  had 
been  made  more  distinCl  ; perhaps  a slight  enlargement  and  extension  of 
the  light  upon  his  chair,  uniting  with  the  mass  of  light,  would  have  effected 
this  objeCt.  Would  not  the  chair  itself,  in  such  case,  be  less  a spot  than 
it  now  is  in  the  composition  ? 

“ Those  who  have  seen  only  the  sortie  of  Gibraltar  and  the  battle  of 
Bunker  Hill,  would  scarcely  believe  that  these  larger  works  of  the  Capitol 
are  of  the  same  hand,  from  their  inferiority  in  color  and  effedt.  They  have 
a chalky  distemper-like  tone,  which  is  very  unpleasing. 

“In  calling  this  picture  the  Shin  Piece , Mr.  Randolph  accused  a defeCt 
of  composition.  If  I understand  the  gibe,  it  meant  that  there  was  an 
undue  prominence  and  exhibition  of  legs  in  the  work.  Now,  in  point  of 
faCt,  this  is  the  last  charge  which  he  should  have  made  ; nay,  if  Mr.  Ran- 
dolph had  any  special  aversion  for  legs,  he  owed  a tribute  of  praise  to  the 
artist  for  sparing  him  in  that  regard,  since,  of  more  than  forty  persons  who 
are  there  assembled,  ten  only  show  their  legs.  The  gibe,  however,  took 
with  the  house,  because  the  house  was,  by  its  tedium,  prepared  for  a laugh, 
and  not  prepared  to  do  justice  to  the  painter. 

“ The  veteran  artist,  whose  feelings  were  thus  wounded,  was  but  a few 


86 


American  Artist  Life. 


feet  distant  from  the  shameless  orator.  He  afterwards  assured  me,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  that  up  to  that  moment  he  had  always  believed  Randolph 
his  personal  friend.  If  those  who  echoed  and  still  echo  that  paltry  jest, 
will  look  carefully  at  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  they  will  see  that 
the  fadt  of  those  legs  appearing  in  small-clothes,  no  longer  familiar  to  the 
eye,  calls  attention  to  them  in  an  undue  manner,  and  they  will  rather  pity 
the  spirit  and  the  intelligence  which  overlooked  this  difficulty,  than  blame 
the  painter  for  an  inevitable  consequence  of  the  change  of  fashion.” 

The  paintings  have  been  recently  removed  from  the  Trumbull  Gallery  to 
the  new  Art-Building  of  the  College.  Col.  Trumbull’s  pictures  do  not 
now  occupy  a room  by  themselves,  but  are  placed  with  some  others  in  a 
large  gallery.  They  have  been  very  judiciously  cleaned  and  renovated,  so 
that  they  appear  to  much  .better  advantage  than  before,  and  the  additions 
already  made  to  the  collection  have  greatly  increased  its  value  and  inter- 
est. TrumbulPs  celebrated  painting  of  Washington  occupies  a conspicuous 
place  on  the  eastern  wall  of  the  south  hall,  and  under  it  -is  suspended,  by 
way  of  comparison,  a copy  of  Stuart’s  head  of  Washington.  The  one 
represents  the  soldier  bronzed  and  worn  through  years  of  anxious  cam- 
paigning, and  the  other  the  grave  statesman,  enjoying  all  the  ease  and 
elegance  that  wealth  and  position  command  ; and  the  dissimilarities  of  the 
two  may  be  readily  explained  by  the  circumstances  under  which  they  were 
painted. 

It  is  stated,  on  authority,  that  the  noticeable  difference  in  the  breadth 
of  the  lower  part  of  the  face  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  faCt  that  Washington 
wore  ill-setting  false  teeth  when  Stuart  painted  him.  Around  the  large 
painting  of  Washington  are  grouped,  with  very  excellent  effeCt,  a number 
of  Trumbull’s  miniatures  of  revolutionary  notables,  male  and  female, 
together  with  full-sized  portraits  of  members  of  the  painter’s  family, 
flanked  by  old  Governor  Jonathan  Trumbull  on  the  one  side,  and  Presi- 
dent Dwight  on  the  other.  Under  them,  and  extending  along  the  side 
walls,  are  the  original  paintings  of  Trumbull’s  battle-piCLures  of  the  Revo- 
lution, from  which  the  large  paintings  in  the  Capitol  at  Washington  were 
reproduced.  As  very  many  of  the  persons  represented  were  painted  from 
life,  and  as  Col.  Trumbull  always  exhibited  a remarkable  nicety  in  matters 
of  costume,  these  paintings  have  a value  in  addition  to  whatever  they  may 
claim  as  works  of  art. 

There  is  a significant  feature  in  one  of  his  historical  tableaux.  General 
Schuyler,  to  whose  judicious  management  the  vidtory  over  Burgoyne  was 
chiefly  owing,  was  deprived  of  the  leadership  just  when  his  efforts  were 
to  be  crowned  with  success.  “ Though  sensible,”  he  writes,  “ of  the  in- 
dignity of  being  ordered  from  the  command  of  the  army,  at  the  time  when 
an  engagement  must  soon  take  place,  I shall  go  on  doing  my  duty  and 
endeavoring  to  deserve  your  (Washington’s)  esteem  ; ” and  it  has  been 
well  said  that  in  “the  pidture  by  Trumbull  of  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne, 
of  interest  as  preserving  the  likenesses  of  those  who  were  present  at  the 
scene,  but  one  figure  is  represented  in  citizen’s  dress  ; it  is  that  of  General 


Trumbull. 


8; 


Schuyler,  to  whom  the  sympathetic  nature  of  the  artist  thus  pays  a passing 
tribute. 

“ No  artist*  enjoyed  the  opportunities  of  Col.  Trumbull  as  the  portrayer 
of  Washington.  As  aide-de-camp  he  was  familiar  with  his  appearance  in 
the  prime  of  his  life  and  its  most  exciting  era.  At  the  commencement  of 
the  Revolutionary  struggle,  this  officer  was  among  the  most  aCtive,  and 
essentially  promoted  the  secure  retreat  of  the  American  forces,  under 
Gen.  Sullivan,  from  Rhode  Island  : he,  therefore,  largely  partook  of  the 
spirit  of  those  days,  came  freely  under  the  influence  of  Washington’s  char- 
acter as  it  pervaded  the  camp,  and  had  ample  time  and  occasion  to  observe 
the  Commander-in-chief  in  his  military  aspeCl,  and  in  social  intercourse, 
on  horseback,  in  the  field,  and  at  the  hospitable  board,  in  the  councils  of 
war,  when  silently  meditating  his  great  work,  when  oppressed  with  anxiety, 
animated  by  hope,  or  under  the  influence  of  those  quick  and  strong  feel- 
ings he  so  early  learned  to  subdue.  After  Trumbull’s  resignation,  and 
when  far  away  from  the  scene  of  Washington’s  glory,  he  painted  his  head 
from  recolledtion,  so  distinctly  was  every  feature  and  expression  impressed 
upon  his  mind.  The  most  spirited  portrait  of  Washington  that  exists— 
the  only  reflection  of  him  as  a soldier  of  freedom  in  his  mature  years  wor- 
thy of  the  name,  drawn  from  life — is  Trumbull’s.  The  artist’s  own  account 
of  this  work  is  given  in  his  memoirs  : ‘ In  1792  I was  again  in  Philadel- 
phia, and  there  painted  the  portrait  of  General  Washington,  now  placed  in 
the  gallery  at  New  Haven,  the  best,  certainly,  of  those  that  I painted,  and 
the  best,  in  my  estimation,  that  exists  in  his  heroic  and  military  character. 
The  city  of  Charleston,  S.  C.,  instructed  Mr.  W.  R.  Smith,  one  of  the  rep- 
resentatives of  South  Carolina,  to  employ  me  to  paint  for  them  a portrait 
of  the  great  man,  and  I undertook  it  con  amove , as  the  commission  was 
unlimited,  meaning  to  give  his  military  character  at  the  most  sublime  mo- 
ment of  its  exertion — the  evening  previous  to  the  battle  of  Trenton,  when, 
viewing  the  vast  superiority  of  his  approaching  enemy,  the  impossibility  of 
again  crossing  the  Delaware  or  retreating  down  the  river,  he  conceives  the 
plan  of  returning  by  anight  march  into  the  country  from  which  he  had  been 
driven,  thus  cutting  off  the  enemy’s  communication  and  destroying  the 
depot  of  stores  at  Brunswick.’  There  is  a singular  felicity  in  this  choice 
of  the  moment  to  represent  Washington,  for  it  combines  all  the  most  desi- 
rable elements  of  expression  characteristic  of  the  man.  It  is  a moment, 
not  of  brilliant  achievement,  but  of  intrepid  conception,  when  the  dignity 
of  thought  is  united  with  the  sternness  of  resolve,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
daring  experiment  kindles  the  habitual  mood  of  self-control  into  an  un- 
wonted glow.  As  the  artist  unfolded  his  design  to  Washington,  the  memory 
of  that  eventful  night  thrilled  him  anew  ; he  rehearsed  the  circumstances, 
described  the  scene,  and  his  face  was  lighted  up  as  the  memorable  crisis 
in  his  country’s  fate  and  his  own  career  was  renewed  before  him.  He 
spoke  of  the  desperate  chance,  the  wild  hope,  and  the  hazardous  but  fixed 
determination  of  that  hour  ; and,  as  the  gratified  painter  declares,  ‘ looked 

* From  the  author’s  “ Character  and  Portraits  of  Washington.” 


88 


American  Artist  Life. 


the  scene.’  ‘The  result,’  he  says,  ‘was,  in  my  own  opinion,  eminently 
successful,  and  the  General  was  satisfied.’  Whether  the  observer  of  the 
present  day  accedes  to  the  opinion,  that  he  “ happily  transferred  to  the  can- 
vas the  lofty  expression  of  his  animated  countenance,  the  resolve  to  con- 
quer or  perish ; ’ whether  the  picture  comes  up  to  his  preconceived  ideal  of 
the  heroic  view  of  Washington  or  not,  he  must  admit  that  it  combines  great 
apparent  fidelity,  with  more  spirit  and  the  genius  of  adtion,  than  all 
other  portraits. 

“ Although  not  so  familiar  as  Stuart’s,  numerous  good  copies  of  Trumbull’s 
Washington,  some  from  his  own,  and  others  by  later  pencils,  have  rendered 
it  almost  as  well  known  in  this  country.  Contemporaries  gave  it  a decided 
preference  ; it  recalled  the  leader  of  the  American  armies,  the  man  who 
was  ‘first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen,’  ere  age  relaxed  the  facial 
muscles  and  modified  the  decisive  lines  of  the  mouth  ; it  was  associated  in 
their  minds  with  the  indignant  rebuke  at  Monmouth,  the  brilliant  surprise 
at  Trenton,  and  the  heroic  patience  at  Valley  Forge  ; it  was  the  Washing- 
ton of  their  youth,  who  led  the  armies  of  freedom — the  modest,  the  brave, 
the  vigilant  and  triumphant  chief.  Ask  an  elderly  Knickerbocker  what 
pidture  will  give  you  a good  idea  of  Washington,  and  he  will  confidently 
refer  you,  as  the  testimony  his  father  has  taught  him,  to  Trumbull’s  por- 
trait in  the  City  Hall.  When  Lafayette  first  beheld  a copy  of  this  pidture, 
in  a gentleman’s  house  in  New  Jersey,  on  his  visit  to  this  country,  a few 
years  before  his  death,  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  delight  at  its  resem- 
blance. An  excellent  copy  by  Vanderlyn,  adorns  the  U.  S.  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives, for  the  figure  in  which,  Geo.  B.  Rapalye,  Esq.,  a highly 
respedted  citizen  of  New  York,  stood  with  exemplary  patience,  for  many 
days,  wearing  a coat,  perhaps  the  first  specimen  of  American  broadcloth, 
that  had  been  worn  by  Washington.  The  air  of  the  figure  is  manly  and 
elegant,  the  look  as  dignified  and  commanding,  and  the  brow  as  pradtical 
in  its  moulding,  as  in  Stuart’s  representation  of  him  at  a more  advanced 
period  ; but  the  face  is  less  round,  the  profile  more  aquiline,  the  complex- 
ion has  none  of  the  fresh  and  ruddy  hue,  and  the  hair  is  not  yet  blanched. 
It  is,  altogether,  a keener,  more  adtive,  less  thoughtful,  but  equally  graceful 
and  dignified  man.  In  Trumbull’s  military  portrait,  he  stands  in  an  easy 
attitude,  in  full  uniform,  with  his  hand  on  his  horse’s  neck  ; and  the  most 
careless  observer  would  recognize,  at  a glance,  the  image  of  a brave  man,  an 
intelligent  officer,  and  an  honorable  gentleman.  The  excellent  engraving 
of  Durand  has  widely  disseminated  Trumbull’s  spirited  head  of  Wash- 
ington. 

“ Although  the  concurrent  testimony  of  those  best  fitted  to  judge,  gives  the 
palm  to  Trumbull’s  portrait,  as  the  most  faithful  likeness  of  Washington 
in  his  prime,  this  praise  seems  to  refer  rather  to  the  general  expression 
and  air,  than  to  the  details  of  the  face.  Trumbull  often  failed  in  giving  a 
satisfadlory  likeness  ; he  never  succeeded  in  rendering  the  complexion,  as 
is  obvious  by  comparing  that  of  his  pidture  in  the  New  York  City  Hall  with 
any  or  all  of  Stuart’s  heads  ; the  former  is  yellow,  and  gives  the  idea  of  a 


Trumbull. 


89 


bilious  temperament,  while  the  latter,  in  every  instance,  have  the  florid, 
ruddy  tint,  which,  we  are  assured,  was  characteristic  of  Washington,  and 
indicative  of  his  aCtive  habits,  constant  exposure  to  the  elements,  and  Saxon 
blood.  The  best  efforts  of  Trumbull  were  his  first,  careful  sketches;  he 
never  could  elaborate  with  equal  effeCt ; the  collection  of  small,  original 
heads,  from  which  his  historical  pictures  were  drawn,  have  a genuine  look 
and  a spirited  air,  seldom  discoverable  in  the  enlarged  copies. 

“ ‘ Washington,’  says  Trumbull,  in  describing  the  picture,  ‘is  repre- 
sented standing  on  elevated  ground,  on  the  south  side  of  the  creek  at 
Trenton,  a little  below  the  stone  bridge  and  mill.  He  has  a reconnoitring 
glass  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  is  supposed  to  have  been  examining  the 
strength  of  the  hostile  army,  pouring  into  and  occupying  Trenton,  which 
he  has  just  abandoned  at  their  appearance  ; and,  having  ascertained  their 
great  superiority,  as  well  in  numbers  as  discipline,  he  is  supposed  to  have 
been  meditating  how  to  avoid  the  apparently  impending  ruin,  and  to  have 
just  formed  the  plan  which  he  executed  during  the  night.  This  led  to  the 
splendid  success  at  Princeton  on  the  following  morning ; and,  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  great  Frederic,  placed  his  military  character  on  a level  with 
that  of  the  greatest  commanders  of  ancient  or  modern  times.  Behind,  and 
near,  an  attendant  holds  his  horse.  Every  minute  article  of  dress,  down 
to  the  buttons  and  spurs,  and  the  buckles  and  straps  of  the  horse  furniture, 
were  carefully  painted  from  the  different  objeCts.’ 

The  gentleman  who  was  the  medium  of  this  commission  to  Trumbull, 
praised  his  work  ; but  aware  of  the  popular  sentiment,  declared  it  not  calm 
and  peaceful  enough  to  satisfy  those  for  whom  it  was  intended.  With 
reluCtance,  the  painter  asked  Washington,  overwhelmed  as  he  was  with 
official  duty,  to  sit  for  another  portrait,  which  represents  him  in  his  every- 
day aspeCt,  and,  therefore,  better  pleased  the  citizens  of  Charleston.  ‘ Keep 
this  picture,’  said  Washington  to  the  artist,  speaking  of  the  first  experi- 
ment, ‘ and  finish  it  to  your  own  taste.’  When  the  Connecticut  State 
Society  of  Cincinnati  dissolved,  a few  of  the  members  purchased  it  as  a 
gift  to  Yale  College. 

“Trumbull’s  style  was  founded  on  that  of  West.  His  ‘ Death  of  Mont- 
gomery ’ has  been  justly  ranked  by  intelligent  critics  as  ‘ one  of  the  most 
spirited  battle-pieces  ever  painted.’  That  part  of  the  scene  is  chosen 
where  General  Montgomery  commanded  in  person  ; and  that  moment, 
when,  by  his  unfortunate  death,  the  plan  of  attack  was  entirely  discon- 
certed, and  the  consequent  retreat  of  his  column  decided  at  once  the  fate 
of  the  place,  and  of  such  of  the  assailants  as  had  already  entered  at  another 
point.  The  principal  group  represents  the  death  of  General  Montgomery, 
who,  together  with  his  two  aides-de-camp,  Major  McPherson  and  Captain 
Cheesman,  fell  by  a discharge  of  grape-shot  from  the  cannon  of  the 
place.  The  General  is  represented  as  expiring,  supported  by  two  of  his 
officers,  and  surrounded  by  others,  among  whom  is  Colonel  Campbell,  on 
whom  the  command  devolved,  and  by  whose  order  a retreat  was  immedi- 
ately begun. 


90 


American  Artist  Life. 

“ Grief  and  surprise  mark  the  countenances  of  the  various  characters. 
The  earth  covered  with  snow — trees  stripped  of  their  foliage — the  desola- 
tion of  winter,  and  the  gloom  of  night — heighten  the  melancholy  character 
of  the  scene. 

“ His  ‘ Sortie  of  the  Garrison  from  Gibraltar  ’ was  exhibited  with  success 
in  London,  and  is  the  subjeCt  of  a popular  engraving  by  Sharpe.  An  in- 
valuable feature  in  his  American  historical  pictures,  as  we  have  said,  is 
the  authenticity  of  the  portraits. 

“The  4 Declaration  of  Independence,’  for  instance,  contains  only  aCtual 
portraits  of  men  in  that  Congress  which  declared  the  United  States  inde- 
pendent of  Great  Britain  ; the  men  whose  wisdom,  firmness  and  sagacity, 
Lord  Chatham  was  the  first  Englishman  to  discover  and  to  proclaim  in 
the  British  Parliament,  more  than  a year  before  the  declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. He  then  further  told  the  House  of  Lords,  Lve  shall  be  forced 
ultimately  to  retraCt ; let  us  retract  while  we  can,  not  when  we  must  I 
say  we  must  necessarily  undo  these  violent,  oppressive  aCts  ; they  must 
be  repealed ; you  will  repeal  them  ; I pledge  myself  for  it,  that  you  will 
in  the  end  repeal  them  ; I stake  my  reputation  on  it : — I will  consent  to  be 
taken  for  an  idiot , if  they  are  not  finally  repealed .’ 

“ Three  years  after,  Parliament  did  repeal  those  oppressive  aCts  (the  Bos- 
ton Port  Bill,  &c.),  but  it  was  then  too  late  to  conciliate  America.  Inde- 
pendence had  in  the  meantime  been  declared,  and  nothing  less  would 
then  satisfy  the  country. 

“The  painting  represents  the  Speaker,  John  Hancock,  in  the  chair.  The 
committee  of  five  have  come  to  the  table,  and  are  presenting  their  draft 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  They  were  Dock  Franklin,  Thomas 
Jefferson,  Robert  R.  Livingston,  Roger  Sherman,  and  John  Adams. 
Charles  Thompson,  Secretary  of  Congress,  is  standing  to  receive  the  Re- 
port. By  reference  to  the  key,  which  hangs  below  the  picture,  the  names 
of  all  the  portraits  can  be  ascertained.  The  room  is  copied  from  that  in 
which  Congress  held  their  sessions  at  the  time.” 

His  pictures  of  the  Battles  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  Trenton,  and  Princeton, 
are  correct  transcripts  of  those  memorable  engagements,  every  detail 
being  historical.  The  catalogue  of  the  Wadsworth  Gallery  Exhibition  at 
Hartford,  where  Trumbull’s  enlarged  copies  of  these  works  now  are, 
gives  an  elaborate  description  of  each.  Here  also  is  a duplicate  of  the 
“Death  of  Montgomery ; ” a Holy  Family  by  the  same  artist ; his  copy 
of  the  “ Declaration  of  Independence;”  a portrait  of  the  first  Governor 
Trumbull,  and  of  Mrs.  L.  IT  Sigourney;  a copy  of  his  portrait  of  Col. 
Wadsworth  and  his  son,  executed  in  London,  and  that  of  Col.  Jeremiah 
Wadsworth  by  Bryant;  his  own  first  essay  in  painting — “Brutus;”  a 
portrait  of  a Gentleman  ; and  a View  of  the  Falls  of  Niagara  from  the 
Upper  Banks — making  altogether  a very  characteristic  series  of  Col. 
Trumbull’s  art-studies  and  mature  works. 

The  painting  of  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  represents  the  moment  when 
(the  Americans  having  expended  their  ammunition)  the  British  troops  be- 


Trumbull. 


91 


came  completely  successful,  and  masters  of  the  field.  At  this  last  moment 
of  the  aCtion,  General  Warren  was  killed  by  a musket  ball  through  the 
head.  The  principal  group  represents  him  expiring,  — a soldier  on  his 
knees  supports  him,  and  with  one  hand  wards  off  the  bayonet  of  a British 
grenadier,  who,  in  the  heat  and  fury  natural  at  such  a moment,  aims  to  re- 
venge the  death  of  a favorite  officer,  Col.  Abercrombie,  who  had  just 
fallen  at  his  feet.  Colonel  Small  had  been  intimately  connected  with 
General  Warren, — saw  him  fall,  and  flew  to  save  him.  He  is  represented 
seizing  the  musket  of  the  grenadier,  to  prevent  the  fatal  blow,  and  speak- 
ing to  his  friend  : it  was  too  late  ; the  General  had  barely  life  remaining 
to  recognize  the  voice  of  friendship  ; he  had  lost  the  power  of  speech, 
and  expired  with  a smile  of  mingled  gratitude  and  triumph.  Near  him 
several  Americans,  whose  ammunition  is  expended,  although  destitute  of 
bayonets,  are  seen  to  persist  in  a resistance  obstinate  and  desperate,  but 
fruitless.  Near  this  side  of  the  painting  is  seen  General  Putnam,  re- 
luctantly ordering  the  retreat  of  these  brave  men  ; while  beyond  him  a 
party  of  the  American  troops  oppose  their  last  fire  to  the  victorious 
column  of  the  enemy. 

Behind  Col.  Small,  is  seen  Col.  Pitcairn,  of  the  British  marines,  mor- 
tally wounded,  and  falling  into  the  arms  of  his  son,  to  whom  he  was 
speaking  at  the  fatal  moment.  Under  the  feet  of  Col.  Small  lies  the 
dead  body  of  Col.  Abercrombie. 

Gen.  Howe,  who  commanded  the  British  troops,  and  Gen.  Clinton, 
who,  towards  the  close  of  the  action,  offered  his  servives  as  a volunteer, 
are  seen  behind  the  principal  group.  Behind  are  seen  the  British  column 
ascending  the  hills  ; grenadiers  headed  by  an  officer  bearing  the  British 
colors  and  mounting  the  feeble  intrenchments ; in  the  distance  the 
Somerset  ship  of  war  ; north  end  of  Boston  and  smoke  indicating  the  con- 
flagration of  Charlestown. 

The  last  twenty-seven  years  of  Trumbull’s  life  were  passed  in  the  city 
of  New  York,  where  he  long  held  the  office  of  President  of  the  Academy 
of  Fine  Arts.  His  friend  and  physician,  Dr.  Francis,  in  a reminiscent 
discourse  before  the  New  York  Flistorical  Society  thus  speaks  of  Colo- 
nel Trumbull’s  latter  days  and  personal  character. 

“ This  accomplished  scholar,  enlightened  and  unswerving  patriot,  emi- 
nent artist  and  delineator  of  American  history,  closed  his  honorable 
career  in  New  York,  in  1843,  in  the  eighty-eighth  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  conspicuous  among  the  old-school  gentlemen  then  among  us.  A few 
days  before  his  death  he  accepted  the  presidency  of  the  Washington 
Monument  Association,  recently  organized  in  this  city.  He  readily  gave 
his  countenance  to  the  work.  I attended  him  in  his  last  illness,  in  con- 
sultation with  his  excellent  physician,  the  late  Dr.  Washington,  and  it  is 
curious  to  remark  that  the  last  word  he  distinctly  uttered,  on  his  dying 
bed,  was  ‘Washington,’  referring  to  the  Father  of  his  country,  a name 
often  on  his  lips. 

“ A genuine  love  of  country,  a noble  devotion  to  her  interest  in  times 


92 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  deep  adversity,  a patriotic  ardor  which  led  him,  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  amidst  almost  insuperable  difficulties  and  perils,  to  rescue  the 
fleeting  and  precious  materials  which  might  give  additional  interes-t  to  her 
annals,  entitle  him  to  the  admiration  of  all  future  time.  We  already  see 
that  the  lapse  of  each  successive  day  gives  increased  value  to  his  labors 
for  the  student  of  American  history.” 

There  are  more  satisfactory  themes  for  the  poet  and  artist  than  war 
affords  ; but  the  cause  for  which  a battle  is  waged,  and  the  results  of  a 
single  contest,  often  give  vast  moral  interest  to  its  very  name.  The  prom- 
inent events  of  our  Revolutionary  era  have  this  character  ; and  to  have 
portrayed  any  of  them  with  truthfulness  and  effeCt,  is  no  ordinary  distinc- 
tion. Such  is  the  feature  of  Colonel  Trumbull’s  artist-life.  Engravings 
have  rendered  his  pictures *so  familiar,  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  enumerate 
or  discuss  them.  They  have  but  inconsiderable  claims  to  lofty  conception 
or  original  beauty,  and  merit  attention  chiefly  as  veritable  glimpses  of 
aCtual  men  and  events^  which  have  exercised  a wonderful  agency  upon 
human  welfare.  In  faCt,  Trumbull’s  life  was  one  of  various  aCtion,  and  his 
military  title  and  diplomatic  reputation  mingle  rather  incongruously  with 
the  serene  avocation  to  which  his  intervals  of  business  were  given.  It  is 
natural  that  he  should  have  gratified  his  patriotism  and  adventurous  instinCt 
in  employing  his  pencil  upon  the  memorable  themes  of  our  history.  We 
can  with  difficulty  imagine  a man  whose  time  and  thoughts  were  so  con- 
stantly employed  in  affairs,  turning  readily  to  landscape  or  still  life,  while 
historical  subjects  at  once  would  awaken  a familiar  interest.  His  reason- 
ing far  transcended  his  imaginative  powers.  Skill,  rather  than  fancy, 
marks  his  pictures.  His  father  was  not  wrong  in  supposing  him  fitted  to 
shine  in  the  legal  profession.  Even  in  painting  we  discern  the  practical 
turn  of  his  mind  ; and  he  was  more  of  an  engineer  than  a poet.  When 
his  education  was  completed,  it  was  long  before  he  could  reconcile  himself 
to  a merely  studious  course  ; and  after  having  left  the  army,  he  acknowl- 
edges that  the  sound  of  a drum  often  called  a tear  to  his  eye.  Burke 
advised  him  to  study  architecture,  in  order  to  minister  to  the  exigencies 
of  a new  and  growing  country  ; and  there  is  reason  to  believe  he  would 
have  excelled  in  this  branch.  The  suggestion  did  not,  however,  coincide 
with  the  idea  of  glory  he  was  fond  of  attaching  to  art.  To  realize  the 
vicissitudes  of  Trumbull’s  life,  it  is  only  necessary  to  recall  some  of  the 
occupations  in  which  he  was  at  various  periods  engaged.  From  school- 
master of  a Connecticut  village  he  became  an  adjutant ; from  secretary  of 
legation,  circumstances  transformed  him  to  a brandy  merchant,  and  from 
a treaty  commissioner  abroad  to  a portrait  painter  at  home.  Meantime, 
he  had  sketched  Indians  and  Rhine  scenery,  copied  celebrated  originals, 
journalized,  and  travelled — flown  over  a battle-field  in  the  midst  of  the 
fight — suffered  imprisonment — been  threatened  more  than  once  with  ship- 
wreck, and  enjoyed  the  society  of  the  leading  men  of  his  own  country  and 
Europe. 

As  regards  social  advantages,  indeed,  Trumbull,  through  life,  was  great- 


Tr limb  till. 


93 


ly  favored.  His  official  relations,  as  well  as  his  pursuit  of  art,  brought  him 
into  intimate  contaCt  with  the  most  distinguished  of  his  time.  In  the  flush 
of  youth  he  was,  for  a brief  period,  aide-de-camp  to  Washington.  Fox  and 
his  illustrious  rival  visited  him  when  incarcerated  in  London.  He  disputed 
Jefferson’s  atheistical  philosophy  at  his  own  table,  and  had  long  conversa- 
tions with  Madame  de  Stael,  Talleyrand,  Sheridan,  and  other  celebrities. 
Sir  Joshua  criticised  and  complimented  him  ; Governor  Hancock  visited 
his  sick-bed  ; Lafayette  confided  to  him  the  secrets  of  French  politics,  and 
David  rescued  him  from  the  police  of  Paris.  He  was  morbidly  sensitive, 
and  this,  with  a certain  pride  of  character,  involved  him  in  many  disputes, 
and  led  him  abruptly  to  leave  the  army,  in  consequence  of  the  injustice  of 
Congress  ; while  others  equally  meritorious,  like  General  Schuyler,  suffer- 
ed worse  treatment  patiently,  for  the  sake  of  the  great  cause  in  which  they 
were  engaged.  He  was  gloomy  in  youth,  and  it  was  in  no  small  degree 
through  his  ambition  that  art  captivated  his  mind.  While  a schoolboy, 
reading  of  Zeuxis  and  Apelles,  in  an  obscure  country  town,  he  conceived 
the  desire  to  be  a painter.  This  predilection  was  confirmed  by  the  sight 
of  Copley,  whose  portraits  were  the  first  specimens  of  the  art  he  ever 
saw,  in  a splendid  wedding-suit.  As  to  his  juvenile  praCtice,  it  began  with 
drawing  figures  on  the  sanded  floor  of  his  nursery. 

He  experienced  the  truth  of  his  father’s  remark,  while  dissuading  him 
from  the  pencil — that  Connecticut  was  not  Athens  ; yet  no  artist  of  the 
period,  in  this  country,  ever  received  such  an  amount  of  government  pat- 
ronage. The  proceeds  of  his  four  pictures,  thirty-two  thousand  dollars, 
were  honorably  appropriated  to  the  liquidation  of  his  debts  ; and  by  an 
arrangement  with  Yale  College  he  secured  an  annuity  adequate  to  his 
support  during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  His  perseverance  and  industry 
were  remarkable.  The  former  quality,  however,  induced  the  same  error 
as  with  Copley — that  of  prolonging  his  labors  after  his  ability  to  do  him- 
self justice  had  ceased.  Even  if  a Gil  Bias  had  been  at  hand,  he  would 
not  probably  have  consulted  him  on  the  expediency  of  commencing  a new 
series  of  pictures  of  Revolutionary  subjects  at  the  age  of  seventy-two. 
Before  that  period  he  had  served,  as  we  have  seen,  his  generation  enough 
to  satisfy  a just  ambition.  He  had  been  engaged  in  the  opening  of  the 
war  of  independence,  rendered  essential  aid  as  a commissioner  under 
Jay’s  treaty,  and  taken  an  aCtive  and  honorable  part  in  public  affairs 
throughout  his  life.  He  had  been  made  a prisoner  of  war  as  an  offset  to 
the  lamented  Andre,  and  taken  counsel  with  the  most  influential  spirits  of 
an  exciting  era,  on  subjects  of  vast  moment. 

The  details  of  his  experiences,  especially  in  public  life,  are  recorded  in 
his  autobiography  ; * and  both  the  elevation  and  the  faults  of  his  character 
are  therein  betrayed.  His  brave  spirit  is  manifest  in  his  bearing  and 
replies,  when  arraigned  before  the  police  authorities  of  London  on  the 
charge  ot  treason.  “ I am,”  he  said,  “an  American.  My  name  is  Trum- 
bull ; I am  a son  of  him  whom  you  call  the  rebel  Governor  of  Connecticut ; 

* Autobiography,  Reminiscences  and  Letters  : 1756-1S41.  New  York,  1841. 


94 


American  Artist  Life. 


I have  served  in  the  rebel  army  ; I have  had  the  honor  of  being  an  aide- 
de-camp  to  him  whom  you  call  the  rebel  George  Washington.  I am 
entirely  in  your  power  ; treat  me  as  you  please — always  remembering  that 
as  I may  be  treated,  so  will  your  friends  in  America  be  treated  by  mine.” 
Discouraged  in  his  artistic  enterprises,  and  vexed  at  what  he  deemed  un- 
just criticism  in  later  years,  he  thus  expressed  himself — in  reference  to 
some  personal  reflections  in  Congress — to  the  editor  of  one  of  the  New 
York  journals  : — 11  After  having  devoted  ten  of  the  best  years  of  my  life, 
in  very  early  youth  and  in  middle  age,  to  the  service  of  my  country,  and 
having  employed  the  intervals  of  military  and  political  occupations  in 
acquiring  an  elegant  art,  for  the  very  purpose  of  preserving,  through  its 
means,  the  memory  of  the  great  events  and  illustrious  men  of  the  Revo- 
lution, I did  hope  to  enjoy  some  repose  during  the  fragment  of  life  which 
can  remain  to  a man  who  has  passed  its  ordinary  limits.”  Trumbull’s  old 
age  was  saddened  also  by  isolation.  His  art  was  his  great  solace.  “ My 
best  friend,”  he  writes,  in  allusion  to  the  death  of  his  wife,  “ was  removed 
from  me,  and  I had  no  child.  A sense  of  loneliness  began  to  creep  over 
my  mind  ; yet  my  hand  was  steady  and  my  sight  good.”  He  began  a new 
series  of  historical  pictures  illustrative  of  the  Revolution  ; but  the  expense 
of  the  enterprise  drained  his  resources,  and  he  was  glad,  at  last,  to  be- 
queathe ins  pictures  to  Yale  College,  and  receive  a life-annuity  of  a thou- 
sand dollars — the  receipts  of  the  exhibition  to  be  devoted  to  the  education 
of  indigent  youth.  “I  thus  have  the  happy  reflection,”  he  writes,  “that 
when  I shall  have  gone  to  my  rest,  these  works  will  remain  a source  of 
good  to  many  a poor,  perhaps  meritorious  and  excellent,  young  man.” 

He  removed  to  New  Haven  in  1837,  and  in  1841  returned  to  New  York, 
for  the  benefit  of  medical  attendance,  and  there  continued  to  reside  until 
his  death.  His  remains,  as  before  stated,  at  his  request,  were  interred  in 
a tomb  built  by  himself,  beneath  the  monumental  gallery  at  New  Haven. 

A catalogue  of  Trumbull’s  pictures  was  prepared  by  his  own  hand.* 
Besides  the  historical  works  at  Washington  and  New  Haven,  many  por- 
traits from  his  pencil  are  to  be  found  in  private  hands  and  public  institutions. 
Among  them  we  may  designate  as  fair  specimens  of  his  style,  portraits 
of  Governors  Clinton,  Lewis,  and  Tompkins,  in  the  New  York  City  Hall; 
portraits  of  Alexander  Hamilton — which  resembles  the  well-known  picture 
of  Pitt — of  a Revolutionary  officer,  and  of  John  Pintard,  in  the  collection 
of  the  New  York  Historical  Society  ; and  of  Washington,  Christopher 
Gore  and  John  Adams,  at  Harvard  University  ; a family  group  in  the  pos- 
session of  George  Bowdoin,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  an  excellent  oil  minia- 
ture of  Mrs.  Wolcott,  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Laura  Gibbs,  of  New 
York  ; a portrait  of  Mr.  Rogers,  belonging  to  Ward  Hunt,  of  Utica,  N.  Y.; 
one  of  a lady,  in  the  gallery  of  James  Lennox,  of  New  York  ; and  one  of 
the  artist  himself,  belonging  to  Mr.  D.  Lanamar,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.  One 
of  the  most  characteristic  and  authentic  likenesses  of  Colonel  Trumbull, 
as  he  appeared  in  later  years,  is  a full-length,  cabinet-sized  oil  portrait  by 

* Dunlap’s  History  of  the  Arts  of  Design,  vol.  1.,  p.  302. 


Trumbull. 


95 


George  W.  Twibill  (painted  in  1835),  a pupil  and  brother-in-law  of  Inman, 
who  died  young,  and  was  quite  esteemed  for  his  small  portraits  at  that 
time.  A miniature  of  Washington,  by  Trumbull,  was  bought  at  the  sale 
of  the  Wolfe  collection,  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  by  J.  T.  San- 
ford. 

Trumbull’s  initiation  into  life  was  stormy,  and  his  early  impressions  in- 
delible. He  witnessed  the  ravages  of  pestilence  at  Crown  Point,  and 
studied  the  picturesque  by  the  light  of  a burning  forest,  on  his  midnight 
watch.  His  first  promising  attempt  in  oil  was  a copy  of  a portrait  in  Har- 
vard College  library;  and  that  which  made  him  known  as  an  efficient 
draughtsman  was  a sketch  of  the  relative  positions  of  the  two  armies  on 
the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  It  is  as  exclusively  the  limner  of 
occurrences  like  this  that  Trumbull  became  celebrated.  He  created  no 
marvels  of  beauty ; he  left  behind  no  wonderful  reflections  of  nature  ; but 
he  transferred  to  canvas  the  features  of  those  extraordinary  men  whose 
wisdom  and  valor  guided  to  a triumphant  issue  the  struggles  of  an 
oppressed  people.  He  delineated  scenes  the  details  of  which  are  deeply 
interesting  to  the  world  ; and  snatched  many  a face  endeared  to  patriotism 
from  oblivion, — thus  illustrating  an  art  whose  ideal  heights  it  was  not  given 
him  to  reach. 

The  education  and  experience  of  Trumbull  fostered  his  natural  integ- 
rity and  precision  ; and  these  qualities  marked  his  habits  and  manners, 
and  are  evident  in  his  pictures.  His  sense  of  honor  and  idea  of  correct- 
ness were  extreme, — hence  the  accuracy  of  his  portraits  and  grouping.  In 
his  latter  days,  before  age  had  subdued  his  energy,  he  was  a type  of  the 
revolutionary  character, — proud,  intelligent,  and  conscientious.  Fertile  in 
reminiscence,  scrupulous  in  intercourse,  and  dignified  in  bearing,  he  was 
among  the  last  representatives  of  the  Hamilton  school  of  politics,  and  his 
patriotic  feelings  and  admiration  of  Washington  were  undying  sentiments. 
The  apathy  with  which  his  claims  were  recognized  as  an  artist,  pecuniary 
difficulties,  and  academic  controversies,  doubtless  somewhat  warped  his 
views,  and  they  were  often  insisted  on  with  a pertinacity  that  seemed  un- 
reasonable. To  a liberal  mind,  however,  the  circumstances  that  attended 
his  long  and  varied  career  sufficiently  account  for  the  captious  spirit  into 
which  he  was  occasionally  betrayed ; and  it  should  never  be  forgotten  that 
he  left  an  honorable  and  patriotic  record,  as  well  as  an  invaluble  bequest 
to  his  country,  and  that  his  artist-life  is  indissolubly  associated  with  men 
and  events  which  the  progress  of  time  only  render  more  sacred. 


WEST. 


RT,  if  the  anecdote  be  not  invented  by  the  romance  of  bio- 
graphy, was  born  on  this  continent  beside  the  cradle  of  a 
sleeping  infant ; and  the  extraordinary  career  of  the  Qua- 
ker boy  who  left  the  woods  of  America  to  become  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  Royal  Academy  in  London,  is  one  of  the  memor- 
able lessons  of  childhood.  The  personal  respedt  which  the 
character  of  Benjamin  West  has  universally  inspired,  the  interesting  details 
of  his  life,  and  the  grateful  recollection  in  which  his  name  is  held  by  succeed- 
ing painters,  have  tended  in  some  degree  to  blend  his  claims  as  an  artist 
with  those  to  which  he  is  entitled  as  a man.  It  is  important  to  define,  if 
possible,  the  limits  of  both.  Discrimination  is  quite  compatible  with  love. 
Indeed,  the  only  affection  that  has  a sure  basis  is  one  conceived  and  nur- 
tured in  the  invigorating  atmosphere  of  truth.  Character  and  genius  are 
quite  distinCt,  and  we  may  feel  sincere  homage  for  the  one  while  we  ques- 
tion the  reality  of  the  other.  There  can,  indeed,  be  no  acceptable  tribute 
to  a manly  soul  except  that  which  justice  sanctions  and  wisdom  confirms  ; 
and  we  deem  ourselves  offering  a genuine  oblation  to  the  integrity  of  the 
pioneer  of  American  art,  if,  while  cordially  recognizing  his  moral  attributes, 
we  frankly  discuss  his  artistic  merits. 

That  “tide  in  the  affairs  of  men”  of  which  the  great  bard  speaks  is  as 
often  discernible  in  the  achievement  of  fame  as  of  fortune.  A remarkable 
series  of  propitious  circumstances  attended  the  life  of  West.  When  he 
firsc  began  to  indulge  his  imitative  faculties,  the  accidental  visit  of  a rela- 
tive suggested  the  gift  of  a paint-box — at  that  time  no  small  rarity  in  his 
isolated  neighborhood.  There  is  little  in  the  habits  or  creed  of  the  Qua- 
kers auspicious  to  the  fine  arts  ; yet  if  we  are  to  believe  one  of  his  biogra- 
phers, the  spirit  moved  a member  of  the  fraternity  to  reconcile,  with  no  little 
eloquence,  the  alleged  vanity  of  painting  with  the  requirements  of  the 
Gospel, — a triumph  over  bigotry  quite  extraordinary,  considering  the  con- 
dition of  society  where  it  occurred  While  he  was  yet  a youth,  a famine 
in  the  south  of  Europe  induced  a Philadelphia  merchant  to  dispatch  a 
vessel  to  Leghorn  with  flour ; and  the  opportunity  was  improved  by  one 
of  his  juvenile  friends  to  see  the  world,  to  whom  the  painter  became  a 
companion.  When  they  were  boarded  at  Gibraltar  by  a British  officer, 
this  young  man  proved  to  be  his  kinsman,  and  they  were  not  only  unmo- 
lested, but  treated  with  a distinction  that  gave  eclat  to  the  voyage  up  the 
Mediterranean — the  effedt  of  which  was  clearly  perceptible  on  their  arri- 


* West. 


97 


val.  At  the  period  that  West  visited  Rome,  the  mere  fa<5l  was  calculated 
to  excite  attention.  He  came  from  a land  around  which  still  hung  the  charm 
of  tradition  and  romance.  It  was  deemed  by  the  imaginative  Italians  a 
circumstance  of  great  interest,  that  a handsome  youth  should  have  made 
a pilgrimage  from  the  distant  forests  of  the  western  world  to  study  art  in 
Rome.  The  very  day  succeeding  his  arrival,  a curious  party  followed  his 
steps  to  observe  the  impression  created  by  the  marvels  he  encountered, 
and  a friendly  regard  naturally  sprang  up  in  their  minds  for  the  inexperi- 
enced exile.  It  is  now  a thing  of  common  occurrence  for  an  American  to 
arrive  in  the  Eternal  City,  bent  upon  the  same  objects.  Then  it  was  a 
novelty,  and  one  which  operated  most  favorably  upon  the  dawning  career 
of  West.  The  kindness  of  Robinson  and  Cardinal  Albani  was  also  op- 
portune in  the  highest  degree  ; nor  is  it  difficult  to  trace  its  after  influence. 
The  state  of  art  in  England,  when  our  fortunate  artist  went  thither,  proved 
no  less  favorable.  The  throne  of  historical  painting  was  vacant,  and 
although,  in  portrait  and  landscape,  a few  stars  yet  glimmered,  their  light 
rather  heralded  than  outshone  the  new  aspirant  for  honor  and  emolument. 
His  countrymen  in  London  were  already  prepared  to  extend  the  hand  of 
fellowship  ; and  Archbishop  Drummond’s  kindly  taCt  soon  obtained  for 
him  the  favor  of  the  king,  which  his  own  prudence  and  amiability  ere  long 
ripened  into  adlual  friendship.  We  do  not  intend  to  ascribe  all  the  success 
of  the  artist  to  circumstances,  but  in  the  lives  of  few  of  his  profession 
have  they  combined  to  such  a degree  towards  encouraging  whatever  of 
native  power  existed.  The  sunshine  of  prosperity  is  generally  acknow- 
ledged to  exert  a fostering  influence,  and  through  a large  part  of  West’s 
career,  it  glowed  with  a brightness  that  seldom  irradiates  the  precarious 
fortunes  of  artist-life.  Some  of  the  very  circumstances  adduced  by  the 
disciples  of  West,  in  upholding  his  title  to  the  highest  rank  in  art,  confirm 
the  view  we  have  suggested.  That  he  should  compare  the  Apollo  Belve- 
dere, at  the  first  glance,  to  a young  Mohawk  warrior,  shows  how  much  his 
mind  was  given  to  the  conventionalities  of  art  ; for  upon  an  ideal  specta- 
tor, it  is  the  thrilling  expression  of  the  god  that  arrests  both  eye  and  heart, 
and  not  the  litheness  of  his  mould  and  the  graceful  animation  of  his  figure. 
The  painter’s  complaint  of  Michael  Angelo,  that  he  had  not  succeeded  in 
giving  any  probability  to  his  works,  also  shows  a want  of  sympathy  with 
the  adventurous.  The  famous  reply  that,  as  a boy,  the  future  President 
of  the  Royal  Academy  made  to  his  comrade,  who  looked  forward  to  being 
a tailor — “ A painter  is  a companion  for  kings  and  emperors  ” — strikes  us 
as  indicative  of  worldly  ambition  far  more  than  of  any  precocious  idea  of 
the  dignity  of  art.  One  of  his  eulogists  gravely  declares  that  he  “ rarely 
failed  to  achieve  what  he  proposed  within  the  time  allotted  for  its  perform- 
ance,’’— a tribute  to  industrious  and  methodical  habits,  rather  questiona- 
ble when  applied  to  efforts  requiring  felicitous  and  exalted  moods.  Plis 
powers  ot  observation  were  evidently  far  greater  than  those  of  conception. 
He  assiduously  sought  and  improved  occasions  to  widen  their  range.  The 
manner  in  which  he  inferred  the  principle  of  the  camera,  from  seeing  the 

7 


98 


American  Artist  Life. 


effeCt  of  light  that  gleamed  through  a closed  shutter  upon  the  wall  of  his 
sick-room  ; his  successful  experiments  to  discover  how  a candle’s  rays 
were  reflected  in  an  old  picture  ; his  visit  to  Spithead  to  study  the  effeCt 
of  smoke  in  a naval  combat,  preparatory  to  executing  the  battle  of  La 
Hague,  evince,  among  other  instances,  how  carefully  he  strove  to  apply 
the  fadts  of  nature  to  the  purposes  of  art.  This,  as  well  as  nearly  all  his 
desirable  traits,  arose  from  the  pradtical  good  sense  which  he  possessed — 
a quality  we  would  by  no  means  undervalue  in  affairs,  but  one  of  but  lim- 
ited efficacy  in  the  creations  of  genius,  to  which  its  relation  is  by  no  means 
intimate.  In  proportion  as  the  designs  of  West  came  within  the  sphere 
of  the  adtual,  and  were  removed  from  highly  poetic  or  deeply  religious 
associations,  they  are  fitted  to  please.  His  classical  scenes  and  battle- 
pieces  we  contemplate  without  impatience.  His  fame  suffers  from  that 
common  error — a mistaken  position.  He  attempted  to  embody  ideas  and 
represent  sentiments  beyond  the  reach  of  his  natural  powers.  With  every 
endowment  necessary  for  high  respedtability  in  art,  he  had  no  legitimate 
claim  to  be  one  of  her  chief  priests.  Yet,  with  no  conscious  irreverence 
did  he  approach  the  altar,  when  he  should  have  lingered  in  the  vestibule 
of  the  temple.  It  was  the  boldness  of  ignorance,  the  self-confidence  of  a 
mind  to  which  the  mysteries  of  life  were  but  slightly  revealed.  It  has  been 
a theme  of  surprise  that  West  should  have  so  long  kept  the  favor  of  his 
royal  patron  ; but  the  wonder  is  at  once  dissipated  if  we  study  his  charac- 
ter. He  was  from  first  to  last  an  American  Quaker, — a being  to  whom  the 
didtates  of  prudence  were  a satisfadtory  law,  and  whose  ideal  of  virtue 
consisted  in  maintaining  a passionless  and  kindly  spirit.  He  sent  home  for 
the  bride  whom  he  had  so  patiently  loved,  when  his  circumstances  justified 
marriage.  He  consulted  the  king  more  frequently  than  any  inward  oracle  ; 
and  when  the  monarch’s  patronage  was  withdrawn,  he  did  not  complain. 
When  between  sixty  and  seventy  years  of  age,  he  commenced  a series  of 
great  works,  quite  too  extensive  ever  to  be  realized.  This  mechanical 
view  of  his  profession,  and  the  complacent  readiness  with  which  it  was 
followed,  accord  with  the  opinions  expressed  in  his  discourses,  where  he 
declares  that  “the  true  use  of  painting  resides  in  assisting  the  reason  to 
arrive  at  a certain  moral  inferences,  by  furnishing  a probable  view  of  the 
effects  of  motives  and  passions.”  The  amount  of  native  enthusiasm  and 
divine  aspiration  that  belonged  to  West,  may  be  inferred  from  this  humble 
and  prosaic  estimate  of  his  own  art. 

Born  in  Springfield,  Pennsylvania,  on  the  10th  of  October,  1738,  his 
demise  occurred  in  London  on  the  nth  of  March,  1820  ; and  rarely  is  so 
long  a life  marked  by  so  much  serene  prosperity  ; in  the  long  retrospect 
he  could  trace  the  dawn  of  art  in  the  New  World  by  his  familiar  experi- 
ence ; for,  during  his  residence  in  London,  he  was  the  resource  and  oracle 
of  his  countrymen  engaged  in  the  same  pursuit ; and  his  career  was 
parallel  with  some  of  the  most  remarkable  events  in  his  country’s  history. 
For  that  country  his  attachment  appears  to  have  been  strong,  notwithstand- 
ing the  court  atmosphere  in  which  he  lived  ; and  he  asked  Sully,  when  that 


West. 


99 

artist  went  to  America,  to  visit  his  native  town,  and  write  him  an  account 
of  its  aspebt  and  condition. 

Tradition  fixes  the  date  of  his  first  attempt  in  painting,  at  the  age  of 
seven  years  ; and  it  is  certain  that  when  about  nine  years  old  he  painted, 
what,  sixty-seven  years  after,  he  pronounced  superior  in  some  of  the 
touches  to  his  mature  works.  The  sight  of  some  engravings  was  a 
revelation  to  the  boy,  and  the  gift  of  a paint-box  an  inspiration.  His 
initiatory  art-experience  is  thus  recorded  : “ Even  after  going  to  sleep 
he  awoke  more  than  once  during  the  night  and  anxiously  put  out  his 
hand  to  the  box,  which  he  had  placed  by  his  bedside,  half  afraid  that 
he  might  find  his  riches  only  a dream.  Next  morning  he  rose  at  break 
of  day,  and,  carrying  his  colors  and  canvas  to  the  garret,  proceeded 
to  work.  Everything  else  was  now  unheeded ; even  his  attendance 
at  school  was  given  up.  As  soon  as  he  got  out  of  the  sight  of  his 
father  and  mother  he  stole  to  his  garret,  and  here  passed  the  hours 
in  a world  of  his  own.  At  last,  after  he  had  been  absent  from  school 
some  days,  the  master  called  at  his  father’s  house  to  inquire  what 
had  become  of  him.  This  led  to  the  discovery  of  his  secret  occupation. 
His  mother,  proceeding  to  the  garret,  found  the  truant  ; but  so  much  was 
she  astonished  and  delighted  by  the  creation  of  his  pencil,  which  also 
met  her  view  when  she  entered  the  apartment,  that,  instead  of  rebuking 
him,  she  could  only  take  him  in  her  arms,  and  kiss  him  with  transports 
of  affebtion.  He  made  a new  composition  of  his  own  out  of  two  of  the 
engravings,  which  he  had  colored  from  his  own  feeling  of  the  proper 
tints  ; and  so  perfebt  did  the  performance  already  appear  to  his  mother, 
that  although  half  the  'canvas  yet  remained  uncovered,  she  would  not 
suffer  him  to  add  another  touch  to  what  he  had  done.  Mr.  Galt,  West’s 
biographer,  saw  the  pibture  in  the  state  in  which  it  had  thus  been  left 
sixty-seven  years  afterwards  ; and  the  artist  himself  used  to  acknowledge 
that  in  none  of  his  subsequent  efforts  had  he  been  able  to  excel  some  of 
the  touches  of  invention  in  this  his  first  essay.” 

While  acquiring  such  elementary  instruction  as  Philadelphia  then 
afforded,  he  painted  “ The  Death  of  Socrates  ” for  a gunsmith — his  first 
figure-piece  ; and  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  returned  to  Springfield,  where  and 
when  the  question  of  his  future  vocation  was  solemnly  discussed  by  his 
family  and  the  Society  of  Friends.  In  West’s  complacent  estimate  of  his 
crude,  childish  experiment  in  art,  and  in  the  ambitious  subjebt  of  his 
boyish  achievement,  we  recognise  those  unawed  and  confident  feelings 
which  stamps  him  in  the  annals  of  art  as  more  dexterous  than  inspired. 
It  his  choice  of  a profession  and  the  sanbtion  it  received  were  anomalies 
of  Quaker  discipline,  not  less  so  was  his  volunteering  as  a recruit  in  the 
old  French  war;  his  services,  however,  consisted  only  of  an  attempt  to 
join  the  remains  of  Braddock’s  army  ; his  martial  ardor  was  as  short- 
lived as  his  artistic  proclivities  were  normal  ; and  we  find  him,  when 
eighteen  years  of  age,  established  in  Philadelphia  as  a portrait  painter, 
and  receiving  “ five  guineas  a head.” 


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American  Aitist  Life. 

It  was  through  the  liberality  of  several  merchants  of  that  city  and  of 
New  York,  that  West  was  enabled  to  visit  Italy  ; his  portrait  of  Lord 
Grantham  and  his  own  story  of  the  pursuit  of  art  under  difficulties, 
excited  much  interest,  and  that  nobleman’s  introduction  facilitated  his 
auspicious  visit  to  England,  where  he  arrived  in  1763.  Encouraged  by 
some  connexions  in  London  to  come,  and  by  influential  patrons  to  re- 
main there,  two  years  after,  he  received  and  married  his  lady-love,  Eliza- 
beth Shewed.  In  the  meantime  he  had  gained  the  esteem  of  many 
associates,  and  was  honored  with  continental  recognition,  being  eleCted 
an  academician  in  Florence,  Bologna,  and  Parma.  His  picture  of  “ Agrip- 
pina Landing  with  the  Ashes  of  Germanicus  ” gained  him  the  favor  of 
George  the  Third,  and  the  commission  to  paint  the  “ Departure  of  Regu- 
lus.”  His  “ Death  of  Wolfe  ” has  been  truly  declared  to  have  created  an 
era  in  English  art  by  the  successful  example  it  initiated  of  the  abandon- 
ment of  classic  costume — a reform  advocated  by  Reynolds,  who  gloried 
in  this  popular  innovation.  West  sketched  or  painted  during  the  last 
forty  years  of  his  life,  at  least  four  hundred  pictures,  many  of  them  large, 
and  he  left  two  hundred  elaborate  drawings.  To  his  remarkable  facility, 
care,  and  taste,  he  united  a singular  intrepidity  unchilled  by  age  ; one  of 
his  best  works  is  the  “ Battle  of  the  Hague,”  for  its  scope  requires  less  posi- 
tive elevation  and  originality  of  genius  than  the  grand  religious  themes 
to  which  he  so  much  inclined.  In  1762  West  succeeded  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds as  President  of  the  Royal  Academy  ; and  when  he  died,  “academic 
correctness”  was  the  ideal  of  piCtorial  art  in  England.  Now  public  taste 
and  artistic  tests  are  more  catholic  ; hence  the  original  exaggeration  of 
West’s  fame.  However  deficient,  upon  aesthetic  analysis,  his  claims  may 
be  to  the  highest  order  of  artistic  genius,  his  reputation  has  a benign, 
conservative  charm  based  upon  reCtitude  and  benevolence  ; exemplary  in 
life,  kindly  in  spirit,  more  than  one  generation  of  American  artists  had 
reason  to  bless  his  memory  : and  among  those  who  gratefully  associate  their 
early  studies  and  precarious  beginnings  of  artist-life  and  work ' with  the 
hospitable  and  wise  encouragement  and  substantial  kindness  of  Benja- 
min West,  are  Pratt,  Trumbull,  Peale,  Malbone,  Dunlap,  Allston,  Sully, 
Morse,  and  Leslie. 

West  commenced  portrait-painting  in  1753,  and  one  of  his  earliest  works 
is  in  the  possession  of  the  Read  family,  of  Delaware,  now  owned  by  J. 
Meredith  Read,  of  Albany,  N.  Y.  He  passed  eleven  months  in  New 
York,  and  was  liberally  employed  by  the  merchants,  among  whose  de- 
scendants are  still  to  be  seen  examples  of  his  early  manner.  Trinity 
Church  owns  his  portrait  of  Bishop  Prevost.  Those  of  Gerardus  Duy- 
kinck  and  his  wife, — nke  Rapelye,  a belle  in  her  day, — full-lengths,  are 
highly  characteristic  specimens  of  West’s  early  portraiture.  They  belong 
to  Mrs.  Lewis,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.  Other  portraits  of  the  same  period, 
from  his  pencil,  are  in  the  Abeel  family,  of  New  York.  One  of  Miss  Eliza- 
beth Anderson,  afterwards  Mrs.  Samuel  Breese,  belongs  to  Thomas  R. 
Walker,  Esq,,  of  Utica,  N.  Y.  Judge  Abbott,  of  Salem,  has  a number  of 


West. 


IOI 


West’s  early  portraits, — his  mother  being  of  the  same  family.  There  is  a 
full-length  of  one  of  his  most  liberal  American  friends,— -General  James 
Hamilton,  of  Bush  Hill,  near  Philadelphia.  In  the  latter  city  are  his  por- 
traits of  Mrs.  Hare,  Professor  Robert  Hare,  and  Rev.  Dr.  Preston,  in  the 
public  library ; and  at  Middleton  Place,  South  Carolina,  before  the  War 
for  the  Union,  the  beautiful  family  group — painted  in  London — of  Arthur 
Middleton,  his  wife,  and  son.  Mr.  Longworth,  of  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  owns 
his  Ophelia  and  Hamlet,  and  the  Boston  Athenaeum  his  Lear.  The  pic- 
ture of  Christ  Healing  the  Sick  is  still  in  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital,  to 
which  institution  it  was  originally  presented  by  the  artist.  In  this  painting, 
the  face  of  the  paralytic  woman  is  said  to  be  a portrait  of  West’s  mother. 
J.  Harrison,  of  Philadelphia,  has  the  picture  of  Christ  Rejected,  and  the 
Death  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney  at  the  Battle  of  Zutphen.  The  same  gentle- 
man is  also  the  possessor  of  West’s  picture  of  Penn’s  Treaty  with  the 
Indians  at  Shackaniaxon,  now  Kensington, — the  scene  representing  the 
founding  of  Pennsylvania,  in  1682.  It  was  purchased  by  the  owner  from 
the  last  representative  of  the  Penn  family,  for  whom  it  was  painted — Gran- 
ville Penn,  Esq.  “ I have  taken  the  liberty,”  wrote  West  to  one  of  his 
family,  in  reference  to  an  engraving  of  this  work,  “ of  introducing  the 
likeness  of  our  father  and  brother  Thomas.  That  is  the  likeness  of  our 
brother  that  stands  immediately  behind  Penn,  leaning  on  his  cane.  I need 
not  point  out  the  picture  of  our  father,  as  I believe  you  will  find  it  in  the 
print  from  memory.”  His  portrait  of  Commodore  Silas  Talbot,  U.  S.  N., 
is  in  the  possession  of  that  officer’s  descendants.  Two  of  his  pictures, 
illustrative  of  scenes  in  the  Iliad,  are  in  the  collection  of  the  New  York 
Historical  Society.  His  Cupid,  also  owned  in  Philadelphia,  is  one  of  his 
best  pictures  as  to  color.  He  made  a sketch  of  Dr.  Franklin,  seated  in 
the  clouds,  and  surrounded  by  naked  boys,  which  was  never  completed. 
His  Death  on  the  Pale  Horse  is  in  the  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Fine 
Arts.  In  the  opinion  of  many  critics,  of  all  West’s  pictures  in  America, 
the  Christ  Rejected  most  effectively  illustrates  his  skill  in  composition, 
drawing,  expression,  and  dramatic  effeCt. 

Among  West’s  paintings  in  England,  the  Pylades  and  Orestes,  one  of 
the  best,  was  also  one  of  the  first  in  what  was  regarded  as  an  innovating 
school  of  art.  Although  the  servants  gained  over  thirty  pounds  for  show- 
it,  no  purchaser  appeared  ; indeed,  such  was  the  prejudice  in  favor  of  the 
u old  masters,”  that  a nobleman,  who  really  admired  this  work,  excused 
hiipself  from  buying  it  on  the  plea  that  it  would  not  do  to  hang  up  a mod- 
ern English  piclure  in  his  house,  unless  it  was  a portrait.  The  Death  of 
Wolfe,  Regulus  a Prisoner  to  the  Carthaginians,  the  Battle  of  La  Hague, 
the  Death  of  Bayard,  Hamilcar  Swearing  the  Infant  Hannibal  at  the  Altar, 
the  Departure  of  Regulus,  and  Agrippina  Landing  with  the  Ashes  of 
Germanicus,  from  Tacitus, — suggested  by  Drummond,  Archbishop  of 
York, — are  among  the  subjects  which  West  treated  in  a characteristic 
manner,  and  were  best  received  ; and  are  still  striking  illustrations  of  his 
artistic  method  and  style.  It  has  been  truly  observed  that  “ his  natural 


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American  Artist  Life. 


endowments  impelled  him  to  paint  history  long  before  he  had  acquired 
the  knowledge  and  skill  of  a draughtsman  but  his  industry  and  zeal 
soon  gave  him  force  and  facility,  in  certain  respeCts  ; so  that  his  first  pic- 
ture in  Rome — the  portrait  of  Robinson,  afterwards  Lord  Grantham — was 
taken  for  a Mengs.  He  assiduously  sketched  groups  and  figures  from  the 
old  masters  while  in  Italy.  The  change  in  British  art,  signalized  by  the 
advent  of  West,  was  slow.  A certain  pedantic  conservatism  opposed  the 
substitution  of  English  for  Greek  and  Roman  subjects.  When  the  Death 
of  Wolfe  was  exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy,  the  multitude,  we  are  told, 
“ acknowledged  its  excellence  at  once  ; but  the  lovers  of  old  art — called 
classical — complained  of  the  barbarism  of  boots,  buttons,  and  blunder- 
busses,  and  cried  out  for  naked  warriors,  with  bows,  bucklers,  and  batter- 
ing-rams.” It  required  some  courage  in  Lord  Grosvenor  to  purchase  the 
work  declared  so  exceptional  by  traditional  amateurs.  Reynolds  and  the 
Archbishop  of  York  called  on  West,  to  remonstrate  against  so  bold  an 
innovation.  His  reply  was  logical — viz.:  that  “ the  event  to  be  commem- 
orated happened  in  the  year  1758,  in  a region  of  the  world  unknown  to 
Greeks  and  Romans,  and  at  a period  when  no  warrior  who  wore  classic 
costume  existed.  The  same  rule  which  gives  law  to  the  historian  should 
rule  the  painter.”  The  king  regretted  he  had  been  anticipated  in  the  pur- 
chase of  the  picture  when,  at  last,  Reynolds  declared:  “West  has  con- 
quered. I foresee  that  this  picture  will  not  only  become  one  of  the  most 
popular,  but  will  occasion  a revolution  in  art.” 

His  color  has  been  objected  to  as  too  exclusively  a “reddish  brown;” 
and,  while  praised  for  freedom  from  exaggeration,  he  seldom  won  admira- 
tion for  expressive  power.  Llis  facility  and  extensive  theoretical  know- 
ledge, his  acquaintance  with  available  expedients,  and  his  regular  industry, 
were  the  great  means  of  his  advancement  as  an  artist ; while  his  thorough 
benevolence,  correCt  habits,  and  self-respedt,  as  effectually  promoted  his 
social  consideration.  The  bland  atmosphere  of  his  early  associations 
and  his  matured  fortunes  seems  to  have  continued  to  the  last,  for  he  died 
at  the  age  of  eighty-two,  without  any  specific  disease,  unimpaired  in  mind 
and  urbane  in  spirit. 

West  relied  upon  general  efifeCts  ; his  ability  lies  in  combination  rather  than 
detail.  He  excites  respeCt,  on  account  of  the  sound  judgment  displayed 
in  his  works.  We  recognize  in  them  a mature  knowledge.  His  aim  seems 
to  have  been  scenic,  and  therefore  he  depends  almost  wholly  upon  the 
spectator’s  first  impression.  Our  feelings  are  not  won  by  degrees  into 
sympathy  with  a great  idea  or  touching  sentiment,  but  attention  is  caught 
by  the  grandeur  of  the  entire  design  and  the  breadth  of  the  scene.  There 
is  no  intense  individuality,  no  concentrated  emotion,  such  as  emanates 
from  those  masterpieces  into  which  the  artist  has  infused  his  very  being. 
We  think  more  of  art  in  general  than  of  the  idiosyncrasies  of  the  painter 
in  contemplating  his  productions,  and  gratify  our  imaginations  by  the 
thought  of  what  a more  inspired  limner  would  have  done  with  such  a com- 
mand of  materials.  Intelligence  is,  indeed,  stamped  upon  his  composi- 


West . 


103 


tions  ; and  if  this  were  the  greatest  human  attribute,  they  would  not  chal- 
lenge inquiry  ; but  we  do  not  feel  that  eleCtric  spirit  and  mysterious  prin- 
ciple which  distinguish  the  offspring  of  genius  from  that  of  talent  and 
industry.  The  point  at  issue  between  the  advocates  of  such  efforts  and 
those  who  lament  their  inadequacy,  is  one  that  has  been  again  and  again 
discussed  in  reference  to  literature.  Perhaps  the  most  striking  instance 
on  record  is  the  controversy  as  to  the  respective  merits  of  Shakspeare  and 
the  French  drama.  Minds  which  the  truthful  and  living  creations  of  the 
English  poet  do  not  render  unconscious  of  his  violation  of  technical  rules, 
we  conceive  to  be  by  nature  incapable  of  appreciating  his  excellencies.  It 
is,  after  all,  a question  of  feeling  ; and  if  those  who  are  content  with  the 
artificial  proprieties  of  Racine,  wonder  at  the  lovers  of  Shakspeare  for 
enduring  his  sins  against  taste  or  probability,  not  less  great  is  the  aston- 
' ishment  of  the  latter  that  one  who  has  ever  felt  the  glow  of  ambition,  the  thrill 
of  love,  or  the  anguish  of  remorse,  could  fail  to  recognize  in  Lear,  Macbeth, 
and  Hamlet,  the  greatest  written  types  of  humanity.  It  is  no  fanciful  distinc- 
tion which  we  desire  to  indicate.  On  the  contrary,  the  principle  at  issue 
underlies  not  only  literature  and  art,  but  manners  and  life.  It  forms  the  true 
difference  between  spontaneous  and  conventional  virtue,  between  etiquette 
and  heartfelt  courtesy,  acquirements  and  wisdom,  the  spirit  and  the  letter 
of  the  law.  Take  an  effusion  of  Dryden  and  one  of  Coleridge, — Alexan- 
der’s feast  and  Genevieve,  for  instance.  In  the  former  we  behold  at  once 
a command  of  language,  a sense  of  rhythm,  a hand  practiced  in  versifica- 
tion, and  apt  in  rhetoric  ; in  the  latter,  we  pause  not  to  consider  these  ex- 
ternal facilities,  because  of  the  beautiful  and  absorbing  sentiment  of  which 
they  are  exponents.  One  we  remember  as  an  elocutionary  exercise,  the 
other  as  a cherished  echo  of  the  sweetest  experience  of  our  hearts.  And 
thus  a Madonna  of  Raphael,  or  a Magdalen  of  Correggio,  conveys  a lively 
consciousness  of  the  feelings  they  represent,  as  if  it  had  been  breathed 
through  color  and  outline.  In  a word,  we  are  magnetized  by  the  holy 
spell  of  maternal  love  or  penitent  grief.  Is  it  thus  with  the  pictures  of 
West?  With  the  events  they  commemorate,  do  we  realize  the  idea  and 
emotion  that  render  them  sacred  ? In  “Christ  healing  the  Sick,”  what 
fixes  the  mind  ? Is  it  the  benign  inspiration  of  the  prominent  figure,  or 
the  awe-stricken  gaze  of  reverence,  and  the  earnest  pleadings  of  human 
affebtion  in  those  that  surround  it?  Is  it  not  rather  the  successful  repre- 
sentation of  physical  suffering,  the  dexterous  grouping,  and  the  effective 
drapery  ? The  sick  man  excites  far  higher  and  more  deserved  admiration 
than  he  by  whose  divine  word  he  is  healed.  It  may  be  argued  that  such  a 
comparison  is  unfair,  inasmuch  as  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome  and  the 
effeCt  to  be  realized  in  the  two  cases  are  quite  diverse.  This  is  but  admit- 
ting West’s  over-estimate  of  his  own  powers.  The  choice  of  a subject 
is  often  as  indicative  of  genius,  or  its  absence,  as  its  development ; and 
the  manner  in  which  West  treated  the  grand  themes  he  selected,  proves 
that  between  them  and  his  mind  there  was  little  affinity.  If  the  picture 
we  are  considering  was  intended  to  portray  a hospital,  to  excite  benevo- 


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American  Artist  Life. 


lence  by  a vivid  representation  of  “ the  ills  the  flesh  is  heir  to,”  it  would 
merit  the  highest  encomiums  ; but  the  acknowledged  purpose  is  far  more 
lofty, — it  professes  to  depidl  the  most  venerated  character  that  ever  lived 
on  earth, — the  exercise  of  the  highest  functions  ever  delegated  to  a being 
in  the  form  of  man, — the  exhibition  of  a sympathy  for  human  sorrow  more 
tender,  comprehensive,  and  profound,  than  was  ever  manifested  in  the 
world.  “To  the  height  of  this  great  argument  ” something  besides  tadt, 
dexterity,  and  skill  in  drawing  and  color  ; something  besides  a knowledge 
of  light  and  shade,  a practiced  hand,  and  a confident  mind,  was  needed. 
An  inspiration  such  as  filled  the  heart  and  imagination  of  the  painter,  and 
involved  the  absorption  of  self  in  the  pathos  and  majesty  of  the  scene, — a 
sympathetic,  as  well  as  an  intelligent  relation  to  the  subject, — alone  would 
justify  and  hallow  such  an  undertaking.  And  it  is  this  very  simplicity — 
this  apparent  unconsciousness  of  conditions  like  these — which  affords  the  ‘ 
best  evidence  of  West’s  comparative  incompetency.  There  is  no  trace  of 
that  solemnity  of  feeling  which  breaks  from  Milton  in  contemplating  his 
great  poem.  It  would  appear  as  if  he  set  about  portraying  miracles  in  a 
spirit  the  most  commonplace  and  familiar.  There  was  no  pluming  of  the 
wings  for  a long  flight, — no  vibration  of  the  harp-strings  preparatory  to  an 
earnest  strain, — no  gathering  up  of  the  waters  ere  the  glorious  march. 
The  cherubim  were  not  invoked  to  impart  their  sacred  fire,  nor  did  the 
hesitancy  of  self-distrust  cause  the  dilated  heart  to  tremble.  It  was  ap- 
parently in  the  mere  spirit  of  honest  industry  and  a good  intention,  that 
our  excellent  painter  grappled  with  the  most  exalted  subjects.  And  yet 
his  self-complacency,  as  a representative  of  art,  was  amusing.  “ I was 
walking,”  he  writes,  “with  Mr.  Fox,  in  the  Louvre,  and  I remarked  how 
many  people  turned  to  look  at  me.  This  shows  the  respedt  of  the  French 
for  the  Fine  Arts.”  If  West  had  one  poetic  instindt,  it  was  implied  in  a 
sensibility  to  the  grand  in  point  of  scale  and  manner.  He  seems  to  have 
conceived  of  art  under  a kind  of  melodramatic  phase.  There  was  some- 
thing noble  in  the  scope  of  his  conceptions.  A magnificent  whole,  a 
bringing  impressively  together  of  forms  and  hues,  was  the  ideal  he  cher- 
ished— for  if  we  take  a single  figure  into  careful  view,  there  is  often  a strik- 
ing want  of  oneness  of  effect.  The  hands  of  the  Saviour  in  the  pidture  we 
have  noticed,  for  example,  do  not  seem  to  involve  the  same  expression  as  the 
chest  ; but  the  figure  itself,  taken  in  connection  with  those  around,  is 
effedtive.  West,  accordingly,  seems  to  have  excelled  in  unity  of  design, 
without  recognizing  that  higher  law,  unity  of  expression  ; and  this,  we 
think,  arose  from  a lack  of  that  soul  of  art  whereby  its  creations  are  both 
harmonized  and  made  vital. 

West’s  ancestors  were  natives  of  Buckinghamshire,  and  one  of  them  a 
companion  in  arms  of  John  Hampden.  As  this  family  claim  diredt  descent 
from  the  Black  Prince,  and  Lord  Delaware,  when  the  artist  was  at  work  on 
his  pidture  of  the  Institution  of  the  Garter,  the  king  was  delighted  when 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham  assured  him  that  West  had  an  ancestral  right  to 
a place  among  the  warriors  and  knights  of  his  own  painting.  His  father 


West. 


105 


was  one  of  the  initiators  of  emancipation,  and  his  mother’s  grandfather 
the  confidential  friend  of  William  Penn.  Thus  signally  favored  in  his  ante- 
cedents, the  circumstances  of  his  early  life  were  also  exceptionally  propi- 
tious, and  have  been  recorded  by  John  Galt,*  from  the  artist’s  own  state- 
ments. According  to  the  superstitious  feeling  of  the  time  and  region,  his 
premature  birth,  occasioned  by  the  over-excitement  at  a religious  revival, 
was  the  presage  of  a remarkable  career  ; then  his  first  experiments  in  art 
from  pigments  given  him  by  the  Indians,  who  taught  the  boy  archery  ; his 
discovery  of  the  principle  of  the  camera  obscura  / the  religious  question 
and  sanction  induced  by  his  exceptional  choice  of  a vocation  in  the  wilds 
of  a new  State,  and  in  the  seclusion  of  a rural  Quaker  community  ; the 
providential  acquisition  of  a paint-box  at  the  age  of  eight,  and,  later,  of  the 
art-writings  of  Fresnoy  and  Richardson  ; his  prophecy  of  future  renown  ; 
the  kindly  aid  extended  so  seasonably  in  Philadelphia  and  New  York,  and 
the  auspicious  debut  of  the  young  artist  at  Rome — form  a series  of  fortu- 
nate circumstances  which  find  their  consummation  in  the  “ courtly  sanc- 
tion ” he  attained  in  England  ; — the  long  and  steady  patronage  of  the  king, 
his  baronetcy,  ample  means,  domestic  happiness,  gracious  fame,  and  serene 
old  age.  West  died  in  his  seventy-ninth  year,  soon  after  his  wife,  their 
union  having  benignly  lasted  half  a century  ; and  was  buried  in  St.  Paul’s 
beside  Reynolds,  Opie,  and  Barry. 

A portrait  of  West  by  Leslie,  after  Lawrence,  and  a beautiful  one  in  his 
latest  years,  by  Allston,  belong  to  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  The  full-length 
portrait  of  the  artist,  by  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  was  obtained  by  a number 
of  gentlemen  of  New  York,  for  the  Academy  of  that  city  ; they  subscribed 
two  thousand  dollars  ; it  was  considered  a perfect  likeness  in  the  face,  but 
somewhat  too  large  and  tall  for  the  figure,  though  finely  composed.  It 
represents  West  in  his  character  as  President  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
delivering  a ledture  to  the  students.  Under  his  right  hand  is  seen,  stand- 
ing on  an  easel,  a copy  of  Raphael’s  cartoon  of  the  Death  of  Ananias. 
The  subjedt  of  the  ledture  is  Coloring,  as  is  indicated  by  the  rainbow-tints 
arranged  on  the  left  side  of  the  pidture, — which  is  now  in  the  Wadsworth 
Gallery  at  Hartford,  Ct. 

Within  a few  months,  at  the  audtion  sale,  in  New  York,  of  a colledtor  of 
old  furniture,  china,  and  pidtures,  a portrait  of  West  from  his  own  hand, 
taken  apparently  at  about  the  age  of  forty,  three-quarter-length,  and  in 
Quaker  costume,  was  sold  for  three  hundred  dollars. 

Leigh  Hunt,  whose  mother  was  a relative  of  the  artist,  says,  that  “ the 
appearance  of  West  was  so  gentlemanly  that  the  moment  he  changed  his 
gown  for  a coat  he  seemed  to  be  full  dressed.  The  simplicity  and  self- 
possession  of  the  young  Quaker,  not  having  time  enough  to  grow  stiff, — for 
he  went  early  to  Rome, — took  up,  I suppose,  with  more  ease  than  most 
would  have  done,  the  urbanities  of  his  new  position.  Yet  this  man,  so  well 
bred,  and  so  indisputably  clever  in  his  art,  whatever  might  be  the  amount 


* The  Life,  Studies,  and  Works  of  Benjamin  West.  By  John  Galt.  London  : 1820. 


io  6 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  his  genius,  had  received  a homely  or  careless  education,  and  pronounced 
some  of  his  words  with  a puritanical  barbarism  ; he  would  talk  of  his  art 
all  day ; there  were  strong  suspicions  of  his  leaning  to  his  native  side  in 
politics,  and  he  could  not  restrain  his  enthusiasm  for  Bonaparte  ; how  he 
managed  these  matters  with  the  higher  powers  in  England  I cannot  say.” 
As  an  artist,  “indefatigable  application  ” was  his  distinction,  which  re- 
sulted in  numerous  and  noble  compositions,  of  which  the  technical  faults 
most  frequently  recognized  are  “ dryness  of  manner  ” and  “ hardness  of 
outline.”  A writer  in  Blackwood’s  Magazine  estimates  the  number  of 
West’s  pictures  at  three  thousand  ; and  Dunlap  says  that  a gallery  capable 
of  holding  them,  would  be  four  hundred  feet  in  length,  fifty  in  breadth,  and 
forty  in  height,  or  a wall  ten  feet  high  and  a quarter  of  a mile  long.  In 
regard  to  the  sacred  subjecls  of  West,  Cunningham  declares  that  the  list 
“ makes  one  shudder  at  human  presumption  ; ” among  them  are  u Moses 
receiving  the  Law  on  Mount  Sinai  ; ” “ The  Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
on  the  Saviour  in  the  Jordan  ; ” The  Opening  of  the  Seventh  Seal  in  the 
Revelations ; ” “ Saint  Michael  and  his  Angels  casting  out  the  Great 
Dragon  ; ” “ The  mighty  Angel  with  one  foot  on  the  Sea,  and  the  other  on 
the  Earth  ; ” and  “ The  ResurreCtion.”  It  was  with  a different  inspiration 
that  the  old  masters  dealt  with  such  themes  ; a holy  sense  of  beauty  gives 
divine  grace  to  Raphael,  and  sacred  grandeur  to  Angelo.  West  lacked 
imagination  and  reverence,  but  not  conscience  or  skill ; hence  the  senti- 
ment is  so  inadequate  while  the  technical  excellence  is  often  great : given 
the  appropriate  subjeCt,  and  our  sense  of  the  effective  is  fully  gratified  ; but 
in  the  more  exalted  subjects  we  feel  with  Cunningham  that  “the  coldness 
of  his  imagination  nipped  the  blossoms  of  history.”* 

“ The  farm-house  at  Springfield,  just  beyond  Darby,”  wrote  Galt,  fifty 
years,  ago,  “in  which  he  first  saw  the  light,  still  stands,  an  objeCt  of  vener- 
ation to  those  who  are  curious  in  such  matters.”  When  we  conneCt,  in 
fancy,  West’s  humble  birthplace  with  his  cathedral  tomb,  and  revive  the 
details  of  his  life,  we  recognize  a singular  exception  to  the  fortunes  of  our 
early  native  artists,  most  of  whom  had  so  long  a conflict  with  adverse 
circumstances.  Indeed,  the  comfort  he  enjoyed  may  somewhat  account 
for  the  absence  of  intensity  and  aspiration  in  his  genius  ; spirituality  is 
the  offspring  of  deep  experience  ; he  suffered  no  trying  ordeal — he  was  not 
disciplined  and  elevated  by  the  battle  of  life  : his  success  was  too  easily 
achieved  ; order,  calmness,  and  regularity  marked  his  experience  not  less 
than  his  character.  It  is  an  anomalous  faCt  in  American  artist-life  that 
our  earliest  painter  was  the  most  prosperous. 

* Lives  of  British  Sculptors,  Painters,  and  Architects.  By  Allan  Cunningham.  3 vols.  New 
York:  1832-34. 


STUART. 


HARLES  GILBERT  STUART  was  born  in  Narragan- 
sett,  R.  I.,  in  1756,  and  died  at  Boston  in  1828.  A recent 
visitor  to  his  natal  spot  thus  describes  the  locality  : “At 

the  head  of  Petaquamscott  Pond,  in  Rhode  Island,  shut 
in  on  all  sides  but  the  south  by  hills,  stands  a high,  old- 
fashioned,  gambrel-roofed,  low-portaled,  and  massive  house, 
wearing  the  appearance  of  a good  old  age.  Here  was  the  birthplace 
and  early  home  of  Gilbert  Stuart. 

“ We  entered  the  house  on  the  west  by  a door  level  with  the  top  of  the 
bank,  which  slopes  so  rapidly  to  the  east  as  to  allow  of  a basement  on 
that  side  wholly  out  of  ground,  and  now  given  up  to  the  pigs  and  poultry 
raised  on  the  place.  There  is  little  to  attract  attention  on  either  floor. 
The  ceilings  are  low,  the  fireplace  wide  and  flaring,  and  the  stairs  are 
both  steep  and  contracted.  For  the  asking,  one  may  see  the  room  in 
which  the  painter  first  saw  the  light,  and,  having  surveyed  a spot  so  full 
of  interest,  we  turned  to  the  surroundings  of  the  house.  These  have 
undergone  but  slight  change  since  the  time  when  the  youthful  Gilbert 
climbed  the  trees  that  bend  to  kiss  the  little  stream  in  which  his  naked 
limbs  were  often  laved.  The  bream  and  perch  that  rise  to  catch  the 
crumbs  we  cast  upon  the  water  are  no  less  tame,  and  quite  as  innocent  of 
the  angler’s  hook,  and  the  sun  plays  hide-and-seek  the  same  in  the  thick 
wood  that  makes  a fitting  background  to  the  scene.” 

Shortly  before  his  death  Stuart  visited  Newport  for  the  last  time,  and 
crossed  the  ferries  to  look  at  his  old  home  ; in  the  northeast  bedroom  he 
said  to  his  companion  : “ In  this  room  my  mother  always  told  me  I was 
born.” 

The  record  of  Stuart’s  baptism,  in  the  handwriting  of  Rev.  Mr.  Mc- 
Sparran,  Episcopal  Missionary  to  the  Narragansett  Church,  is  preserved 
in  the  old  register.*  His  father  married  a daughter  of  Captain  John 
Anthony,  a Welsh  emigrant  to  Rhode  Island,  a prosperous  farmer,  who 
occupied  and  afterward  sold  to  Dean  Berkeley  the  farm  near  the  Hanging 
Rocks  of  the  second  beach  known  as  Whitehall.  Stuart  ft  ere  was  a tory, 


* Updyke’s  History  of  the  Narragansett  Church. 


American  Artist  Life. 


10S 

and  removed  to  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  where  his  daughter  married 
Henry  Newton,  Collector  of  his  Majesty’s  Customs.  They  were  the 
parents  of  Stewart  Newton,  the  artist.  Mrs.  Stuart  was  a handsome  wo- 
man ; her  son  Gilbert  was  named  Gilbert  Charles  Stuart  in  accordance 
with  his  father’s  Jacobite  affinities  ; but  he  dropped  the  middle  name,  and 
also  the  manner  of  spelling  Stewart  which  at  one  time  prevailed.  He 
was  but  thirteen  years  of  age  when  he  began  to  copy  pictures  ; then  he 
attempted  likenesses  in  black-lead.  In  the  year  1770,  Cosmo  Alexander, 
a Scotch  artist,  between  fifty  and  sixty,  visited  America  for  political  rea- 
sons ; he  was  in  ill-health,  and  apparently  no  enthusiast  in  his  art;  he 
gave  Stuart  his  first  lessons,  and  after  a brief  sojourn  in  Rhode  Island; 
visited  the  South,  and  then  returned  to  Scotland,  taking  the  young  artist 
with  him.  He  died  soon  after,  and  left  his  pupil  to  the  care  of  Sir  George 
Chambers.  Stuart  returned  home,  after  a trying  ordeal  among  strangers, 
and  spoke  of  this  episode  of  his  life  as  one  of  great  hardship  and  little 
progress.  He  was  educated  at  the  grammar  school  of  Newport,  and 
passed  much  of  his  time  at  the  farm  of  his  grandfather.  On  his  second 
visit  to  Great  Britain,  when  his  talent  had  become  manifest,  he  was  greatly 
disappointed  to  find  his  prospers  in  Ireland — whither  he  went  expressly 
to  paint  the  likeness  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  then  Lord  Lieutenant — 
overshadowed  by  the  death  of  that  nobleman  ; but  he  soon  found  both 
employment  and  appreciation  from  the  resident  nobility,  and  on  his  re- 
turn to  London,  his  portraits  exhibited  in  the  Royal  Academy  won  him 
reputation  and  eligible  orders,  so  that,  after  a hard  struggle,  his  position 
in  art  was  recognized  and  his  prosperity  assured.  He  married  Charlotte 
Coates,  of  Reading,  in  the  county  of  Berkshire.  Among  his  earliest 
London  portraits  were  those  of  Drs.  Fothergill  and  Letsom.  He  came 
back  to  America  in  order  to  paint  Washington,  declining  his  brother-in- 
law’s  invitation  to  visit  Halifax  in  a British  ship  of  war  to  execute  a por- 
trait of  the  Duke  of  Kent. 

Thus  Stuart  began  the  pradlice  of  his  art  at  Newport,  R.  I.;  at  the  age 
of  eighteen  was  taken  to  Edinburgh  ; and  in  1781  commenced  a highly 
successful  professional  career  in  London,  where  he  resided  for  a con- 
siderable period  with  Benjamin  West,  of  whom  he  painted  an  excellent 
full-length  portrait  ; among  other  likenesses  of  celebrated  men  of  the  day 
there  achieved,  were  those  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  John  Kemble,  Barre, 
and  Alderman  Boydell.  Having  passed  some  time  in  Dublin  and  Paris 
prosperously  occupied,  he  executed,  while  in  the  latter  city,  a portrait  of 
Louis  XVI. 

Stuart  returned  to  America  in  1793,  and  resided  alternately  in  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  Washington,  and  Boston,  in  each  of  which  cities  may 
be  found  memorable  exemplars  of  his  skill,  among  the  most  highly  valued 
family  portraits  in  the  country.  After  several  years  passed  at  the  capital, 
he  took  up  his  abode  in  Boston  in  1806,  and  remained  there  until  his 
decease.  Among  his  many  admirable  portraits  of  eminent  Americans, 
those  of  Washington,  John  Adams,  Jefferson,  Madison,  and  Monroe,  are 


Stuart. 


109 


well  known,  and  have  been  often  engraved.  The  distinguished  men  of 
the  revolution,  and  the  leading  merchants,  divines,  gentlemen,  and  belles 
of  his  day,  still  live  in  the  vigorous  outlines  and  unrivalled  flesh-tints  of 
his  masterly  hand.  One  of  his  latest  works  was  a portrait  of  John 
Ouincy  Adams,  which  he  did  not  live  to  complete,  and  the  finishing 
touches  were  given  by  Sully. 

A catalogue  of  Stuart’s  pictures  is  a desideratum  ; one  was  prepared 
some  years  ago,  but  is  lost.  We  can  but  indicate  some  of  his  American 
portraits.  In  1793  he  painted  admirable  likenesses  of  the  Pollock  and 
Yates  families  ; Plon.  John  Jay  twice — one  portrait  is  at  Bedford,  West- 
chester Co.,  in  the  possession  of  the  grandson  and  namesake  of  the  original, 
and  the  other  in  that  of  Henry  E.  Pierrepont,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.  ; General 
Clarkson  and  Colonel  Giles  live  in  his  vivid  portraiture  ; two  of  his  ear- 
liest are  the  likenesses  of  John  and  Mrs.  Bannister,  in  the  Redwood  Library 
at  Newport,  R.  I.,  but  they  bear  little  trace  of  his  mature  style.  His  por- 
trait of  Gov.  Oliver  Wolcott  is  in  the  Wadsworth  Gallery,  Hartford,  Ct.  ; 
that  of  General  Gates  is  a fine  specimen  ; so  are  those  of  William  Wells,  of 
Cambridge,  Rev.  Dr.  Gardiner,  of  Boston,  and  James  Otis,  of  New  York  ; 
Mrs.  Lee,  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Lucpieer,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I. ; Bishop  Cliev- 
erus  ; and  of  Geo.  Gibbs,  in  possession  of  his  widow,  New  York.  His  portraits 
of  Lawrence  and  Mrs.  Yates,  painted  in  179 7,  and  of  Andrew  Dexter,  of 
Boston-  (1806),  belong  to  Ward  LIunt,  Esq.,  of  Utica,  N.  Y.  ; Mrs.  Erving, 
of  New  York,  has  his  fine  likeness  of  Sir  Henry  Baker  ; in  the  Baltimore 
Historical  Society  is  Madame  Bonaparte’s  portrait — three  heads  on  one 
canvas — front,  three-quarters,  and  profile  ; the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society  have  a portrait  of  Jeremiah  Allen,  and  an  unfinished  one  of  Ed- 
ward Everett  ; Rev.  John  Parkman,  of  Boston,  has  good  exemplars  of 
Stuart  in  the  portraits  of  his  parents  ; there  is  a second  one  there,  in  his 
early  style,  of  Mrs.  Swan  ; James  Lenox,  of  New  York,  owns  five  charac- 
teristic pictures  from  the  same  pencil ; Sullivan  Dorr,  of  Providence,  R.  I., 
has  a striking  portrait  of  his  mother,  by  Stuart  ; there  is  one  there,  also, 
of  Dr.  Wayland  ; and  Philadelphia  is  especially  rich  in  admirable  works 
of  this  master.  His  portrait  of  Mrs.  Greenleaf,  a belle  of  that  city  in  the 
days  of  the  Revolution,  fascinated  Thackeray  ; those  of  the  beautiful  Mrs, 
Bingham,  of  Rev.  Wm.  Smith,  Gen.  Mifflin,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pennington  ; 
of  Lord  and  Lady  Ashburton  ; of  Horace  Binney,  Bishop  White,  Alexan- 
der Dallas  ; of  the  Spring,  Clymer,  Peters,  Willing,  Jackson,  Plumstead, 
and  McKean  families,  in  the  possession  of  their  descendants,  are  among 
the  best  portraits  for  character,  color,  and  vital  truth.  In  New  York, 
Stuart’s  portraits  of  Robert  and  Mrs.  Morris,  and  of  Judge  Egbert 
Benson,  are  memorable  and  characteristic  ; the  portrait  of  Captain 
Anthony,  for  vigor,  vividness,  and  expression,  is  an  artistic  study  ; it 
belongs  to  Professor  Wolcott  Gibbs,  of  Cambridge,  Mass.  The  Boston 
Athenaeum  owns  his  portrait  of  Commodore  Hull ; at  Worcester,  Mass, 
are  three  of  his  pictures,  likenesses  of  the  Salisbury  family.  Henry  C. 
Carey,  of  Philadelphia,  has  his  fine  portrait  of  Mrs.  Blodgett ; Harvard  Col- 


I 10 


American  Artist  Life. 


lege  owns  a good  one  of  Justice  Story,  presented  by  the  artist,*  and  others 
of  President  Kirkland,  Samuel  Elliot,  and  Rev.  J.  S.  Buckminster.  Stuart 
left  several  unfinished  heads  much  prized  by  art-students  as  indicative  of 
his  method  of  painting  ; among  them  is  a head  belonging  to  G.  W.  Riggs, 
of  Washington  ; one  in  the  N.  Y.  Academy  of  Design  ; one  of  Coun- 
sellor Dunn,  of  which  the  completed  copy  is  in  the  Boston  Athenaeum  ; 
and  one  of  Mrs.  Perez  Morton,  of  Massachusetts,  belonging  to  Ernest  Tuck- 
erman.  Stuart's  portrait  of  Mrs.  John  Forrester,  a sister  of  Judge  Story, 
and  owned  by  Mrs.  Forrester,  of  Salem,  Mass,  is  one  of  his  best  works  ; 
the  flesh  coloring  and  finish  are  superior ; the  artist  was  interested  in  this 
picture,  because  he  was  struck  with  the  resemblance  of  the  original  to  his 
old  friend,  Lady  West,  the  wife  of  Sir  Benjamin.  While  engaged  on  this 
portrait  Stuart  was  seized  with  his  last  illness  ; and  after  his  death  his 
daughter  Jane  painted  the  drapery.  There  are  other  notable  works  of 
Stuart  in  Essex  county  ; the  portrait  of  Col.  T.  Pickering  belongs  to  Miss 
Mary  Pratt,  of  Boston  ; that  of  Mrs.  Story,  to  her  son  William,  the  artist. 
There  are  five  good  Stuarts  in  the  possession  of  the  Robbins  family,  of 
Roxbury,  Mass.  At  the  Manchester  exhibition  the  portrait  of  Dr.  Priestley, 
from  his  pencil,  was  much  admired  ; and  those  of  Admiral  Lord  Rodney, 
Hon.  Mr.  Grant,  Lord  St.  Vincent,  and  Lady  Clive,  are  highly  estimated  in 
England.  But  the  works  of  Stuart  are  too  widely  scattered  on  both  sides 
of  the  ocean  to  be  easily  enumerated.  They  include  some  of  the  most 
satisfactory  and  inimitable  pictures  from  life  of  modern  times  ; but  as  a 
series  or  collection  they  are  necessarily  of  unequal  merit : like  eloquence, 
as  defined  by  Webster,  this  branch  of  art,  in  its  highest  phase,  seems  to 
exist  “ in  the  man,  the  subjeCt,  and  the  occasion  ; ” the  painter’s  mood,  the 
sitter’s  character,  and  the  circumstances  influenced  the  limner’s  hand  ; his 
early  style  was  delicate,  pure,  and  very  effective  ; some  of  his  later  works 
have  the  paint  laid  on  thicker — they  are  full  of  power,  but  less  interesting. 

Stuart  early  established  a peculiar  fame,  based  upon  his  flesh-coloring, 
(which,  by  general  consent,  was  esteemed  the  best  of  any  modern  school,) 
and  upon  his  marvellous  power  of  distinguishing  “ the  individual  from  the 
conventional,” — in  which  respeCt  Allston  declared  him  peerless  in  his  own 
branch  of  art  While  thus  superior  and  complete  in  the  essentials  of  por- 
traiture, Stuart  bestowed  little  care  upon  accessories  ; and  many  of  his 
works  have  an  unfinished  air,  except  in  the  heads.  He  once  illustrated 
his  views  of  high  finish,  as  regards  the  texture  of  costume,  by  placing  a 
shawl  on  the  back  of  a chair,  and  asking  a visitor,  with  whom  he  discussed 
the  subject,  whether,  at  the  distance  of  a few  feet,  he  received  any  but  a 
general  impression  of  the  hue  and  form — arguing  that  minute  imitation  of 
drapery  was  unnatural.  “Nature,”  he  said,  “does  not  color  in  streaks. 
Look  at  my  hand  ; see  how  the  colors  are  mottled  and  mingled,  yet  clear 
as  silver.”  On  the  other  hand,  no  artist  has  caught  with  more  truth,  or 
delineated  with  more  power,  the  expression  and  character  of  the  physi- 
ognomy and  the  temperament.  Many  a beautiful  woman  and  venerable 

* Life  and  Letters  of  Judge  Story,  Vol.  ii.,  p.  555. 


Stuart . 


1 1 1 


statesman  of  the  Republic  yet  exist  to  the  eyes  of  this  generation — known, 
the  one  in  all  her  blooming  loveliness,  and  the  other  in  all  his  characteristic 
features  and  form,  upon  Stuart’s  vivid  canvas.  A good  idea  of  his  method 
may  be  attained  by  examining  the  unfinished  heads  ; herein  we  recognize 
the  freedom  and  force  of  his  touch,  and  the  original  manner  in  which  he 
combined  and  disposed  of  tints,  to  reproduce  the  very  effects  of  nature. 
No  portraits  better  preserve  their  hues  and  expression  than  those  of  Stuart. 
When  the  subject  is  favorable,  and  the  picture  cared  for  with  the  least  at- 
tention, there  is  a living,  fresh  reality  about  them  which  captivates  or 
impresses  the  spectator  with  an  almost  magnetic  attraction  and  human 
individuality.  We  seem  to  know  the  person  represented,  and  to  feel  an 
aCtual  presence  and  character,  as  if  somewhat  of  the  will  and  experience, 
the  sympathies  and  traits  of  the  original,  had  been  vitally  communicated 
to  pigment  and  outline.  One  of  the  most  striking  illustrations  of  this 
power  of  Stuart’s  pencil  was  related  to  me  by  a lady  nearly  connected 
with  him.  She  had  occasion  to  visit  Trumbull’s  studio,  during  the  latter 
years  of  that  artist’s  life,  and  it  so  happened  that,  when  she  noiselessly 
entered  the  room,  Trumbull  was  intently  occupied  with  a portrait  of  him- 
self, painted  in  his  younger  days  by  Stuart,  who  visited  him  for  the  pur- 
pose when  a prisoner-of-war  in  London.  He  had  just  obtained  possession 
of  this  long-lost  and  long-coveted  trophy,  had  placed  it  upon  his  easel, 
and,  seated  before  this  “counterfeit  presentment”  of  his  former  self,  was 
so  interested  in  the  train  of  thought  it  excited,  that  he  unconsciously  solilo- 
quized. Concealed  by  a screen  before  the  door,  and  at  first  hesitating  to 
enter,  from  an  impression  that  the  artist  was  conversing  with  a visitor,  the 
lady’s  attention  was  caught  by  the  name  of  Stuart,  and  she  paused  silently. 
Trumbull  was  carried  back  to  the  most  eventful  days  of  his  early  life  and 
to  his  consciousness  of  old,  by  the  sight  of  this  picture  of  himself,  painted 
by  such  a master  and  under  such  memorable  circumstances.  “ Stuart,” 
he  exclaimed,  as  he  gazed,  “ was  indeed  a great  painter.  I may  not  be  a judge 
of  this  likeness, — they  say  no  one  is  of  his  own, — but  this  I know,  that  face 
looks  exaCtly  as  I felt  then,  when  Stuart  used  to  come  and  greet  me 
through  the  prison-bars  as  Bridewell  Jack.” 

Stuart  was  in  Boston  at  the  time  of  the  battle  of  Lexington,  and  there 
painted  his  grandmother  from  memory,  and  his  own  portrait — the  only  one 
he  ever  took  of  himself.  Dr.  Waterhouse  says  : “ It  was  painted  in  his 
freest  manner,  and  with  a Rubens  hat.  In  his  best  days  Stuart  need  not 
have  been  ashamed  of  it.  ” John  Neagle  painted  a very  good  likeness  ot 
Stuart,  as  he  appeared  in  his  later  years  ; it  is  in  the  possession  of  the 
Boston  Athenaeum.  James  M.  Falconer,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  has  a pen- 
and-ink  likeness  of  Stuart,  by  himself.  It  is  on  the  back  of  a letter  ad- 
dressed to  Mr.  Bennett,  then  Curator  of  the  Academy  of  Design.  Little 
more  than  an  outline,  it  is  characteristic,  with  a striking  device  underneath. 
The  best  recognition  has  attended  Stuart.  His  portrait  of  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  was  selected  to  be  engraved  for  the  first  elegant  edition  of  that 
artist’s  lectures  ; he  was  requested  to  paint  a head  of  himself  for  the 


I 12 


American  Artist  Life. 


Florence  Gallery.  Sully,  when  he  finished  Stuart’s  last  portrait,  declined 
to  touch  the  head,  saying  : “ It  would  be  little  better  than  sacrilege.”  “ He 
seemed,”  wrote  Allston,  “to  dive  into  the  thoughts  of  men,  for  they  were 
made  to  live  and  speak  on  the  surface.”  In  his  happier  efforts,  no  one 
ever  surpassed  him  in  embodying,  if  we  may  so  speak,  the  transient  ap- 
parition of  the  soul.  Allston  has  well  emphasized  his  traits  : “ Gilbert 
Stuart  was,  in  its  widest  sense,  a philosopher  in  his  art.  He  thoroughly 
understood  its  principles,  as  his  works  bear  witness,  whether  as  to  har- 
mony of  colors,  or  of  lines,  or  of  light  and  shadow — showing  that  ex- 
quisite sense  of  a whole  which  only  a man  of  genius  can  realize  and 
embody.  Of  this,  not  the  least  admirable  instance  is  his  portrait  of  John 
Adams,  whose  bodily  tenement,  at  the  time,  seemed  rather  to  present  the 
image  of  a dilapidated  castle,  than  the  habitation  of  the  unbroken  mind  ; 
but  not  such  is  the  picture.  Called  forth  from  its  crumbling  recesses,  the 
living  tenant  is  there,  still  ennobling  the  ruin,  and  upholding  it,  as  it  were, 
by  the  strength  of  his  inner  life.”  It  is  said  that  incipient  insanity  was 
foreshadowed  in  one  of  his  portraits  ; and  it  is  certain  that,  to  the  eye  of 
love  and  knowledge,  he  often  revealed  the  most  latent  individuality. 

Stuart’s  genius  was  eminently  practical.  There  are  two  very  distinCt 
processes  by  which  superior  abilities  manifest  themselves — that  of  intel- 
ligence, and  that  of  impulse.  As  great  military  achievements  are  realized 
equally  through  self-possession  and  daring,  skill  and  bravery,  foresight 
and  enthusiasm,  the  calmness  of  a Washington  and  the  impetuosity  of  a 
Murat,  literary  and  artistic  results  owe  their  efficiency  to  a like  diversity 
of  means.  The  basis  of  Allston’s  power  was  a love  of  beauty  — that  of 
Stuart’s,  acuteness  ; the  one  possessed  delicate,  the  other  strong  percep- 
tion ; one  was  inspired  by  ideality,  and  the  other  by  sense.  Hence  Stuart 
has  been  justly  called  a philosopher  in  his  art.  He  seized  upon  the  essen- 
tial, and  scorned  the  adventitious.  He  was  impressed  with  the  conviction 
that  as  a portrait  painter  it  was  his  business  to  deal  frankly  with  nature, 
and  not  suffer  her  temporary  relations  to  interfere  with  his  aim.  Hence 
his  well-known  pertinacity  in  seeking  absolute  expression,  and  giving  bold 
general  effeCts — authentic  hints  rather  than  exquisitely-wrought  details. 
Hence,  too,  his  amusing  impatience  at  everything  factitious  and  irrelevant. 
A young  physician,  now  a venerable  man,  whom  he  desired  to  paint  in 
remuneration  for  professional  services,  told  me  that  he  made  a studied  toi- 
let, and  with  a deep  sense  of  the  importance  of  the  occasion,  appeared 
punctually  at  the  hour  designated.  Stuart  was  prepared  to  receive  him — 
canvas,  throne  and  palette  all  arranged.  To  his  visitor’s  surprise,  however, 
after  surveying  him  a moment,  he  deliberately  seated  himself  and  com- 
menced a series  of  those  interesting  narrations  for  which  he  was  celebrat- 
ed. Time  flew  by,  and  the  annoyed  Esculapius  heard  the  hour  chimed 
when  he  should  be  with  his  expeCtant  patients.  At  length  he  ventured 
upon  the  dangerous  experiment  of  interrupting  the  irascible  but  fluent 
artist.  “ Mr.  Stuart,  this  is  very  entertaining,  but  you  must  be  aware  that 
my  time  is  precious.  I feel  very  uncomfortable.”  “ I am  very  glad  of  it,” 


Stuart. 


1 13 

replied  Stuart;  “I  have  felt  so  ever  since  you  entered  my  studio.” 
“ Why  ? ” “ Because  you  look  so  like  a fool.  Disarrange  that  fixed-up 
costume,  and  I will  go  to  work.”  His  sitter,  feeling  the  justice  of  the 
rebuke,  pulled  off  his  stiff  cravat,  passed  his  hand  through  his  hair,  and 
threw  himself  laughing  into  an  eas)  attitude.  “ There,”  said  the  painter, 
catching  up  his  brush  with  alacrity,  and  quite  restored  to  good-nature  by 
the  metamorphosis,  “ now  you  look  like  yourself.”  This  anecdote  illus- 
trates a great  principle  upon  which  Stuart  habitually  aCted,  and  to  which 
is  attributable  much  of  his  success.  He  sought  expression  in  the  intervals 
of  self-consciousness,  and  considered  no  small  part  of  the  art  of  portraiture 
to  consist  in  making  the  subjeCt  forget  himself.  He  ventured  even  to 
irritate  Washington  by  intentional  unpunCtuality,  in  order  to  enliven  his 
serene  countenance  by  a glow  of  displeasure,  which  he  seized  with  avidity. 
To  this  end  he  cultivated  his  powers  of  observation  and  memory,  and  stu- 
died human  nature  with  as  much  zeal  as  art.  He  sought  a command  of 
the  original  elements  of  expression,  and  endeavored  by  exciting  idiosyn- 
crasies to  bring  out  the  character,  until  eye,  lip,  and  air  most  eloquently 
betrayed  the  predominant  spirit  of  the  man  ; and  this,  when  transferred  to 
the  canvas,  alone  realized  his  idea  of  a portrait. 

A Scotch  gentleman — one  of  those  quaint  disciples  of  Boerhaave,  who 
were  among  the  original  settlers— undertook  to  practice  the  healing  art 
among  the  Quaker  colonists  of  Rhode  Island,  but  neither  his  manners, 
dress,  nor  turn  of  mind  assimilated  with  their  severe  philosophy  ; and  in 
considering  the  most  available  expedient  within  his  power  to  insure  a sup- 
port, it  occurred  to  him  that  the  large  quantity  of  snuff  annually  imported 
from  Glasgow  was  a guarantee  that  the  article  might  be  profitably  manu- 
factured here.  Accordingly,  a sequestered  rivulet,  at  which  the  Pequod 
warriors  had  often  drank  before  they  were  dispossessed  of  Narragansett, 
Tvas  chosen  as  the  site  of  the  experiment.  It  appears  that  there  was  not 
sufficient  mechanical  skill  in  the  colony  to  ereCt  the  mill,  and  the  clodtor 
sent  home  for  one  of  his  thrifty  countrymen  experienced  in  the  business. 
The  new  emigrant  was  the  father  of  Gilbert  Stuart,  and  hence  the  habit 
thus  early  acquired  of  taking  snuff,  which  copiously  sprinkled  his  linen, 
and,  as  in  the  case  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  was  ever  resorted  to  in  the 
intervals  of  story-telling,  at  the  conclusion  of  a witty  rejoinder,  or  as  he 
leaned  back  from  his  easel  to  observe  the  effeCt  of  an  hour’s  limning. 

There  was  in  Stuart’s  character  something  of  the  dogmatic  spirit  which 
belonged  to  Dr.  Johnson.  Indeed,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  establish  a 
striking  parallel  between  the  two.  Decided  talent,  fertility  in  conversa- 
tion, inveterate  prejudice,  a rough  exterior,  and  a marked  individuality, 
distinguished  alike  the  artist  and  the  author,  and  it  is  curious  to  note  how 
spontaneously  they  fell  into  an  antagonistic  position  when  chance  brought 
them  together.  Stuart,  while  a student  in  London,  was  accidentally  intro- 
duced to  Johnson,  who,  coolly  expressing  his  surprise  that  an  American 
should  be  so  apt  in  his  vernacular,  asked  the  youth  where  he  learned  such 
good  English.  “Not  in  your  dictionary,  sir,”  was  the  indignant  reply. 

8 


American  Artist  Life. 


1 14 

Easily  won  by  agreeable  companionship,  which  formed  his  principal 
delight,  and  of  a really  kind  disposition  at  heart,  his  self-esteem  instantly 
resented  the  slightest  wound.  His  pride  of  opinion  and  a sense  of  the 
dignity  of  his  vocation,  or  rather  of  the  geniys  of  which,  in  his  best  days, 
it  was  the  exponent,  caused  him  to  resent  summarily  anything  that  might 
be  construed  into  a personal  affront.  A family  of  distinction  having 
ordered  a portrait  of  one  of  its  leading  members,  and  capriciously  delayed 
the  promised  remuneration,  he  had  the  picture  fitted  as  a door  to  his  pig- 
sty ; and  when  Cooke,  the  tragedian,  fell  asleep  in  his  studio,  he  substituted 
an  ass’s  ears  for  those  of  the  great  aCtor  in  the  likeness.  The  main  obsta- 
cles against  which  Stuart  had  to  contend  throughout  his  career  were  his 
own  perversity  and  imprudence.  In  every  exigency  in  his  affairs,  the  best- 
devised  plans  which  friendship  or  benevolence  undertook  in  his  behalf, 
were  contravened  by  the  artist’s  wilfulness,  and  thus  many  sincerely  inte- 
rested in  his  welfare  were  alienated.  While  abroad,  in  early  life,  and  espe- 
cially during  a jovial  sojourn  in  Ireland,  he  acquired  convivial  habits  which 
sometimes  interfered  essentially  with  his  professional  success.  If  his 
vigorous  intellect  had  been  sustained  by  methodical  industry,  there  would 
have  been  more  equality  in  his  efforts  and  less  vicissitude  in  his  fortunes. 
But  the  social  man  and  the  devotee  of  art  were  at  frequent  war,  although 
perhaps  there  never  was  an  instance  where  the  one  was  so  happily  made 
subsidiary  to  the  other.  His  talk  “ drew  the  soul  to  the  surface.”  He  was 
a proficient  in  knowledge  of  character ; and  whether  statesman  or  mariner, 
soldier  or  agriculturist  occupied  the  chair,  he  discussed  political  affairs, 
dangers  by  flood  and  field,  or  the  state  of  crops,  with  such  zest  and  so  many 
attractive  illustrations  from  his  store  of  anecdote,  that  each  auditor  in 
turn  became  perfectly  at  home,  and  exhibited  his  most  characteristic 
appearance.  Alternately  residing  in  the  principal  cities  of  America,  after 
a visit  to  Great  Britain,  he  enjoyed  familiar  intercourse  with  the  leading 
minds  of  the  day,  on  both  sides  of  the  water.  Obliged  at  one  time  to 
become  an  organist  in  London  for  bare  subsistence,  at  another  command- 
ing prices  second  only  to  Reynolds  and  Gainsborough,  and  overwhelmed 
with  profitable  commissions  ; nobles  sought  him  out  in  the  debtors’  prison 
at  Dublin  ; with  a strong  physical  organization,  and  that  sharp,  practical 
insight  which  distinguishes  the  Scotch  character,  a lingerer  at  the  banquet 
and  a keen  student  of  art— his  life  abounds  in  the  most  skilful  achieve- 
ments and  the  most  eccentric  irregularities.  The  personal  anecdotes  of 
Stuart  are  piquant  and  original ; Dunlap  has  recorded  not  a few  ; many 
of  them  are  familiar  and  traditional,  and  received  a memorable  emphasis 
when  related  by  himself. 

In  portrait-painting  Stuart  illustrated  the  most  valuable  principles,  and 
in  endeavoring  to  seize  upon  these,  it  must  be  remembered  that  he  painted 
indifferent  works  enough  to  have  ruined  the  credit  of  any  artist  whose 
ability  had  been  less  unequivocally  manifested.  His  main  idea  was  to  in- 
terpret for  himself,  and  represent  according  to  his  own  free  perception. 
“ I wish,”  he  said,  “to  find  out  what  Nature  is  for  myself,  and  see  her 


Stuart. 


1 15 

with  my  own  eyes.  Nature  may  be  seen  through  different  mediums; 
Rembrandt  saw  with  a different  eye  from  Raphael,  and  yet  they  are  both 
excellent — but  for  dissimilar  qualities.”  Upon  this  judicious  and  liberal 
view  Stuart  habitually  worked.  His  best  portraits  are,  therefore,  glimpses 
of  character.  Even  those  heads  which  time  has  robbed  of  all  intensity  of 
expression,  he  seems  to  have  restored  without  any  sacrifice  of  truth — as 
in  the  case  of  the  elder  Adams.  It  was  this  feeling  for  the  original — this 
loyalty  to  individual  conviction  as  the  source  of  excellence — that  led  him 
to  prefer  the  unschooled  criticism  which  his  works  received  at  home, 
where,  he  said,  “they  were  compared  with  nature,  of  which  they  were 
diredl  imitations,  instead  of  being  estimated,  as  abroad,  by  their  approach 
to  Titian  and  Vandyke.” 

Quick  of  apprehension,  discriminating  and  rhetorical,  Stuart,  when  he 
chose  to  exert  the  valuable  quality,  could  exercise  rare  taCt,  both  in  the 
labors  of  his  art  and  the  pleasures  of  society.  He  had  great  command  of 
satire,  and  where  he  could  not  win  by  entertaining,  found  no  difficulty  in 
exciting  a fear  of  ridicule  which  checked  the  machinations  of  enmity. 
This  accounts  for  the  different  impression  he  created,  according  as  the 
individual  was  fascinated  or  frightened.  He  possessed  the  hardihood 
rather  than  the  susceptibility  of  genius,  and  effected  his  triumphs  by  the 
force  of  a comprehensive  mind,  which  takes  in  all  the  relations  of  a sub- 
ject, and  attains  a complete,  instead  of  a fragmentary,  result.  Allston 
said  of  him,  that  he  could  thoroughly  distinguish  the  accidental  from  the 
permanent — no  insignificant  merit  in  portrait-painting.  It  is  acknowledged 
that  his  likeness  of  Washington  is  the  only  just  representation  of  a coun- 
tenance wherein  the  tranquillity  of  self-approval  blends  with  wisdom  and 
truth,  so  as  to  form  a moral  ideal  in  portraiture,  as  the  character  was  in 
life.  It  is  lamentable  that  such  inadequate  copies  of  this  head  have  gone 
abroad,  owing,  in  some  instances,  to  the  inability  of  engravers,  and  in 
others  to  the  use  of  spurious  originals.  It  was  the  last  of  his  portraits  of 
Washington  with  which  Stuart  expressed  absolute  satisfaction.  He  promised 
to  present  it  to  the  family  when  finished  ; and,  with  a humorous  shrewdness 
in  accordance  with  his  character,  left  the  head  alone  upon  the  broad  can- 
vas, in  order  to  retain  what  he  justly  deemed  his  most  invaluable  trophy. 

“ Gilbert  Stuart’s*  most  cherished  anticipation,  when  he  left  England 
for  America,  was  that  of  executing  a portrait  of  Washington, — cherishing, 
as  he  did,  the  greatest  personal  admiration  of  his  character.  His  own  na- 
ture was  more  remarkable  for  strength  than  refinement ; he  was  eminently 
fitted  to  appreciate  practical  talents  and  moral  energy  ; the  brave  truths  of 
Nature,  rather  than  her  more  delicate  effeCts,  were  grasped  and  reproduced  by 
his  skill  ; he  might  not  have  done  justice  to  the  ideal  contour  of  Shelley,  or 
the  gentle  features  of  Mary  of  Scotland,  but  could  have  perfectly  reflected 
the  dormant  thunder  of  Mirabeau’s  countenance,  and  the  argumentative 
abstraction  that  knit  the  brows  of  Samuel  Johnson.  He  was  a votary  of 


* From  the  Author’s  Character  and  Portraits  of  Washington. 


American  Artist  Life . 


1 1 6 

truth  in  her  boldest  manifestations,  and  a delineator  of  character  in  its 
normal  and  sustained  elements.  The  robust,  the  venerable,  the  moral 
picturesque,  the  mentally  characteristic,  he  seized  by  intuition  ; those  lines 
of  physiognomy  which  channelled  by  will  the  map  of  inward  life,  which  years 
of  consistent  thought  and  aCtion  trace  upon  the  countenance  ; the  hue  that, 
to  an  observant  eye,  indicates  almost  the  daily  vocation,  the  air  suggestive 
of  authority  or  obedience,  firmness  or  vacillation  ; the  glance  of  the  eye, 
which  is  the  measure  of  natural  intelligence  and  the  temper  of  the  soul,  the 
expression  of  the  mouth  that  infallibly  betrays  the  disposition,  the  tint  of 
hair  and  mould  of  features,  not  only  attesting  the  period  of  life  but  revealing 
what  that  life  has  been,  whether  toilsome  or  inert,  self-indulgent  or  adven- 
turous, careworn  or  pleasurable — these,  and  such  as  these  records  of  hu- 
manity, Stuart  transferred,  in  vivid  colors  and  most  trustworthy  outlines,  to 
the  canvas.  InstinCtive,  therefore,  was  his  zeal  to  delineate  Washington  ; 
a man,  who,  of  all  the  sons  of  fame,  most  clearly  and  emphatically  wrote 
his  character  in  deeds  upon  the  world's  heart ; whose  traits  required  no 
imagination  to  give  them  effeCfc,  and  no  metaphysical  insight  to  unravel  their 
perplexity,  but  were  brought  out  by  the  exigencies  of  the  time  in  distinCt 
relief,  as  bold,  fresh,  and  true  as  the  verdure  of  spring  and  the  lights  of 
the  firmament,  equally  recognized  by  the  humblest  peasant  and  the  most 
gifted  philosopher. 

“To  trace  the  history  of  each  of  Stuart’s  portraits  of  Washington  would 
prove  of  curious  interest.  One  of  his  letters  to  a relative,  dated  the  second 
of  November,  1794,  enables  us  to  fix  the  period  of  the  earliest  experiment. 
4 The  objecl  of  my  journey,’  he  says,  4 is  only  to  secure  a portrait  of  the 
President,  and  finish  yours.’  One  of  the  succeeding  pictures  was  bought 
from  the  artist’s  studio  by  Mr.  Tayloe,  of  Washington,  and  is,  at  present, 
owned  by  his  son,  B.  Ogle  Tayloe,  Esq.  ; another  was  long  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Madison,  and  is  now  in  that  of  Gov.  E.  Coles,  of  Philadelphia.  The 
full-length,  in  the  Presidential  mansion,  at  the  seat  of  Government,  was 
saved  through  the  foresight  and  care  of  the  late  Mrs.  Madison,  when  the 
city  was  taken  by  the  British  in  the  last  war.  Stuart,  however,  always 
denied  that  the  copy  was  by  him.  Another  portrait  of  undoubted  authenti- 
city was  offered  to  and  declined  by  Congress,  a few  years  ago,  and  is  owned 
by  a Boston  gentleman  ; it  once  graced  the  hospitable  dwelling  of  Samuel 
Williams,  the  London  banker.  For  a long  period  artistic  productions  on 
this  side  of  the  water  were  subjects  of  ridicule.  Tudor  not  inaptly  called 
the  New  England  country  meeting-houses  44  wooden  lanterns  ; ” almost  every 
town  boasted  an  architectural  monstrosity,  popularly  known  as  somebody’s 
44  folly  ; ” the  rows  of  legs  in  Trumbull’s  picture  of  the  Signing  of  the  Decla- 
ration, obtained  for  it  the  sarcastic  name,  generally  ascribed  to  John  Ran- 
dolph, of  44  the  shin-piece  ; ” and  Stuart’s  full-length,  originally  painted  for 
Lord  Lansdowne,  with  one  arm  resting  on  his  sword  hilt,  and  the  other  ex- 
tended, was  distinguished  among  artists  by  the  title  of  the  44  tea-pot  por- 
trait,” from  the  resemblance  of  the  outline  to  the  handle  and  spout  of  that 
domestic  utensil.  The  feature,  usually  exaggerated  in  poor  copies,  and  the 


Stuart. 


11/ 


least  agreeable  in  the  original,  is  the  mouth,  resulting  from  the  want  of 
support  of  those  muscles  consequent  on  the  loss  of  teeth,  a defect  which 
Stuart  vainly  attempted  to  remedy  by  inserting  cotton  between  the  jaw  and 
the  lips  ; and  Wilson  Peale  more  permanently,  but  not  less  ineffectually, 
sought  to  relieve  by  a set  of  artificial  teeth. 

We  have  seen  in  western  New  York,  a cabinet  head  of  Washington 
which  bears  strong  evidence  of  Stuart’s  pencil,  and  is  traced  direCtly  by 
its  present  owner  to  his  hand,  which  was  purchased  of  the  artist  and  pre- 
sented to  Mr.  Gilbert,  a member  of  Congress  from  Columbia  county, 
New  York,  a gentleman  who  held  the  original  in  such  veneration  that  he 
requested,  on  his  death-bed,  to  have  the  picture  exhibited  to  his  fading 
gaze,  as  it  was  the  last  objeCt  he  desired  to  behold  on  earth.  The 
remarks  of  the  great  artist  indicate  what  a study  he  made  of  his  illus- 
trious sitter : “ There  were,”  he  said,  “ features  in  his  face  totally 

different  from  what  he  had  observed  in  any  other  human  being  ; the 
sockets  of  the  eyes,  for  instance,  were  larger  than  what  I ever  met  with 
before,  and  the  upper  part  of  the  nose  broader.  All  his  features  were 
indicative  of  the  strongest  passions  ; yet,  like  Socrates,  his  judgment  and 
great  self-command  made  him  appear  a man  of  a different  cast  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.”  The  color  of  his  eyes  was  a light  greyish  blue,  but 
according  to  Mr.  Custis,  Stuart  painted  them  of  a deeper  blue,  saying, 
“in  a hundred  years  they  will  have  faded  to  the  right  color.” 

While  Congress  was  in  session  at  Philadelphia,  in  1794,  Stuart  went 
thither  with  a letter  of  introduction  to  Washington,  from  John  Jay.  He 
first  met  his  illustrious  subjeCt  on  a reception  evening,  and  was  spontane- 
ously accosted  by  him  with  a greeting  of  dignified  urbanity.  Familiar  as 
was  the  painter  with  eminent  men,  he  afterwards  declared  that  no  human 
beino:  ever  awakened  in  him  the  sentiment  of  reverence  to  such  a decree. 
For  a moment,  he  lost  his  self-possession — with  him  an  experience  quite 
unprecedented — and  it  was  not  until  several  interviews  that  he  felt 
himself  enough  at  home  with  his  sitter  to  give  the  requisite  concentration 
of  mind  to  his  work.  This  was  owing  not  less  to  the  personal  impressive- 
ness of  Washington — which  all  who  came  in  contaCt  with  him  felt  and 
acknowledged — than  to  the  profound  respeCt  and  deep  interest  which  the 
long  anticipations  of  the  artist  had  fostered  in  his  own  mind.  He  failed, 
probably  from  this  cause,  in  his  first  experiment.  No  portrait-painter  has 
left  such  a reputation  for  the  faculty  of  eliciting  expression  by  his  social 
taCt,  as  Stuart.  He  would  even  defer  his  task  upon  any  pretext  until  he 
succeeded  in  making  the  sitter,  as  he  said,  “look  like  himself.”  To  induce 
a natural,  unconscious,  and  characteristic  mood,  was  his  initiative  step  in 
the  execution  of  a portrait.  Innumerable  are  the  anecdotes  of  his  inge- 
nuity and  persistence  in  carrying  out  this  habit.  More  or  less  conversant 
with  every  topic  of  general  interest,  and  endowed  with  rare  conversa- 
tional ability  and  knowledge  of  character,  he  seldom  failed  to  excite  the 
ruling  passion,  magnetize  the  prominent  idiosyncrasy,  or  awaken  the  pro- 
fessional interest  of  the  occupant  of  his  throne,  whether  statesman, 


American  Artist  Life . 


1 1 8 

farmer,  aCtor,  judge,  or  merchant ; and  his  fund  of  good  stories,  narrated 
with  dramatic  effect,  by  enchaining  the  attention  or  enlisting  the  sympa- 
thies, usually  made  the  delighted  listener  self-oblivious  and  demonstra- 
tive, when,  with  an  alertness  and  precision  like  magic,  the  watchful  limner 
transferred  the  vital  identity  of  his  preoccupied  and  fascinated  subject, 
with  almost  breathing  similitude.  In  Washington,  however,  he  found  a 
less  flexible  character  upon  which  to  scintillate  his  wit  and  open  his 
anecdotical  battery.  Facility  of  adaptation  seldom  accompanies  great 
individuality  ; and  a man  whose  entire  life  has  been  oppressed  with  re- 
sponsibility, and  in  whom  the  prevalent  qualities  are  conscience  and  good 
sense,  can  scarcely  be  expeCted  to  possess  humor  and  geniality  in  the 
same  proportion  as  ‘self-control  and  reflection.  On  the  professional 
themes  of  agriculture  and  military  science,  Washington  was  always  ready 
to  converse,  if  not  with  enthusiasm,  at  least  in  an  attentive  and  intelli- 
gent strain  ; but  the  artillery  of  repartee  and  the  sallies  of  fancy  made 
but  a slight  impression  upon  his  grave  and  reserved  nature.  He  was  de- 
ficient in  language — far  more  a man  of  aCtion  than  of  words  — and  had 
been  obliged  to  think  too  much  on  vast  interests,  to  “ carry  America  in 
his  brain,”  as  one  of  his  eulogists  has  aptly  said,  to  readily  unbend  in 
colloquial  diversion.  By  degrees,  however,  the  desirable  relation  was 
established  between  himself  and  the  artist,  who,  of  several  portraits, 
justly  gave  the  preference  to  the  Lansdowne  picture  and  the  unfinished 
one  now  possessed  by  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  They,  doubtless,  are  the 
most  perfect  representations  of  Washington,  as  he  looked  at  the  time 
they  were  executed,  and  will  ever  be  the  standards  and  resource  of  subse- 
quent delineators.  The  latter,  supposed  by  many  to  have  been  his 
original  “ study,”  engaged  his  attention  for  months.  The  freshness  of 
color,  the  studious  modelling  of  the  brow,  the  mingling  of  clear  purpose 
and  benevolence  in  the  eye,  and  a thorough  nobleness  and  dignity  in  the 
whole  head,  realize  all  the  most  intelligent  admirer  of  the  original  has 
imagined — not,  indeed,  when  thinking  of  him  as  the  intrepid  leader  of 
armies,  but  in  the  last  analysis  and  complete  image  of  the  hero  in  retire- 
ment, in  all  the  consciousness  of  a sublime  career,  unimpeachable  fidelity 
to  a national  trust,  and  the  eternal  gratitude  of  a free  people.  It  is  this 
masterpiece  of  Stuart  that  has  not  only  perpetuated,  but  distributed  over 
the  globe  the  resemblance  of  Washington.  It  has  been  sometimes  la- 
mented that  so  popular  a work  does  not  represent  him  in  the  aspeCt  of  a 
successful  warrior,  or  in  the  flush  of  ybuth  ; but  there  seems  to  be  a singu- 
lar harmony  between  this  venerable  image — so  majestic,  benignant,  and 
serene — and  the  absolute  character  and  peculiar  example  of  Washington, 
separated  from  what  was  purely  incidental  and  contingent  in  his  life. 
Self-control,  endurance,  dauntless  courage,  loyalty  to  a just  but  sometimes 
desperate  cause,  hope  through  the  most  hopeless  crisis,  and  a tone  of 
feeling  the  most  exalted,  united  to  habits  of  candid  simplicity,  are  better 
embodied  in  such  a calm,  magnanimous,  mature  image,  full  of  dignity  and 
sweetness,  than  if  portrayed  in  battle  array  or  melodramatic  attitude.  Let 


Stuart. 


1 19 

such  piftures  as  David’s  Napoleon — with  prancing  steed,  flashing  eye, 
and  waving  sword — represent  the  mere  vidtor  and  military  genius  ; but  he 
who  spurned  a crown,  knew  no  watchword  but  duty,  no  goal  but  freedom 
and  justice,  and  no  reward  but  the  approval  of  conscience  and  the  grati- 
tude of  a country,  lives  more  appropriately,  both  to  memory  and  in  art, 
under  the  aspedt  of  a finished  life,  crowned  with  the  harvest  of  honor  and 
peace,  and  serene  in  the  consummation  of  disinterested  purpose. 

A letter  of  Stuart’s  which  appeared  in  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  in 
1853,*  attested  by  three  gentlemen  of  Boston,  with  one  from  Washington 
making  the  appointment  for  a sitting,  proves  the  error  long  current  in  re- 
gard both  to  the  dates  and  the  number  of  this  artist’s  original  portraits. 
He  there  distindtly  states  that  he  never  executed  but  three  from  life,  the 
first  of  which  was  so  unsatisfadfcory  that  he  destroyed  it ; the  second  was 
the  pidture  for  Lord  Lansdowne  ; and  the  third,  the  one  now  belonging  to 
the  Boston  Athenaeum.  Of  these  originals  he  made  twenty-six  copies. 
The  finishing  touches  were  put  to  the  one  in  September,  1795,  and  to  the 
other,  at  Philadelphia,  in  the  spring  of  1796.  This  last,  it  appears  by  a 
letter  of  Mr.  Custis,  which  we  have  examined,  was  undertaken  against 
the  desire  of  Washington,  and  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  his  wife,  who 
wished  a portrait  from  life  of  her  illustrious  husband,  to  be  placed  among 

* Extract  from  article  in  Evening  Post , N.  Y.,  March  15th,  1853  : — 

It  may  set  this  question  at  rest  to  state,  that  Stuart  himself  has  given  an  account  of  all  the  por- 
traits of  Washington  that  he  painted. 

A gentleman  of  Philadelphia  has  in  his  possession  the  originals  of  the  following  documents. 
[Edit.  Post.] — 

Sir  : — I am  under  promise  to  Mrs.  Bingham,  to  sit  for  you  to-morrow  at  nine  o’clock,  and  wishing 
to  know  if  it  be  convenient  to  you  that  I should  do  so,  and  whether  it  shall  be  at  your  own  house 
(as  she  talked  of  the  State-House),  I send  this  note  to  you  to  ask  information. — I am,  Sir,  your 
obedient  servt.,  GEO.  WASHINGTON. 

Monday  Evening,  nth  April , 1796. 

This  letter  was  indorsed  in  Washington’s  handwriting, — “ Mr.  Stuart,  Chestnut  Street.”  At  the 
foot  of  the  manuscript  are  the  following  certificates  : — 

In  looking  over  my  papers  to  find  one  that  had  the  signature  of  George  Washington,  I found  this, 
asking  me  when  he  should  sit  for  his  portrait,  which  is  now  owned  by  Samuel  Williams,  of  London. 
I have  thought  it  proper  it  should  be  his,  especially  as  he  owns  the  only  original  painting  I ever 
made  of  Washington,  except  one  I own  myself.  I painted  a third,  but  rubbed  it  out.  I now  pre- 
sent this  to  his  brother,  Timo  Williams,  for  said  Samuel. 

Boston,  9 th  day  of  March,  1823.  GT.  STUART. 

Attest — J.  P-  Davis. 

W.  Dutton, 

L.  Baldwin. 

N.  B. — Mr.  Stuart  painted  in  ye  winter  season  his  first  portrait  of  Washington,  but  destroyed  it. 
The  next  painting  was  ye  one  owned  by  S.  Williams  ; the  third  Mr.  S.  now  has — two  only  remain  as 
above  stated.  T.  W.” 

The  pidture  alluded  to  in  the  above  note  of  the  late  Timo  Williams,  as  being  then  in  Mr.  Stuart’s 
possession,  is  the  one  now  in  the  Boston  Athen^um  ; and  that  which  belonged  to  the  late  Samuel 
Williams,  Esq.,  alluded  to  in  Mr.  Stuart’s  note  above  quoted,  is  yet  extant,  and  owned  by  the  son  of 
an  American  gentleman  [John  D.  Lewis , Esq.),  who  died  in  London  some  years  since,  where  it 
still  remains.  Mr.  Williams  had  paid  for  it  at  the  sale  of  the  personal  effedts  of  the  Marquis  of 
Lansdowne, — to  whom  it  was  originally  presented  by  Mr.  Bingham,  of  Philadelphia, — two  thousand 
guineas. 

It  is  this  portrait,  full  length  and  life  size,  from  which  the  bad  engraving  was  made  by  Heath,  so 
many  copies  of  which  are  still  to  be  seen  in  this  country. 


1 20 


American  Artist  Life. 


the  other  family  pictures  at  Mount  Vernon.  For  this  express  purpose, 
and  to  gratify  her,  the  artist  commenced  the  work,  and  Washington 
agreed  to  sit  once  more.  It  was  left,  intentionally,  unfinished,  and  when 
subsequently  claimed  by  Mr.  Custis,  who  offered  a premium  upon  the 
original  price,  Stuart  excused  himself,  much  to  the  former’s  dissatis- 
faction, on  the  plea  that  it  was  a requisite  legacy  for  his  children.  Si- 
multaneously with  the  Lansdowne  portrait,  the  artist  executed  for  William 
Constable  that  now  in  the  possession  of  his  grandson,  Henry  E.  Pierre- 
pont,  Esq.,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.  Motives  of  personal  friendship  induced 
the  artist  to  exert  his  best  skill  in  this  instance  ; it  is  a fac-simile  of  its 
prototype,  and  the  expression  has  been  thought  even  more  noble  and  of 
higher  significance,  more  in  accordance  with  the  traditional  character  of 
the  subjefit.  than  the  Athenasum  picture.  It  has  the  eyes  looking  off,  and 
not  at,  the  spectator,  as  in  the  latter.  Mr.  Constable,  the  original  pro- 
prietor, was  aide  to  General  Washington  ; and  when  Lafayette  visited  this 
country  in  1824,  upon  entering  the  drawing-room  at  Brooklyn  Heights, 
where  the  picture  hangs,  he  exclaimed,  ‘ That  is  my  old  friend,  indeed  ! ’ 
Colonel  Nicholas  Fish  and  General  Van  Rensselaer  joined  in  attesting 
the  superior  correctness  of  the  likeness.”* 

Various  copies  of  his  Washington  by  his  own  hand  are  claimed  as 
authentic  by  their  owners.  One  belongs  to  Joseph  Harrison,  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  was  purchased  of  Wm.  Vaughan,  of  London  ; another  belongs 
to  W.  D.  Lewis,  of  the  same  city  ; another  to  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts 
there  ; one  is  in  the  State  House  at  Newport,  R.  I.  ; and  one  was  pur- 
chased at  the  Wolfe  sale  in  New  York,  by  J.  W.  Southmeyd,  for  $590. 

The  usual  objection  to  Stuart’s  Washington  is  a certain  feebleness  about 
the  lines  of  the  mouth,  which  does  not  correspond  with  the  distinCt  outline 
of  the  frontal  region,  the  benign  yet  resolved  eye,  and  the  harmonious  dignity 
of  the  entire  head  ; but  this  defeCt  was  an  inevitable  result  of  the  loss  of 
teeth,  and  their  imperfeCt  substitution  by  a false  set.  In  view  of  the  state 
of  the  arts  in  this  country  at  the  period,  and  the  age  of  Washington,  we 
cannot  but  congratulate  ourselves  that  we  have  so  pleasing  and  satisfactory 
a portrait,  and  exclaim,  with  Leslie,  a How  fortunate  it  was  that  a painter 
existed  in  the  time  of  Washington,  who  could  hand  him  down  looking  like 
a gentleman  ! ” 


* From  the  author’s  Character  and  Portraits  of  Washington, 


M A L B O N E. 


HERE  is  an  elevated  slope  on  the  Rhode  Island  coast  near 
the  outlet  of  Narragansett  Bay,  the  highest  point  of  which 
was  the  abode  of  Miantonomi,  where  his  son  long  ruled  as 
sachem  of  his  tribe  ; along  the  adjacent  declivity  is  the 
farm  and  homestead  of  a late  well-known  hospitable  New 
York  lawyer  ; the  house  is  built  of  brown-stone,  and  that  of 
its  lower  walls  was  brought,  long  before  the  Revolution,  from  Bristol,  Eng- 
land, as  material  for  the  fine  dwelling  (long  ago  destroyed  by  fire)  of  God- 
frey Malbone,  who  was  renowned  in  his  day  for  elegant  hospitality,  priva- 
teering, and  large  wealth.  A few  old  box  and  cedar  trees,  a fish  pond, 
a subterranean  passage  to  the  water,  and  some  other  traces  of  his  resi- 
dence still  remain  ; and  many  current  anecdotes  attest  his  generous,  enter- 
prising, and  reckless  spirit.  After  the  era  of  colonial  prosperity  the  for- 
tunes of  the  family  declined,  but  its  name  was  honorably  perpetuated,  and 
is  still  cherished,  through  the  endeared  memory  of  a descendant  in  the 
collateral  branch,  of  remarkable  artistic  gifts  and  social  graces.  This  was 
Edward  G.  Malbone,  who  was  born  in  Newport,  R.  I.,  August,  1777. 
While  a boy,  he  haunted  the  theatre  of  his  native  town  to  watch  the  process 
of  scene-painting  ; and,  at  length,  tried  his  hand  therein,  achieving  what 
was  deemed  by  the  town’s-people  a juvenile  miracle  of  scenic  art.  He 
delighted  in  blowing  soap-bubbles,  in  order  to  behold  their  prismatic  hues 
in  the  sunlight ; disseCted  toys  to  learn  the  secret  of  their  mechanism  ; 
made  kites  and  fireworks,  and  collected,  on  the  beach,  what  he  called 
“paint-stones.”  He  would  not  join  in  the  common  sports  of  his  school- 
fellows ; he  was  very  abstracted  for  a child,  and  indulged  in  vivid  presenti- 
ments of  future  success  : refined,  engaging,  and  ingenious,  he  was  the 
delight  of  his  family,  and,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  gave  adequate  proof  of  his 
vocation  for  art,  by  executing  a portrait  of  rare  merit,  for  a novice.  The 
English  consul  at  Providence,  R.  I.,  encouraged  the  young  aspirant  to 
devote  his  leisure  to  drawing  heads  in  miniature,  and,  when  but  seventeen, 
we  find  him  at  work  professionally  in  that  town  ; and  in  the  spring  of  1796, 
fairly  established  as  a miniature  painter  in  Boston.  In  the  year  1800,  he 
accompanied  his  friend  Allston  to  Charleston,  S.  C. ; and  the  next  year 
they  embarked  for  Europe.  He  remained  but  a few  months  in  London, 


122 


American  Artist  Life. 

although  urged  by  West  to  fix  his  temporary  abode  there,  with  every  pros- 
pect of  ample  employment. 

Upon  returning  to  the  United  States,  Malbone  travelled  and  sojourned 
in  the  principal  cities  for  several  years,  successfully  devoted  to  his  art. 
His  miniatures  are  among  the  few  pleasing  and  precious  artistic  associa- 
tions with  the  past,  which  exist  in  the  country.  I have  seen  an  ancient 
lady,  in  an  old-fashioned  mansion,  surrounded  by  furniture  of  an  obsolete 
style,  and  her  costume  of  the  fashion  which  prevailed  in  a former  genera- 
tion, and  take  from  an  antique  casket  a miniature  of  her  husband,  “ a gen- 
tleman of  the  old  school,”  by  Malbone,  and  with  a proud  pathos,  descant 
upon  its  truthful  lineaments  undimmed  by  time. 

A signal  evidence  of  Malbone’s  taCt  and  skill  was  afforded  by  a foreign 
artist  recognising  in  the  miniature  of  a beautiful  girl  of  seventeen,  the 
features  of  an  old  lady  to  whom  he  had  been  introduced  a few  days  be- 
fore : the  vital  and  characteristic  expression  of  the  original  was  thus  pre- 
served intaCt,  so  as  to  appeal,  at  once,  even  to  a stranger’s  eye.  In  the 
“ House  of  the  Seven  Gables,”  Hawthorne,  with  intuitive  sagacity,  makes 
Hepzibah  contemplate  her  unfortunate  brother’s  miniature  by  Malbone. 
He  had  “an  acute  discernment  of  character,”  and,  what  is  remarkable, 
considering  his  limited  instruction,  knew  how  to  draw  with  absolute  cor- 
rectness ; his  best  miniatures  are  preferred  by  many  artists  to  Isabey’s. 
Endowed  by  nature  with  the  most  graceful  talents  and  manners,  to  appre- 
ciate his  development  we  must  recur  to  his  early  associations,  to  the 
auspicious  local,  domestic,  and  social  relations  of  his  life — to  the  studious 
habits,  and  love  of  beauty  for  its  own  sake,  which  inspired  his  career,  and 
to  the  advantages  of  his  birth-place  and  early  home. 

Of  late  years  few  places  of  summer  resort  in  the  country,  have  proved 
more  attractive  than  Newport,  R.  I.  (the  social  advantages  of  which  now- 
frequented  resort,  during  the  colonial  era,  we  have  noted  in  the  suc- 
ceeding memoir),  and  its  natural  scenery  and  climate  amply  justify  the 
preference  which  fashion  has  accorded.  English  visitors  find  something 
in  the  air  like  that  of  the  Isle  of  Wight ; and  its  saline  humidity,  besides 
refreshing  the  languid  frame  in  the  sultry  months,  proves  singularly  effica- 
cious to  a large  class  of  invalids,  and  has  so  favorable  an  influence  upon 
the  complexion  that  the  place  has  been  long  celebrated  for  the  beauty  of 
its  women.  The  sportsman  and  lover  of  the  picturesque  find  there  more 
than  ordinary  gratification.  The  latter  cannot  fail  to  remember  with 
pleasure  the  scene  presented  on  fine  summer  evenings  at  those  favorite 
spots,  named  “ Purgatory,”  “ Paradise,”  and  especially  the  “ Glen.”  The 
deep  valley  so  called  is  as  sweet  a bit  of  inland  scenery,  in  its  way,  as  the 
country  affords.  In  the  afternoon,  when  the  lateral  sunshine  plays 
through  the  surrounding  foliage,  the  old  mill  and  clear  stream  form  an 
admirable  study  for  the  landscape  painter.  A foreign  artist,  who  allowed 
us  a short  time  since  to  inspeCt  the  contents  of  his  portfolio,  confirmed 
these  impressions  by  the  number  of  beautiful  sketches  of  cliffs,  inlets,  and 
ledges  of  rock  which  he  had  gleaned  in  the  vicinity,  as  material  for  com- 


Malbone . 


123 


position.  Nor  is  Newport  destitute  of  interesting  associations.  Berke- 
ley sojourned  there  a century  ago;  and  it  was  there  that  George  Fox 
challenged  Roger  Williams  to  meet  him,  and  discuss  their  respective 
tenets.  The  ancient  tower,  about  which  so  much  speculative  wisdom  has 
been  exercised,  now  lives  in  the  polished  numbers  of  Longfellow,  having 
suggested  the  theme  of  one  of  his  best  poems.  A synagogue  and  ceme- 
tery, that  are  kept  in  perfedt  order,  according  to  the  testamentary  pro- 
vision of  a wealthy  Israelite,  though  utterly  abandoned,  are  striking 
memorials  of  the  now  extindt  band  of  Jews  who  once  lived  and  worship- 
ped there  ; while  a granite  shaft  rising  from  amid  the  funereal  tablets  of 
many  generations  in  the  old  burying-ground,  indicates  to  the  stranger 
where  the  remains  of  the  gallant  Perry  repose. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  desirable  a residence  the  town  must  have  been 
to  a man  of  contemplative  habits,  before  the  capricious  tide  of  fashion  dis- 
turbed its  wonted  quietude.  Like  many  places  on  our  eastern  border,  it 
became  prosperous  at  the  time  commerce  with  the  West  Indies  was  at 
its  height,  and  with  the  decay  of  that  profitable  branch  of  traffic  its  activ- 
ity decreased,  and  a sort  of  sleepy-hollow  tranquillity  settled  upon  the 
inhabitants.  Perhaps  the  great  charm  of  Newport  is  its  famous  beach. 
To  watch  the  waves  when  lashed  into  fury  by  the  storm,  or  as  they  come 
only  to  break  into  gay  sparkles  upon  the  warm  sands,  is  a pastime  of  which 
no  lover  of  the  beautiful  can  weary.  The  briny  coolness  of  the  air,  and 
the  deep  monotone  of  the  lapsing  waters,  have  in  them  something  impres- 
sive to  the  most  thoughtless.  Dr.  Channing,  in  his  beautiful  address  at 
the  dedication  of  a church  in  Newport,  attributes  the  most  salutary  impres- 
sions of  his  early  life  to  meditations  on  this  very  spot  The  best  hours  of 
his  youth  were  those  passed  in  the  solitude  of  the  Redwood  Library,  where 
sometimes  for  whole  days  his  reading  was  uninterrupted  by  a single  visi- 
tor ; and  the  musings  in  which  he  indulged  in  his  lonely  walks  along  the 
strand.  At  the  distance  of  many  years  he  thus  vividly  recalls  his  com- 
munion with  the  mysteries  of  nature.  The  sympathies  of  the  everlasting 
sea,  as  they  rose  upon  his  youthful  ear,  dwelt  like  a perpetual  anthem  in 
his  soul,  and  essentially  sustained  its  consistent  elevation.  Another  child 
of  genius  haunted  this  shore,  whose  fame  was  recalled  a few  summers 
since,  by  the  circumstance  of  one  of  its  trophies  being  offered  for  sale. 
Few  works  of  art  of  the  kind  have  enjoyed  so  wide  a reputation  as  Mal- 
bone’s  “ Hours,”  and  hundreds  availed  themselves  of  the  opportunity  to 
behold  it,  when  it  was  announced  in  Newport  that  the  gem  would  be 
raffled  for.  We  are  happy  to  record  the  fadt  that  the  successful  compe- 
titor proved  to  be  one  of  the  artist’s  family,  to  whom  it  is  endeared  by  the 
most  tender  remembrances,  and  whom  necessity  alone  compelled  to  part 
with  it.  Thus  they  realized  a handsome  sum,  and  still  retained  the  pre- 
cious legacy.  This  lovely  work  was  executed  by  Malbone  during  his  studi- 
ous visit  to  London.  It  presents  the  Hours  in  the  shape  of  three  beautiful 
females  in  the  adt  of  moving  in  a circle,  the  one  in  front  being  the  Present, 
and  her  companions,  the  Past  and  Future.  The  grace  of  the  design  it  is 


124 


American  Artist  Life . 


not  easy  to  describe.  The  sweet  expression  of  the  faces  and  the  delicacy 
of  the  coloring  are  inimitable.  A more  charming  emblem  of  Time  we  have 
never  seen,  excepting  Guido’s  celebrated  picture.  Instead  of  a grim  old 
man  with  a scythe,  we  have  three  fair  girls.  They  are  emphatically  the 
“ rosy  hours,”  such  as  poetry  chronicles  and  love  inspires,  redolent  of  hope 
and  overflowing  with  promise.  It  was  impossible  to  dwell  upon  the  work, 
and. trace  the  eloquent  traits  of  a sensitive  and  gifted  mind,  without  revert- 
ing to  the  brief  yet  memorable  life  of  him  who  haunted  the  adjacent  beach 
while  a child,  in  search  of  colored  pebbles,  with  which  to  paint ; and 
designed  little  pictures  to  hang  round  the  necks  of  the  prettiest  girls  in 
school.  In  later  years,  Malbone  made  frequent  excursions  in  the  neigh- 
borhood with  his  friend  Aflston,  who  has  left  the  warmest  testimony  to  his 
generosity  and  intelligence.  His  predilection  for  art  was  at  first  discour- 
aged at  home,  and  there  was  certainly  but  little  around  him  to  suggest  any 
method  of  imitating  the  visible  beauty  so  familiar  to  his  childhood.  He 
received,  as  we  have  seen,  the  hint  at  last  from  the  scenic  effedts  of  a thea- 
tre. These  excited  his  boyish  curiosity,  and  when  the  process  was  dis- 
covered, he  found  no  difficulty  in  crudely  trying  an  experiment  for  himself. 
The  result  was,  that  the  intervals  of  his  school  occupations  were  devoted 
to  scene-painting,  to  the  great  advantage  of  the  manager,  the  wonder  of  his 
relatives,  and  his  own  perfect  delight.  This  was  a singular  introduction  to 
the  department  of  art  in  which  he  was  chiefly  gifted.  The  broadest  effedts 
obtained  by  the  coarsest  expedients,  would  seem  but  an  inadequate  initia- 
tion to  the  delicate  touches  of  miniature  ; and  practice  in  wielding  the 
whitewash  brush,  one  would  suppose,  might  unfit  the  hand  for  a camel’s- 
hair  pencil.  Malbone  appears,  however,  to  have  passed  from  one  to  the 
other  with  wonderful  facility  ; for  while  yet  a youth,  finding  no  scope  in  his 
native  town,  he  went  to  Providence,  and,  in  a brief  period,  took  his  family 
by  surprise  in  achieving  quite  a local  reputation  as  a miniature-painter. 
Of  his  ultimate  success  in  the  art  he  had  never  felt  the  slightest  distrust, 
confidently  predicting  to  his  jeering  companions,  from  the  first,  his  own 
future  eminence.  From  this  period  it  was  pursued  with  consistent  ardor 
and  steadily  progressive  success.  Malbone  possessed  a beautiful  equa- 
nimity of  soul,  and  manners  of  rare  amenity.  In  the  cultivated  society  of 
Charleston  he  found  immediate  recognition  and  sympathy,  and  in  all  the 
principal  cities  of  his  native  land,  are  scattered  the  cherished  tokens  of  his 
genial  labors,  associated  with  the  most  pleasing  memories  of  his  gentle 
and  wise  companionship.  In  the  families  of  Bingham  and  Peters,  of  Phila- 
delphia ; of  the  Derbys,  of  Salem,  Mass.  ; of  Ervingand  Amory,  of  Boston, 
and,  indeed,  among  the  older  families  of  all  the  Atlantic  and  Southern  cities, 
are  found  precious  exemplars  of  his  skill  and  taste. 

In  the  department  of  art  he  selected,  excellence  is  comparatively  rare, 
and  mediocrity  insufferable.  Malbone  has  best  illustrated  it  in  this  coun- 
try, and  the  most  judicious  critics  abroad  and  at  home,  unite  in  awarding 
the  palm  to  his  mature  labors.  His  social  tendencies  never  interfered  with 
the  assiduous  exercise  of  his  vocation,  nor  did  success  for  a moment  blind 


Malbone. 


125 


him  to  the  claims  of  affeCtion  or  the  behests  of  duty.  He  was  a discrimi- 
nating cultivator  of  music  and  poetry.  Sedentary  life  early  deranged  the 
springs  of  a naturally  elastic  constitution,  and  when  he  at  length  yielded 
his  fascinating  pursuit,  and  returned  to  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood,  to  idle 
away  the  summer  in  recruiting  his  exhausted  strength,  it  proved  too  late. 
A southern  climate  was  recommended,  and  he  embarked  for  Jamaica.  As 
all  hope  of  recovery  vanished,  the  desire  to  realize  the  eastern  benedidtion 
and  die  among  his  kindred  grew  strong,  and  he  rallied  his  feeble  energies 
for  a homeward  voyage,  but  died  in  May,  1807,  at  the  age  of  thirty-two, 
after  reaching  Savannah,  two  days  after  his  passage  had  been  taken  for 
the  north. 

There  is  no  more  common  error  than  to  estimate  literature  and  art  by 
the  tangible  space  they  fill.  The  point  to  which  genuine  taste  is  legiti- 
mately directed  is  quality.  The  world  has  had  quite  sufficient  of  merely 
voluminous  authors  and  artists  whose  chief  merit  is  their  elaborate  de- 
signs. A few  masterly  lyrics,  the  offspring  of  a felicitous  and  perhaps 
never-recurring  mood,  float  upon  the  daily  tide  of  life,  while  hundreds  of 
ponderous  epics  are  moored  in  stagnant  obscurity.  There  are  brief  yet 
significant  melodies  that  haunt  the  memory  after  every  trace  of  long 
scientific  compositions  has  vanished.  A scimetar  may  do  as  much  execu- 
tion as  a battle-axe.  Some  poet  has  said  that  “gentleness  is  power;” 
the  same  is  true  of  refinement  in  art.  It  is  the  peculiar  charm  of  minia- 
tures that  they  are  usually  sacred  to  affeCtion,  treasured  in  the  casket,  and 
not  exposed  on  the  wall.  If  as  trophies  of  art  they  are  less  widely  known, 
they  are  more  deeply  cherished.  When  wrought  with  great  delicacy  and 
truth,  they  are  invaluable,  and  may  be  as  characteristic  as  more  ostenta- 
tious productions.  What  a perfeCt  lyric  is  in  poetry,  the  miniature  is  in 
painting.  The  unity  of  the  design  and  the  complete  and  exquisite  finish 
of  the  execution,  make  it  as  truly  the  offspring  of  genius.  It  is  art  con- 
centrated and  etherealized  ; and  when  hallowed  by  the  associations  of 
love,  the  witness  of  secret  tears,  the  talisman  that  opens  the  floodgates  of 
memory,  or  kindles  the  torch  of  hope — a miniature  is  often  the  one  price- 
less gem  among  the  jewels  of  fortune.  “ He  had  the  happy  talent,” 
writes  Allston  of  Malbone,  “ of  elevating  the  character  without  impairing 
the  likeness  ; this  was  remarkable  in  his  male  heads  ; no  woman  ever  lost 
any  beauty  from  his  hand  ; the  fair  would  become  still  fairer  under  his 
pencil.  To  this  he  added  a grace  of  execution  all  his  own.  He  was 
amiable  and  generous,  and  wholly  free  from  any  taint  of  professional 
jealousy.” 


VANDERLYN. 


INGSTON,  the  capital  of  Ulster  county,  N.  Y.,  is  in  date 
of  settlement  by  the  Dutch,  but  a few  years  later  than 
Albany  ; and  in  a dwelling  of  the  town  still  designated  to 
strangers,  the  first  Constitution  of  the  State  of  New  York 
was  framed  and  adopted.  Although  destroyed  by  the 
British  in  1777,  the  local  situation  of  Kingston  has 
secured  it  more  than  average  prosperity  ; on  the  right  bank  of  the  Hud- 
son, ninety  miles  from  the  metropolis  and  fifty  from  the  capital,  its  vicinity 
to  the  terminus  of  the  Delaware  and  Hudson  canal,  its  intersection  of 
Esopus  creek,  and  the  plank-road  which  connects  it  with  Rondout,  have 
drawn  thither  the  most  extensive  commerce  on  the  river  ; its  trade  with 
Delaware  county  is  thriving,  and  it  has  a flourishing  manufactory  of  flag- 
stones. Here  John  Vanderlyn  was  born  in  1776,  and  here,  impoverished, 
worn-out,  and  ill,  he  returned  to  die  in  the  autumn  of  1852.  The  inter- 
vening years  were  fraught  with  the  greatest  vicissitudes,  crowned  with 
success,  and  overshadowed  by  disappointment — full  of  adventure,  rich  in 
social  experience,  aCtive  with  artistic  enterprise — embittered  by  contro- 
versy, and  conflict  with  fortune  ; through,  and  often  above  which  experi- 
ences, the  man  and  the  artist,  in  all  their  individual^,  rise  intaCt. 

The  apparently  accidental  circumstances,  which,  if  they  do  not  deter- 
mine, essentially  modify  individual  destiny,  are  singularly  manifest  in 
American  artist  life.  An  incident  often  related  with  graphic  emphasis,  in 
the  familiar  talk  of  a famous  political  adventurer  and  a successful  artist, 
seems  to  have  been  the  turning-point  in  Vanderlyn’s  life.  A country  boy 
in  Ulster  county,  he  engaged  to  work  for  six  months  for  a blacksmith  near 
Kingston  ; one  morning  Aaron  Burr’s  horse  cast  a shoe,  and  he  stopped 
at  the  forge  to  have  it  replaced  ; walking  about  in  the  vicinity,  he  was 
struck  with  the  spirit  and  truth  of  a charcoal  sketch  on  a barn  door  ; 
turning  to  young  Vanderlyn  who  stood  by,  he  inquired  who  was  the 
draughtsman  ; “ I did  it,”  was  the  reply  ; whereupon  Colonel  Burr  ques- 
tioned him  at  some  length,  and,  recognising  his  ability  for  a higher  sphere 
of  activity  than  the  humble  occupation  he  had  adopted,  gave  him  his  town 


Vanderlyn. 


127 


address,  and  offered  to  advise  and  assist  him  if  he  should  decide  to  study 
and  practise  art.  “ Put  a clean  shirt  in  your  pocket,  come  to  New  York, 
and  call  upon  me,”  said  Burr.  Some  weeks  later,  while  sitting  at  break- 
fast at  his  residence  called  “ Richmond  Hill,”  a brown  paper  parcel  was 
handed  him  with  a message  that  the  bearer  was  at  the  door.  It  contained 
a coarse  shirt  and  the  address  in  the  Colonel’s  handwriting ; he  called  the 
boy  in;  invited  him  to  remain  in  his  family;  little  imagining  that  Van- 
derlyn would  prove  so  renowned  a protege,  and  in  his  days  of  fame  and 
comparative  fortune  befriend  his  New  York  patron  at  the  capital  of 
France,  when  an  indigent  and  avoided  exile  from  his  own  country. 
Many  and  curious  were  the  details  of  the  relation  thus  commenced  which 
the  artist  used  to  relate  ; and  the  anecdote  itself  is  one  of  the  few  re- 
deeming faCts  of  Burr’s  exceptional  career. 

It  was  at  the  age  of  sixteen  that  Vanderlyn  went  to  New  York,  where  his 
brother,  a physician  of  that  city,  introduced  him  to  an  Englishman  who 
dealt  largely  in  prints  and  engravings,  familiarity  wherewith  stimulated  his 
latent  love  for  art — to  which  pursuit  he  soon  resolved  to  devote  himself. 
He  studied  with  Stuart  and  with  Robertson  ; he  copied  the  former’s  portrait 
of  Aaron  Burr,  and  for  him  he  painted  his  beautiful,  accomplished,  and  un- 
fortunate daughter,  Theodosia  ; and,  through  his  aid,  visited  Paris,  and 
remained  five  years.  In  1803  he  revisited  Europe,  and  made  several  fine 
copies  of  the  old  masters,  besides  executing  originals,  such  as  “ The  Mur- 
der of  Jane  McCrea  by  the  Indians,”  and  the  other  historical  pictures  which 
established  his  fame.  At  Paris  he  was  the  companion  of  Allston  ; in  Rome 
he  occupied  Salvator  Rosa’s  house.  His  portraits  of  Madison,  Monroe, 
Randolph,  Clinton,  Calhoun,  and  other  eminent  Americans,  are  authentic,  and 
often  the  best  likenesses  extant ; his  latest  work  of  the  kind  was  a portrait 
of  President  Taylor.  Offended  by  the  government  patronage  extended  to 
Trumbull,  the  objeCt  of  vulgar  attack,  and  deprived,  as  he  thought,  unjustly, 
of  opportunities  for  national  commissions,  Vanderlyn  suffered  long  and 
acutely  from  baffled  projects  and  financial  embarrassments  incident  to  his 
panoramic  enterprises  in  New  York.  The  evening  of  his  life  was  sad. 

The  results  of  all  professional  toil  should  be  judged  according  as  they 
spring  from  necessity  or  will.  It  is  one  thing  to  write  or  paint,  in  order  to 
meet  a passing  exigency,  and  cpfite  another  spontaneously  to  give  “a  local 
habitation  and  a name”  to  thought  and  feeling,  that  crave  utterance  for 
their  own  sake.  Hence  in  all  worthy  criticism,  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
to  discriminate  between  these  two  species  of  labor.  In  literature,  the  de- 
mands of  occasion,  however  cleverly  supplied,  afford  no  scope  to  the  man 
of  genius.  Compare  a review  of  Sydney  Smith’s  with  his  sermons,  a lyric 
of  Campbell’s  with  one  of  his  biographies,  or  a letter  of  Walpole’s  with  his 
romance.  In  the  fine  arts  also,  there  are  certain  expedients  to  which  the 
needs  of  the  moment  compel  a resort  ; and  they  inspire  so  little  interest, 
that  the  artist  seldom  does  himself  any  justice  in  the  premises.  It  is  on 
this  account  that  almost  every  gifted  devotee  of  liberal  pursuits,  deliberately 
selects  certain  themes  to  unfold  in  the  spirit  of  individuality  and  love,  and 


128 


Early  Portrait  Painters. 


consecrates  his  better  moments  to  a few  enterprises  which  enlist  his  best 
powers,  and  afford  permanent  trophies  of  renown.  Thus  Dante  conceived 
his  immortal  epic  ; and  Collins  his  classic  ode. 

A course  like  this  is  indispensable  for  the  American  artist.  The  call 
for  masterpieces  in  the  more  elevated  branches  of  painting  and  sculpture, 
is  altogether  too  casual  to  afford  the  means  of  subsistence,  even  to  the  most 
patient  industry.  Recourse  must  be  had  to  designing  and  portraiture,  and 
only  the  intervals  of  such  labor  given  to  more  exalted  aims.  If  this  be  done 
with  zeal  and  intelligence,  enough  may  be  accomplished  to  secure  a heritage 
of  fame,  and  yield  the  blissful  consciousness  of  true  success.  Creations 
thus  wrought  out,  apart  from  the  mechanical  routine  of  professional  life,  the 
offspring  of  lofty  ambition  and  lonely  self-devotion,  have  the  life  and  soul 
of  their  authors  in  them,  redeem  their  misfortunes,  and  perpetuate  their 
names. 

Such  are  the  Marius  and  Ariadne  of  Vanderlyn.  It  would  be  difficult 
to  imagine  two  single  figures  more  unlike  in  the  impression  they  convey, 
or  indicating  greater  versatility  of  genius.  The  one  embodies  the  Roman 
character  in  its  grandest  phase,  that  of  endurance  ; and  suggests  its  noblest 
association,  that  of  patriotism.  It  is  a type  of  manhood  in  its  serious,  re- 
sisting energy  and  indomitable  courage,  triumphant  over  thwarted  ambi- 
tion,—a stern,  heroic  figure,  self-sustained  and  calm,  seated  in  meditation 
amid  prostrate  columns  which  symbolize  his  fallen  fortunes,  and  an  outward 
solitude  which  reflects  the  desolation  of  his  exile  ; the  other  an  ideal  of 
female  beauty  reposing  upon  the  luxury  of  its  own  sensations,  lost  in  a radi- 
ant sleep,  and  yielding  with  child-like  self-abandonment  to  dreams  of  love  : 

How  like  a vision  of  pure  love  she  seems  ! 

Her  cheek  just  flushed  with  innocent  repose, 

That  folds  her  thoughts  up  in  delicious  dreams, 

Like  dew-drops  in  the  chalice  of  a rose  ; 

Pillowed  upon  her  arm  and  raven  hair, 

How  archly  rests  that  bright  and  peaceful  brow; 

Its  rounded  pearl  defiance  bids  to  care, 

While  kisses  on  the  lips  seem  melting  now  : 

Prone  in  unconscious  loveliness  she  lies, 

And  leaves  around  her  delicately  sway  ; 

Veiled  is  the  splendor  of  her  beaming  eyes, 

But  o’er  the  limbs  bewitching  graces  play  ; 

Ere  into  Eden’s  groves  the  serpent  crept, 

Thus  Eve  within  her  leafy  arbor  slept ! 

“ I think,”  writes  a reminiscent  critic,  “ that  the  first  pidlure  I saw  in  New 
York  was  Vanderlyn’s  Ariadne,  and  it  must  have  been  in  1822  or  1823.  I went 
to  the  Rotunda  in  the  Park  to  see  his  panorama,  then  on  exhibition,  and  on 
coming  out  saw  this  picture  in  a small  side  room.”  When  these  two  works 
were  originally  exhibited  in  Boston,  they  were  offered  to  the  Athenaeum 
for  five  hundred  dollars  each,  and  declined  ; Durand  afterwards  purchased 
the  Ariadne  to  engrave,  for  six  hundred  dollars  ; and,  after  having  it  in  his 
possession  twenty  years,  sold  it  to  Mr.  Joseph  Harrison,  of  Philadelphia, 
for  five  thousand  dollars  ; it  is  still  a prominent  ornament  of  that  gentle- 


Vanderlyn.  129 

man’s  fine  collection  ; while  the  Marius  is  now  in  San  Francisco,  in  the 
possession  of  Bishop  Kip.  Of  this  work  Vanderlyn  thus  writes  : 

“ The  picture  was  painted  in  Rome,  during  the  second  year  of  my  stay 
there, — 1807.  Rome  was  well  adapted  for  the  painting  of  such  a subjebt, 
abounding  in  classical  ruins,  of  which  I endeavored  to  avail  myself,  and  I 
think  it  also  furnishes  better  models  and  specimens  of  the  human  form 
and  charabler  than  our  own  country,  or  even  France  or  England.  And  it 
is  much  more  free  from  the  fashion  and  frivolities  of  life  than  most  other 
places.  The  reception  Marius  met  in  Rome,  when  exhibited,  from  the 
artists  there  from  various  parts  of  Europe,  was  full  as  flattering  to  me  as 
the  award  of  the  Napoleon  gold  medal  which  it  received  the  next  year  in 
Paris.  It  gave  me  reputation  there,  and  from  an  impartial  source,  mostly 
strangers  to  me.  I had  the  pleasure  of  having  Washington  Allston  for  a 
neighbor  in  Rome, — an  excellent  friend  and  companion,  whose  encourag- 
ing counsels  I found  useful  to  me,  as  in  all  my  embarrassments  he  readily 
sympathized  with  me.  We  were  the  only  American  students  of  art  in  Rome 
at  that  time,  and  regretted  not  to  have  had  a few  more,  as  was  the  case 
with  those  from  most  other  countries.  In  a stroll  on  the  Campagna, 
between  Rome,  Albano,  and  Frascati,  in  the  month  of  May,  in  company 
with  a couple  of  other  students,  one  a Russian,  we  came  upon  the  old 
ruins  of  Roma  Vecchia,  where  a fox  was  started  from  its  hiding-place  ; 
and  this  was  the  cause  of  my  introducing  one  in  the  distance  of  my  pibture, 
— too  trifling  a fact,  perhaps,  to  mention.” 

Bishop  Kip  has  recently  given  to  the  public  some  interesting  personal 
reminiscences  of  Vanderlyn.*  Of  the  pibture  of  Marius  he  says  : 

“ The  work  is  intended  to  represent  Marius,  when,  after  his  defeat  by 
Sylla,  and  the  desertion  of  his  friends,  he  had  taken  refuge  in  Africa.  He 
had  just  landed,  when  an  officer  came  and  thus  addressed  him  : ‘ Marius, 
I come  from  the  Praetor  Sextilius,  to  tell  you  that  he  forbids  you  to  set 
foot  in  Africa.  If  you  obey  not,  he  will  support  the  Senate’s  decree,  and 
treat  you  as  the  public  enemy.’  Marius,  struck  dumb  with  indignation  on 
hearing  this,  uttered  not  a word  for  some  time,  but  regarded  the  officer 
with  a menacing  aspebt.  At  length,  being  asked  what  answer  should  be 
carried  to  the  governor,  ‘ Go  and  tell  him,’  said  he,  ‘that  thou  hast  seen 
Marius  sitting  on  the  ruins  of  Carthage.’  Thus,  in  the  happiest  manner, 
he  held  up  the  fate  of  that  city  and  his  own  as  a warning  to  the  Praetor. 

u He  sits,  after  having  delivered  this  answer,  with  his  toga  just  falling  off 
his  shoulders,  and  leaning  on  his  short  Roman  sword.  His  helmet  is  at 
his  feet ; the  ruins  of  Rome’s  old  rival  are  around  him  ; and  at  a distance, 
through  the  arches  of  the  aquedubt,  are  seen  the  blue  waters  of  the  Medi- 
terranean. Under  his  left  hand  is  the  opening  of  one  of  those  mighty 
sewers  which  now  form  the  only  remains  of  ancient  Carthage,  and  at  his 
right  elbow  is  an  overthrown  Phoenician  altar,  on  which  we  can  trace  the 
sculptured  ram’s  head  and  garlands.  In  the  distance  is  a temple,  with  one 


* In  the  Atlantic  Monthly  for  February,  1867. 

9 


130  American  Artist  Life : 

of  its  pillars  fallen,  while  a fox  is  seen  among  the  ruins  in  front  of  its 
portico. 

“ The  figure  of  Marius  was  copied  by  Vanderlyn,  in  Rome,  from  one  of 
the  Pope’s  guards,  remarkable  for  his  Herculean  proportions,  and  the  head 
was  taken  from  a bust  of  Marius,  bearing  his  name,  which  had  been  dug 
up  in  Italy.  Any  one  familiar  with  the  ruins  in  the  south  of  Europe  will 
at  once  recognize  the  composition  of  the  different  parts  of  the  picture. 
The  temple  in  the  background  is  similar  to  the  Parthenon  at  Athens  ; the 
massive  remains  which  tower  over  the  head  of  Marius  are  like  those  of  the 
villa  of  Hadrian,  near  Rome  ; while  the  ruined  aqueduct  in  the  distance  is 
copied  from  the  Claudian  aquedudt,  which,  with  its  broken  arches,  sweeps 
over  the  desolate  Campagna,  from  the  city  to  the  distant  Alban  Hills.” 
Napoleon  himself  is  s-aid  to  have  been  exceedingly  struck  with  the 
grandeur  of  its  design.  He  was  anxious  indeed  to  become  the  purchaser 
of  the  picture,  and  to  have  it  placed  permanently  in  the  Louvre  ; but  Van- 
derlyn declined,  as  he  wished  to  carry  it  to  his  own  country.  It  is  stated 
that  the  Emperor  passed  through  the  gallery,  accompanied  by  the  Baron 
Denon  and  his  artistic  staff,  and  inspected  all  the  pictures.  Then  he 
walked  quickly  back  to  the  “ Marius,”  and  bringing  down  his  forefinger,  as 
he  pointed  to  it,  said,  in  his  usual  rapid  way,  “Give  the  medal  to  that ! ” 
Twice  the  poor  and  proud  artist  was  forced  to  pawn  this  trophy  of  his 
early  success. 

“ My  father,”  says  the  same  writer,  “accidentally  discovered  that  the 
Napoleon  gold  medal  was  pawned  in  New  York  for  thirty  dollars,  and 
redeemed  it.  After  keeping  it  some  time,  he  returned  it  to  Vanderlyn.” 
The  Napoleon  medals,  executed  under  the  direction  of  the  Baron  Denon, 
were  celebrated  in  Europe.  This  one  was  the  medal  always  used  by  the 
Emperor  for  rewarding  civil  services.  On  one  side  was  a splendid  head 
of  Napoleon,  and  on  the  other  a wreath  of  laurel,  within  which  was  the 
vacant  space  for  engraving  the  name  of  the  recipient,  and  the  reason  of  the 
award.  Vanderlyn’s  medal  had  engraved  on  it, — 

Exposition 
au  Salon 
de  1808. 

John 

Vanderlyn 

Peintre. 

Subsequently,  when  Bishop  Kip  was  in  Europe,  he  suspedted  Vanderlyn 
had  again  parted  with  the  medal,  and  seeking  him  at  the  Louvre,  a long 
dialogue  ensued,  during  which  the  artist,  who  was  morbidly  irate  from 
temperament  and  repeated  disappointments,  attempted  to  evade  a diredt 
reply  to  his  friendly  inquirer,  but  at  length  he  said: 

“ The  truth  is,  sir,  that,  being  in  want  of  funds,  I was  obliged  to  place  it 


Vanderlyn.  1 3 1 

in  the  hands  of  a friend.  I shall  keep  the  medal  as  long  as  I live,  and 
then  I don’t  care  what  becomes  of  it.’’ 

Again  the  son  took  the  medal  out  of  pawn  in  Paris  as  his  father  had  in 
New  York. 

“ A few  months  afterwards,”  he  writes,  “ Crawford,  the  sculptor,  sent 
to  me,  in  the  name  of  a number  of  artists,  to  inquire  whether  they  could 
redeem  the  medal,  which  they  wished  to  present  as  a compliment  to  Van- 
derlyn. I declined,  for  it  was  the  second  time  it  had  been  in  the  posses- 
sion of  my  family,  and,  if  returned  to  Vanderlyn,  it  would  probably  soon 
again  pass  out  of  his  hands.” 

Having  thus  painted  two  great  pictures  in  the  prime  of  youthful  zeal 
and  strength,  Vanderlyn’s  first  success  made  him  intent  only  on  great 
commissions,  and,  not  obtaining  these,  he  tried  every  expedient  for  sub- 
sistence and  fortune,  except  methodical  painting : panoramas,  rotunda 
galleries,  and  occasional  portraits  were  but  precarious  resources  ; his 
likenesses  were  unequal,  and  slowly  achieved.  He  also  made  several 
copies, — one  of  Stuart’s  Washington,  now  in  the  United  States  House  of 
Representatives  ; and  his  copy  of  the  Demoniac  Boy  in  the  “Transfigura- 
tion” of  Raphael,  is  in  the  possession  of  James  Lenox,  Esq.,  of  New 
York.  His  portrait  of  Governor  Yates,  and  of  Presidents  Jackson, 
Monroe,  and  Taylor,  and  of  Mayor  Hone,  are  in  the  Governor’s  room  of 
the  New  York  City  Hall;  that  of  D.  B.  Warden  in  the  State  Library  at 
Albany.  Contrasted  with  these  casual  performances  his  early  prestige 
must  have  excited  discouraging  moods.  In  a letter  from  Paris,  dated 
November,  1843,  after  alluding  to  the  death  of  Allston,  he  says  : 

“ When  I look  back,  some  five  or  six  and  thirty  years  since,  when  we 
were  both  in  Rome  together,  and  next  door  neighbors  on  the  Trinita  del 
Monte,  and  in  the  spring  of  life,  full  of  enthusiasm  for  our  art,  and  fancy- 
ing fair  prospers  awaiting  us,  in  after  years,  it  is  painful  to  refleCt  how 
far  these  hopes  have  been  from  being  realized.” 

It  is  a striking  coincidence,  that  among  those  who  first  appreciated  his 
talents,  and  encouraged  their  development,  were  two  individuals,  remem- 
bered for  very  different  qualities,  but  alike  in  possessing  the  insight  and  the 
sympathy  which  readily  makes  fellowship  with  genius, — the  author  of  Hasty 
Pudding  and  the  Columbiad,  and  the  subtle  lawyer  and  ambitious  politi- 
cian,— Joel  Barlow  and  Aaron  Burr.  Many  years  of  Vanderlyn’s  life  were 
passed  abroad.  Paris  was  his  favorite  residence  ; and  his  last  work  was 
there  executed  for  one  of  the  panels  of  the  Capitol.  It  represents  the 
“ Landing  of  Columbus,”  and  though  excellent  in  parts,  is  a respectable, 
rather  than  a great  picture. 

One  of  the  many  causes  which  rendered  Vanderlyn  morose  in  his  later 
years,  was  the  rumor  that  the  reputed  painter  of  two  very  fine  and  a great 
number  of  mediocre  pictures,  must  have  been  aided  in  the  execution  of 
the  tormer  : and  it  is  somewhat  curious  that  Bishop  Kip  accounts  for  the 
inferiority  of  the  “ Landing  of  Columbus,”  by  a like  hypothesis  : 

“ In  1844,”  he  observes,  “ I was  in  Paris,  and  inquiring  about  the 


132 


American  Artist  Life. 


picture,  found  that  it  was  advancing  under  the  hand  of  a clever  French 
artist  whom  Vanderlyn  had  employed.  Of  course,  the  conception  and  de- 
sign were  his  own,  but  I believe  little  of  the  actual  work.  In  fact,  no  one 
familiar  with  Vanderlyn’s  early  style  could  ever  imagine  the  ‘ Columbus’ 
to  be  his.  Place  it  by  the  side  of  the  ‘ Marius,’  and  you  see  that  they  are 
evidently  executed  by  different  artists.  The  ‘ Marius’  has  the  dark,  severe 
tone  of  the  old  masters  ; the  ‘ Landing  of  Columbus’  is  a flashy  modern 
French  painting.” 

One  reason,  however,  of  the  limited  number  of  this  artist’s  works  may 
be  found  in  the  faCt  that  much  of  his  time  was  given  to  artistic  enterprises 
wherein  executive,  rather  than  professional  ability,  was  enlisted  ; and  ano- 
ther reason  is,  that  he  worked  with  extraordinary  deliberation  : on  this  sub- 
ject we  are  indebted  to  the^same  interesting  reminiscent  sketch  from  which 
we  have  already  quoted,  for  the  following  illustration  : 

“ Vanderlyn  painted  very  slowly  and  elaborately,  as  I know  to  my  cost. 
Believing  that  Burr’s  estimate  of  him  was  correct,  and  that  he  was  our 
ablest  American  artist,  I had  always  been  very  desirous  to  have  him  paint 
the  portraits  of  my  father  and  mother.  In  1833,  accidentally  meeting  him 
in  New  York,  I proposed  to  him  to  undertake  the  work  ; but  he  declined, 
alleging  that  he  had  no  studio.  I found  him  living  at  an  obscure  French 
boarding-house  in  Church  street,  and  I proposed  to  him  to  come  to  my 
father’s  house  and  use  the  library  as  a studio.  So  he  came,  blocked  up  the 
windows,  except  a square  place  in  the  top  of  one  of  them,  and  began  his 
pictures.  It  was  in  the  autumn  when  he  commenced,  and  the  winter  was 
nearly  over  when  he  finished.  I wanted  to  use  the  library  for  my  studies, 
and  tired  enough  I was  at  the  long  exclusion.  My  mother  sat  for  a couple 
of  hours  in  the  morning,  and  my  father  in  the  afternoon,  and  each  of  them 
had  about  sixty  sittings.  In  this  way  the  whole  winter  was  spent.  He 
made  fine  pictures,  of  course,  but  the  victimized  sitters  felt  that  the  cost 
was  too  great.” 

There  is  what  may  be  called  a physiognomy  in  cities.  Viewed  from  an 
eminence,  the  manner  in  which  the  houses  cluster,  and  the  streets  diverge, 
the  architecture  of  the  towers  which  rise  above  the  dense  and  monotonous 
buildings,  the  kind  of  country  which  surrounds,  and  sky  which  canopies 
the  scene,  are  so  many  distinctive  features  which  mark  the  picture.  It  is 
a pleasant  thing  to  note  observantly  renowned  sites  in  this  expansive  way. 
By  so  doing  the  memory  is  stored  with  impressive  images,  and  possessed 
with  what  may  be  called  the  natural  language  of  an  interesting  locality.  In 
looking,  for  instance,  from  the  top  of  the  Capitol  upon  Rome,  the  time-worn 
monuments  immediately  below,  and  the  range  of  broken  aqueducts  span- 
ning the  far  Campagna,  instantly  revive  the  associations  of  ancient  Rome  ; 
the  lines  of  cypresses  and  firs  that  spring  at  intervals  from  palace  and  con- 
vent gardens,  awaken  Christian  memories  ; while  the  adjacent  domes  and 
houses  assure  the  spectator  that  he  is  surrounded  by  modern  civilization. 
Thus  simultaneously  he  realizes  the  poetry  of  the  scene,  which,  explored 
in  detail,  yielded  food  for  curiosity,  rather  than  sublime  emotion.  The 


Vandcrlyn. 


133 


prospect  from  the  campanile  of  Venice  also  brings  into  effective  contrast, 
the  sea  espoused  in  the  clay  of  her  prosperity,  and  associated  with  all  her 
glory,  the  radiant  heavens  and  transparent  atmosphere  which  taught  Vero- 
nese and  Titiam  the  mysteries  of  color,  and  the  oriental  style  of  architec- 
ture, the  most  expressive  trophy  of  her  eastern  triumphs.  The  verdant 
hills  which  embosom  Florence,  and  the  boundless  plains  which  stretch  in 
all  directions  around  Milan,  as  seen  from  the  cathedral,  are  features  which 
eloquently  illustrate  the  history  of  each,  and  whether  alive  with  soldiery  to 
the  imagination,  or  green  with  luxuriant  vegetation  to  the  eye,  are  requisite 
to  fill  out  the  landscape  for  both. 

These  scenic  enjoyments  have  been  widely  disseminated  by  modern  art, 
and  panoramas  of  the  famous  cities  and  scenery  of  the  world  render  them 
familiar  to  un travelled  multitudes.  The  accuracy  and  illusions  of  these 
experiments  are  sometimes  marvellous.  We  remember,  several  years 
since,  at  Paris,  to  have  gazed  upon  a panorama  of  the  Alps,  for  a long 
time,  beneath  which  some  goats  were  browsing  on  the  line,  as  it  were,  of 
the  rich  valley  over  which  the  mountain  pinnacles  towered  in  the  most 
perfect  aerial  perspective— in  the  vain  attempt  to  distinguish  the  point  of 
separation  between  the  real  and  the  portrayed.  As  exhibition  works, 
panoramas  are  very  desirable.  They  afford  satisfactory  though  general 
ideas,  gratify  intelligent  curiosity,  and  appeal  most  vividly  to  the  imagina- 
tion. It  is  not  surprising  that  those  of  Jerusalem,  Athens,  and  Rome, 
attracted  such  crowds  both  here  and  abroad.  When  artistically  designed, 
they  are  invaluable  aids  to  the  student  of  geography,  and  a source  of 
infinite  delight  to  the  enthusiast  for  hallowed  regions,  which  it  is  not  in 
his  power  to  visit.  After  having  received  the  Napoleon  gold  medal  for 
his  Marius,  at  Paris,  Vanderlyn  conceived  the  idea  of  availing  himself  of 
the  existent  taste  for  panoramic  exhibitions,  by  executing  one  on  a grand 
scale,  of  the  celebrated  residence  of  the  French  Kings.  He  accordingly 
employed  several  months  at  Versailles  in  preparing  the  necessary 
sketches,  and  after  the  peace  of  1815,  returned  with  them  to  America. 
The  result  was  satisfactory  to  such  a degree,  that  he  formed  a projeCt  for 
an  institution  in  .New  York,  devoted  to  this  and  similar  objeCts  ; and 
views  of  Paris,  Athens,  Mexico,  and  Geneva,  as  well  as  three  modern 
battle-pieces,  were  successively  exhibited  at  the  Rotunda,  a building 
which  the  artist  ereCted  in  conjunction  with  the  city  government.  Like 
most  alliances  between  men  of  totally  diverse  aims  and  feelings — this 
partnership  was  disastrous,  especially  as  regards  the  artist ; who  lived  to 
see  the  structure  he  had  dedicated  to  the  fine  arts,  transformed  into  a 
criminal  court.  It  would  be  a needless  exercise  of  patience  to  enumerate 
the  series  of  mortifying  controversies  and  pecuniary  troubles  growing  out 
of  this  unfortunate  enterprise.  Devoted  to  his  art,  and  full  of  the  sympa- 
thies inspired  by  the  recognition  he  had  enjoyed  in  Europe,  the  painter  of 
Marius  and  Ariadne  was  made  to  realize  in  a painful  manner,  the  antago- 
nism between  an  essentially  practical  community  and  the  spirit  of  trade, 
and  artistic  enthusiasm.  “A  sense  of  impossibility  quenches  all  will,” 


134 


American  Artist  Life. 

says  an  acute  writer.  Vanderlyn  does  not  seem  to  have  been  fully  aware, 
until  sad  experience  forced  the  conviction  upon  his  mind,  that  the  stage 
of  civilization,  the  history  of  the  republic,  and  inevitable  circumstances 
rendered  it  quite  impossible  for  the  cause  of  Art  to  find  its  just  position, 
and  the  practical  acknowledgment  of  its  claims,  at  the  period  when  he 
urged  them  upon  his  fellow-citizens.  Utility,  the  basis  of  national  growth, 
still  demanded  an  exclusive  regard  ; the  time  had  scarcely  arrived  when 
the  superstructure  of  the  beautiful  could  be  reared.  Meantime,  the  po- 
litical advantages,  mechanical  genius,  and  commercial  activity  of  the 
United  States  were  the  source  of  universal  wonder  and  congratulation. 
Yet  we  can  easily  forgive  the  ardent  votary  of  a noble  art,  after  successful 
competition  for  its  highest  foreign  honors,  for  yielding  to  a feeling  of 
disappointment,  bitter  in ‘proportion  to  his  natural  sensitiveness,  at  the 
indifference  and  calculation  against  which  he  so  vainly  strove  in  the  land 
of  his  nativity.  This  distrust  was  increased  by  the  charge  of  indelicacy 
somewhat  grossly  urged  against  his  works,  by  ignorant  prudery,  which, 
destitute  of  the  soul  to  perceive  the  essential  beauty  of  the  creator’s 
masterpieces,  has  yet  the  hardihood  to  impugn  the  motives  of  genius,  and 
desecrate  by  vulgar  comments,  the  most  beautiful  evidences  of  its  truth. 

One  who  knew  Vanderlyn  in  his  latter  days,  has  thus  recorded  their 
melancholy  close  : 

“ Alternately  engaged  in  portrait-painting  at  Washington  and  visiting 
the  scenes  of  his  native  place,  one  pleasant  morning  in  the  autumn  of 
1852,  on  his  way  from  Rondout  to  Kingston,  Vanderlyn  fell  in  with  a 
friend,  and  craved  a shilling  to  pay  for  the  transport  of  his  baggage  from 
the  steamboat  to  the  town.  He  was  ill,  and,  on  reaching  the  hotel,  retired 
at  once.  His  friend  meanwhile,  to  whom  was  thus  accidentally  revealed 
the  artist’s  destitute  condition,  went  about  the  neighborhood,  to  collect  the 
means  for  his  present  relief.  Vanderlyn  requested  to  be  left  alone  ; and, 
the  ensuing  morning,  was  found  dead  in  bed,  in  a low  room  that  looked 
out  into  a stable-yard,  without  even  a curtain  to  shield  his  dying  eyes  from 
the  sunlight.  His  left  hand  seemed  as  if  grasping  his  palette,  and  a look 
of  calm,  heroic  submission  upon  his  face  told  how  grandly  he  had  passed. 
Upon  the  level  plateau  which  crowns  the  eastern  slope  of  the  valley,  they 
have  laid  out  a cemetery,  in  all  the  hardness  and  stiffness  of  which  angles 
are  capable,  underneath  the  low  pines  which  grow  as  thick  as  canes  in  a 
brake.  Here  Vanderlyn  lies  buried,  with  nothing  but  the  swelling  sod 
which  covers  his  breast  to  mark  his  grave.  He  sleeps  in  the  arms  of  that 
sweet  refuge,  which  follows  the  flying  hopes  of  youth,  the  scattered  long- 
ings of  ambition,  and  the  broken  promises  of  fame.”* 

At  a later  period  another  thus  speaks  of  a visit  to  his  grave  : 

“ The  writer  yesterday  stood  beside  the  grave  of  Vanderlyn,  the  artist. 
He  is  buried  near  the  southern  extremity  of  the  beautiful  village  of  the 
dead,  called  ‘ Wiltwyck  Cemetery,’  at  Kingston,  N.  Y.  There  is  no  stone, 


* Letter  in  the  “ Crayon.” 


Vanderlyn. 


135 


nor  even  mound,  to  mark  the  spot : only  a few  vines  twining  and  inter- 
twining, like  the  network  of  the  life  that  was,  but  which  now  is  for  ever 
ended.  Patches  of  snow  lay  on  the  ground,  and  the  trees  still  stood  dis- 
robed, save  where,  here  and  there,  on  the  compact  foliage  of  the  cedars, 
the  snow  clung,  making  them  seem  like  those  twilight  spectres  which,  in 
the  old  Norse  legends,  were  said  to  haunt  ruins.” 

As  if  to  complete  the  melancholy  coincidences  of  his  destiny — the  record 
of  Vanderlyn’s  experience,  which  would  have  explained  and  perhaps 
greatly  excused  his  waywardness,  and  afforded  a unique  illustration  of 
American  artist-life,  was  lost.  During  his  later  years  he  freely  and 
frankly  communicated  the  fa<5ts  of  his  life,  in  detail,  to  a friend,  who  kept 
careful  notes  of  their  conversations.  After  the  artist’s  death,  this  interest- 
ing MS.  was  sent  to  a New  York  publishing- house,  whose  edifice  was 
soon  after  destroyed  by  fire,  and  among  other  works  that  perished,  was 
this  authentic  biography  of  Vanderlyn. 


A L L S T O N. 


HE  true  significance  of  Painting  is  one  of  the  most  pleasing 
discoveries  which  an  American  of  sensibility  and  good 
powers  of  observation,  makes  when  sojourning  in  one  of 
the  old  cities  of  Europe.  He  may  have  enjoyed  pictures 
casually  at  home,  and  perhaps  acquainted  himself  with  the 
traits  and  the  triumphs  of  eminent  artists  and  schools  ; but 
it  is  only  when  he  grows  familiar  with  the  best  collections,  the  permanent 
galleries  abroad,  that  he  distinctly  feels  what  scope  and  interest  belongs  to 
piCtorial  art  as  a specific  development  of  humanity — an  illustration  of  his- 
tory— a record  of  faith  : at  Rome  and  Madrid,  Paris  and  Florence,  it  is 
upon  canvas  that  he  reads  the  most  vivid  ideas,  sentiments,  and  skill  of 
bygone  generations.  Art  comes  home  to  his  perceptions  as  a language 
wherein  is  expressed  the  love  of  beauty,  the  struggle  with  fate,  the  power, 
puerility,  hope,  fear,  trust,  and  triumph  of  his  race.  Reason  as  he  may 
subsequently  of  the  comparative  merits  of  the  “ old  masters,”  modified  as 
may  become  his  taste  by  the  study  of  recent  painters, — this  impression 
remains, — that  the  executive  perfection,  the  characteristic  style,  and  the 
beautiful  earnestness  of  pictorial  art,  three  hundred  years  ago,  was  and  is 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  aesthetic  phenomena,  as  well  as  one  of  the 
most  interesting  historical  faCts  in  human  history.  A “ Painter  ” in  the 
fifteenth  century  meant  something  more  than  a clever  draughtsman,  an  apt 
imitator,  or  a pleasant  diletante  : the  vocation  was  intimately  allied  with 
Religion,  with  Government,  and  with  Society  in  the  highest  phase  and  form. 
It  was  pursued  with  a zeal,  honored  with  a consideration,  and  illustrated 
by  a class  of  men,  which,  apart  from  its  trophies,  indicates  that  no  profession 
achieved  nobler  estimation  or  influence.  The  lives  and  works  of  its  vota- 
ries suggest  a not  less  remarkable  individuality  and  elevation  : the  biogra- 
phy of  no  Prince  or  Pope,  Warrior  or  Poet  conveys  the  idea  of  more  seleCt 
intelligence  or  concentrated  and  consecrated  feeling,  thought,  life,  and 
renown,  than  that  of  the  greatest  of  the  “old  masters.”  That  title  pre- 
supposes not  only  a remarkable  facility  and  power  in  the  technicalities  of 
art,  but  certain  rich  and  rare  endowments  ; — poetical  sympathies,  philo- 
sophical insight,  redtitude,  aspiration,  a hearty  courtesy,  faith  in  God  and 
immortality,  self-devotion,  self-reliance,  self-respect— graces  and  gran- 


Alls  ton. 


137 


deur  of  soul.  Not  that  the  painter  then,  any  more  than  now,  was  free 
from  human  error,  nor  that  his  record  is  devoid  of  low  and  cruel  traits — 
jealousy,  sensuality,  and  egotistic  hardihood  ; but,  at  the  period  when 
painting  achieved  its  highest  results,  the  ideal  of  the  painter’s  character 
was  venerable,  tender,  exalted  ; and  the  very  names  of  Michel  Angelo, 
Raphael,  and  Correggio  are  fragrant  with  the  best  gifts  and  graces  of 
humanity : of  which  the  grand  and  beautiful  elements  of  their  pictures 
were  the  legitimate  offspring  and  evidence.  To  draw  accurately  and  give 
expression — individual  and  absolute,  through  lines,  contours,  and  light  and 
shade,  and  to  enhance  such  effects  by  that  wonderful  faculty  called  “a 
feeling  for  color  ” — were  but  the  artistic  equipment ; the  soul,  the  mind, 
the  life  irradiated  and  hallowed  the  fruits  thereof,  and  make  it  to-day  mar- 
vellous, dear,  and  sacred. 

It  is  a singular  fact  that  the  man  among. modern  painters,  who,  in  tone  of 
mind,  spiritual  sympathies,  in  scope,  aptitude,  habits  of  life,  literary  and 
social  tastes,  in  character,  artistic  achievement,  and  even  personal  appear- 
ance, most  nearly  resembled  our  ideal  of  an  old  master,  was  born  and  bred 
in  the  New  World,  and  developed,  as  it  were  intuitively,  these  tendencies 
and  traits  : the  best  evidence  of  this  curious  and  interesting  exception  to  a 
general  rule,  is,  of  course,  to  be  found  in  his  pictures  ; but  every  anecdote, 
recorded  conversation,  personal  reminiscence,  and  authentic  portrait,  every 
letter,  sketch,  and  casual  impression,  of  Washington  Allston  coincides  with 
and  confirms  the  testimony  of  his  art.  His  gifted  kinsman,*  not  less  allied 
by  intelledtual  and  moral  ties  than  by  relationship,  who  alone  has  the 
materials  and  the  authority  to  fully  describe  and  illustrate  the  career  of  our 
great  painter — has  postponed  indefinitely  his  delicate  and  dutiful  task  : 
let  us,  at  least,  gather  up  the  patent  fadts,  and  glance  at  the  high  and  pure 
significance  of  a life  “to  all  the  Muses  dear.” 

Since  the  taste  in  pidtorial  art  has  been  so  essentially  modified  by  the 
triumphs  of  the  modern  school,  a certain  class  of  critics  have  denied  the 
claims  of  Allston  to  the  high  rank  and  influence  so  ardently  accorded 
him  by  cotemporary  admirers  : they  declare  his  power  of  expression 
limited,  accuse  him  of  objedtionable  mannerism,  and  indicate  technical 
defedts  in  special  works.  But  such  critics  are  but  partially  acquainted 
with  what  Allston  really  accomplished,  and  apparently  know  nothing  of 
the  personal  influence,  the  lofty  aims,  and  the  English  reputation  he  en- 
joyed. That  his  place  in  the  history  of  American  art  is  one  of  singular 
honor  and  interest,  and  his  career  and  charadter  invested  with  a perma- 
nent charm  to  every  lover  of  truth  and  beauty,  is  apparent  to  all  candid 
inquirers. 

William  Ware,  whose  “Zenobia,”  “Probus,”  and  “Aurelian,”  so  well 
attest  his  classic  knowledge,  as  well  as  his  artistic  sympathies,  found  in 
Allston  a congenial  subjedt  for  aesthetic  discourse  ; f and  a lady  accom- 


* R.  H.  Dana,  Sen. 

t Lectures  on  the  Works  and  Genius  of  Washington  Allston.  Boston  : Ware,  1852. 


138  American  Artist  Life. 

plished  in  the  practice,  as  well  as  the  study  of  art,  thus  indicates  his  mode 
of  painting : 

“ The  method  of  this  artist  was  to  suppress  all  the  coarser  beauties  which 
make  up  the  substance  of  common  pictures.  He  was  the  least  ad  captan- 
dum  of  workers.  He  avoided  bright  eyes,  curls,  and  contours,  glancing 
lights,  strong  contrasts,  and  colors  too  crude  for  harmony.  He  reduced 
his  beauty  to  elements,  so  that  an  inner  beauty  might  play  through  her 
features.  Like  the  Catholic  discipline  which  pales  the  face  of  the  novice 
with  vigils,  seclusion,  and  fasting,  and  thus  makes  room  and  clears  the  way 
for  the  movements  of  the  spirit,  so  in  these  figures  every  vulgar  grace  is 
suppressed.  No  classic  contours,  no  languishing  attitudes,  no  asking  for 
admiration, — but  a severe  and  chaste  restraint,  a modest  sweetness,  a 
slumbering  intellectual  atmosphere,  a graceful  self-possession,  eyes  so  sin- 
cere and  pure  that  heaven’s  light  shines  through  them,  and,  beyond  all,  a 
hovering  spiritual  life  that  makes  each  form  a presence.”  * 

Washington  Allstonf  was  born  at  Waccamaw,  S.  C.,  on  the  plantation 
of  his  father,  Nov.  5,  1779,  and  died  at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  July  9,  1843. 
His  temperament  was  highly  nervous,  his  mind  quick  and  aCtive,  and  his 
sensibility  acute.  As  is  usual  under  such  conditions,  his  health  was  deli- 
cate, and  it  became  evident  in  his  youth  that  a more  bracing  climate  than 
that  of  his  native  state  was  essential  to  his  harmonious  physical  develop- 
ment, while  a greater  variety  and  scope  than  are  afforded  by  the  life  of  an 
isolated  plantation,  were  requisite  to  inform  and  discipline  his  intellect. 
Physician  and  teacher  thus  united  in  advising  the  removal  of  the  gifted  boy 
to  a northern  school ; and  the  exigency  proved  auspicious  to  the  future  ar- 
tist, by  introducing  him  to  scenes  and  influences  which  gave  new  vigor  to 
his  frame,  and  impulse  to  his  genius.  At  that  period  there  was  no  town  in 
New  England  that  boasted  a more  cultivated  and  wealthy  community  than 
Newport,  R.  I.  Trade  had  enriched  many  of  its  resident  merchants.  Dr. 
Waterhouse  cites  its  laboratories  as  the  best  in  the  country;  a tolerant 
spirit  among  the  rival  seCts,  frequent  intercourse  with  foreigners,  and  habits 
of  colonial  elegance  and  hospitality,  combined  to  give  a liberal  spirit  and 
attractive  manner  to  the  social  life  of  this  favorite  rendezvous  of  our  French 
allies  during  the  war  of  independence.  Allston  was  sent  there,  primarily 
with  a view  to  health,  at  the  age  of  seven  ; but  he  remained  ten  years,  and 
attended  a very  excellent  private  school  kept  by  Robert  Rogers.  Slight  as 
was  the  taste  and  unfrequent  the  praCtice  of  art  at  that  time  among  us, 
Newport  enjoyed  an  unusual  share  of  the  few  associations  connected  with 
a pursuit  so  interesting  to  the  Carolina  boy,  whose  school-days  were  passed 
there.  The  first  English  painter  of  note  who  visited  our  shores,  had  ac- 
companied Dean  Berkeley  in  1728  011  his  voyage  to  Rhode  Island  ; and  we 
have  the  artist’s  record  of  a visit  with  his  clerical  friend,  to  the  Indians  of 
Narragansett ; where  also  Gilbert  Stuart  was  born  in  1 757,  and  owed  his  first 


* Sarah  Clarke  on  Allston’s  Heads,  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  February,  1865. 
t A part  of  this  sketch  was  contributed  by  the  author  to  the  New  American  Encyclopedia. 


Allston. 


139 


encouragement  as  a painter  to  the  kindness  of  Newport  friends.  While 
Allston  was  a schoolboy  there,  a manufacturer  of  quadrants  and  compasses, 
by  the  name  of  King,  who  had  received  a partial  artistic  education,  some- 
times painted  a portrait ; he  recognised  young  Allston’s  genius,  and  did  all 
in  his  power,  by  correcting  his  early  attempts  and  suggesting  the  best  me- 
thods, to  develop  the  ability  and  cheer  the  hopes  of  the  novice.  Long  after- 
wards his  casual  pupil  spoke  of  him  with  gratitude  : “ It  was  a pleasant  thing 
to  me,”  he  wrote,  “ to  remind  the  old  man  of  those  kindnesses.”  A portrait 
of  this  venerable  friend — probably  one  of  the  earliest  experiments  of  Allston 
in  oil — still  exists  at  Newport ; the  head  is  noble  in  contour,  and  the  expres- 
sion benign  ; a discriminating  eye  can  only  perceive  distinct  indications  of 
that  mellow  tone  and  felicity  in  coloring  which  subsequently  distinguished 
Allston’s  pictures.  In  addition,  however,  to  this  imperfeCt  and  incidental 
tuition,  gained  only  at  the  intervals  usually  dedicated  by  boys  to  amuse- 
ment, at  the  critical  time  when  childhood  began  to  merge  in  youth,  a new 
impulse  was  given  to  his  artist’s  instinCt,  by  the  magnetism  of  sympathy. 
He  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Edward  Malbone,  also  a native  of  Newport, 
whose  remarkable  promise  as  a miniature-painter,  was  united  to  personal 
qualities  and  intellectual  tastes  singularly  akin  to  those  of  Allston.  It  is 
easy  to  imagine  how  such  an  example  and  companionship,  at  a susceptible 
age,  and  a period  when  it  was  so  difficult  to  meet  with  congeniality  in  an 
uncommon  vocation,  must  have  confirmed  and  expanded  the  love  and  study 
of  art,  in  a mind  ostensibly  engaged  in  academic  education.  The  walks, 
discussions,  criticisms  of  each  other’s  drawings,  and,  above  all,  the  mutual 
enthusiasm  of  these  youths,  alike  gifted,  candid,  and  earnest,  seem  to  have 
been  of  great  mutual  advantage,  as  well  as  the  source  of  the  most  pure 
enjoyment.  Although  Malbone  removed  to  Providence,  R.  I.,  soon  after 
his  acquaintance  with  Allston,  their  intercourse  was  resumed  in  a few 
months,  when  the  painter  was  at  work  in  Boston,  and  the  student  a colle- 
gian at  Harvard.  After  graduating  in  the  year  1800,  Allston  went  to  Char- 
leston, S.  C.,  where  he  again  met  his  friend,  and  fairly  commenced  his  artist- 
life.  While  an  undergraduate  pursuing  his  studies  at  the  university,  All- 
ston not  only  enjoyed  the  society  but  emulated  the  artistic  skill  of  this 
charming  friend  ; he  was,  however,  dissatisfied  with  his  own  attempts  on 
ivory  and  in  miniature,  and  soon  abandoned  the  experiment.  His  leisure 
was  assiduously  given  to  sketching,  copying,  drawing,  and  the  investigation 
of  color.  With  the  comparative  absence  both  of  sympathy  and  example 
in  art,  it  is  interesting  to  inquire  what  means  the  future  painter  discovered, 
at  this  early  stage  of  his  education,  to  foster  and  discipline  his  genius.  Art 
was  then  in  its  infancy  among  us — chiefly  represented  by  the  elaborate  but 
artificial  portraits  of  Copley,  the  historical  groups  of  Trumbull,  and  the 
fame  of  West,  then  at  the  height  of  reputation  and  courtly  favor  in  Eng- 
land ; Stuart’s  vigorous  pencil  was  only  appreciated  by  the  judicious  few  ; 
and  the  visits  of  Smibert,  Pine,  Wright,  and  others,  had  left  a few  notable 
memorials  of  their  skill  in  likenesses  ; C.  W.  Peale  was  a respedted  name 
in  the  Middle  States,  and  that  of  Bembridge  well  known  at  the  South  ; the 


140 


American  Aitist  Life. 


latter  had  studied  under  Mengs  and  Romney,  and  gave  promise  of  excel- 
lence, but  Allston  did  not  remember  his  works  sufficiently  in  after  life,  “ to 
speak  of  their  merits.”  Yet,  with  so  few  and  scattered  illustrations  of  paint- 
ing, he  arrived  at  a marvellous  degree  of  knowledge  and  practical  ability 
in  the  higher  elements  of  the  art ; thus  indicating  a positive  and  mature 
genius,  before  he  had  actually  embraced  it  as  a profession.  “ In  the  color- 
ing of  figures,”  he  writes,  “ the  pictures  of  Pine  in  the  Columbian  Museum 
in  Boston,  were  my  first  masters.”  One  of  his  first  works,  a portrait  of  him- 
self in  early  youth,  presented  by  him  to  his  excellent  friend,  the  late  Mrs. 
Nathaniel  Amory,  of  Newport,  exhibits  a vigor  and  grace  of  treatment,  a 
finish  of  style  and  transparency  of  tint,  which  bespeak  the  future  master. 
His  own  account  of  his  studies  at  Newport  and  Cambridge  refers  to  a 
practice  of  drawing  from*  prints — figures,  scenery,  and  animals  ; after  this 
imitative  exercise  in  regard  to  form  and  perspective,  instinctively  adopted 
in  boyhood,  he  tells  us  that  the  two  pictures  which  initiated  him  into  the 
mysteries  and  art  of  color  were  an  old  landscape,  either  Italian  or  Spanish, 
that  hung  in  the  house  of  a friend  who  resided  near  the  university  ; and  a 
head  of  Cardinal  Bentivoglio  in  the  college  library,  copied  by  Smibert  from 
Vandyke,  “which,”  he  adds,  “ I obtained  permission  to  copy  one  winter’s 
vacation  ; ” in  color  (alluding  to  his  obligations  to  Pine)  I had  a higher 
master. 

These  inadequate  hints  stimulated  the  intuitive  perception  of  color  in 
which  Allston  so  early  excelled.  One  of  his  favorite  pastimes  when  a 
child  at  the  South  prophesied  the  artist,  and  especially  the  delight  in 
blending  and  harmonizing  effective  tints  ; he  used  to  convert  fern  stalks 
into  men  and  women,  by  arraying  them  in  colored  yarn  and  making  them 
hold  pitchers  of  pomegranate  flowers.  No  sooner  was  his  academic 
career  over,  thus  beguiled  by  the  companionship  of  Malbone,  the  old 
landscape  of  southern  Europe,  and  the  fine  head  after  Vandyke,  into  inci- 
dental studies  akin  to  his  genius,  than  he  went  to  Charleston,  S.  C.,  and, 
among  kindred  and  early  friends,  found  Malbone  and  Charles  Frazer  both 
occupied  there  in  the  same  way ; and  he  set  up  forthwith  what  he  quaintly 
calls  a “picture  manufactory.”  In  a short  time,  with  the  former  friend, 
he  embarked  for  London,  to  enlarge  his  knowledge  by  art-studies  in 
Europe.  “ Up  to  this  time,”  he  remarks,  “ my  favorite  subjects,  with 
occasional  comic  intermissions,  were  banditti,  and  I did  not  get  over  the 
mania  until  I had  been  more  than  a year  in  England.”  He  alludes,  with 
humorous  zest,  in  the  same  letter,  to  his  delight  when  he  succeeded  in 
making  a gashed  throat  look  real.  The  charm  of  such  themes  was  their 
tragic  character,  and  especially  the  accessories  of  dark  woods,  picturesque 
disguises,  and  terrible  solitude  ; we  can  trace  in  such  experiments  the 
effecl  of  that  favorite  landscape  and  impressive  cardinal’s  head,  as  well 
as  the  imaginative  promptings  of  a poetic  and  wild  instinCt.  Arriving  in 
London  in  1801,  Allston  immediately  became  a student  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  in  the  presidency  of  which  institution  our  countryman,  Benja- 
min West,  had  just  succeeded  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  The  integrity  and 


Alls  ton. 


141 

benevolence  of  West  won  the  confidence  of  Allston  ; they  soon  became 
intimate,  and  were  attached  friends  through  life.  The  uniform  kindness 
of  the  venerable  president  to  his  young  and  gifted  compatriot,  was  ever  a 
subjedl  of  grateful  remark  and  remembrance  on  the  part  of  Allston.  The 
latter’s  cultivated  mind,  delightful  conversation,  and  refined  manners, 
would  have  insured  him  a welcome  in  the  artistic  and  literary  circles  of 
London,  independent  of  the  prestige  of  his  genius  as  a painter.  But 
while  enjoying  the  highest  social  privileges  of  the  British  metropolis,  and 
a singular  favorite  with  his  professional  brethren,  he  devoted  his  best 
time  and  powers  to  the  study  of  his  art.  For  three  years  he  sought,  in 
assiduous  practice  and  observation,  for  those  principles  and  that  facility 
which  subsequently  raised  him  to  the  highest  rank  among  modern 
painters.  Among  his  memorable  friends,  at  this  epoch,  were  Dr.  Moore, 
the  author  of  “ Zeluco,”  and  Fuseli  ; but  his  range  of  association  included 
the  best  minds  and  noblest  characters  of  the  time  ; and  his  reminiscences 
of  men,  artists,  and  life  in  London,  were  always  vivid  and  full  of  interest. 
In  spite  of  constant  practice  at  the  Academy,  innumerable  studies  at 
home,  and  many  social  engagements,  such  was  his  zeal  and  industry,  that 
the  very  next  year  after  his  arrival,  he  exhibited  three  pictures  at  Somer- 
set House — a landscape  begun  while  in  college,  a rocky  coast  with 
banditti,  and  a comic  piece.  In  1804  he  visited  Paris,  in  company  with 
another  American  painter,  afterwards  celebrated,  John  Vanderlyn.  The 
Louvre  then  contained  the  chief  treasures  of  art  from  all  parts  of  the 
continent,  and  Allston  enjoyed  a rare  opportunity  to  examine  and  compare 
the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  every  school.  His  partiality  for  the  Venetian  in- 
stantly declared  itself ; there  was  in  his  genius  a natural  affinity  with 
those  masters  of  color,  his  successful  emulation  of  whom  obtained  for 
him,  at  a subsequent  period,  the  name  of  the  “American  Titian.”  In  the 
contemplation  of  this  unrivalled  series  of  pictures,  and  in  study,  a few 
months  were  occupied,  when  he  repaired  to  Italy,  and  passed  four  years, 
chiefly  at  Rome,  in  the  sedulous  cultivation  of  his  art.  Here  he  became 
the  intimate  companion  of  Thorwaldsen  and  Coleridge  ; and  the  latter 
fondly  remembered,  to  the  last,  his  intellectual  obligations  to  Allston. 
The  results  of  this  long  communion  with  the  old  masters,  and  this  famili- 
arity with  nature  in  Italy,  may  be  distinctly  traced  in  his  paintings  and 
writings,  and  were  most  attractively  exhibited  in  his  conversation.  Allston 
returned  to  his  native  country  in  1809,  after  this  fruitful  visit  to  Great 
Britain,  France,  and  southern  Europe.  Having  married  a sister  of  the 
celebrated  Unitarian  divine  of  Boston,  Dr.  Channing,  he  again  took  up 
his  abode  in  London.  Although  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  visit  there, 
Fuseli,  upon  learning  his  purpose  to  devote  himself  to  historical  painting, 
said,  “You  have  come  a great  way  to  starve  ; ” he  finished  and  exhibited, 
on  his  return,  the  earliest  work  of  the  kind,  on  a large  scale,  “ The  Dead 
Man  Revived,”  a scriptural  theme  which  gave  ample  scope  both  to  his 
imaginative  and  executive  powers.  It  may  be  considered  as  at  once  the 
presage  and  the  pledge  of  his  subsequent  reputation,  having  instantly 


142 


American  Artist  Life. 


obtained  the  prize  from  the  British  Institution,  of  two  hundred  guineas, 
and  being  soon  after  purchased  by  the  Pennsylvania  academy  of  fine  arts. 
His  next  important  work  was  “ St.  Peter  liberated  by  the  Angel,”  ordered 
by  Sir  George  Beaumont,  and  now  in  the  church  of  Ashby  de  la  Zouch  ; 
this  was  followed  by  “ Uriel  in  the  Sun,”  now  belonging  to  the  Duke  of 
Sutherland,  and  for  which  the  British  Institution  awarded  him  a gratuity 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  guineas  ; and  “Jacob’s  Dream,”  now  in  the  col- 
lection of  Lord  Egremont  at  Petworth.  The  intervals  between  these 
achievements  were  occupied  with  smaller,  but  not  less  characteristic  paint- 
ings, all  of  which  found  eager  and  liberal  purchasers.  Those  cognizant 
of  the  conditions  for  the  development  of  art,  both*  as  an  individual  pursuit 
and  a national  interest,  and  especially  those  who  were  familiar  with  Alls- 
ton’s  character  and  organization,  find  cause  for  deep  regret  that  he  did  not 
remain  abroad,  and  follow  the  impulse  and  the  success  which,  at  this  time, 
crowned  his  life.  The  intelligent  sympathy,  the  external  resources,  the 
public  encouragement,  and  the  fellowship  of  great  artists,  all  so  important 
as  stimulants  to  effort  and  guides  to  excellence,  were  there  available  ; 
whereas,  on  this  side  of  the  water,  comparative  isolation  and  public  in- 
difference awaited  our  great  painter.  The  contrast  must  have  been  unpro- 
pitious  and  discouraging ; and,  when  added  to  the  want  of  health  and 
habits  of  seclusion,  undoubtedly  lessened  the  zeal  and  limited  the  works 
of  the  only  man  in  the  country  who  gave  undisputed  evidence  of  genius 
in  the  highest  sphere  of  painting,  united  to  a discipline  and  finished  style, 
which  announced  another  “ old  master,”  as  native  of  the  western  hemi- 
sphere. Unremitted  toil,  acquiescence  in  the  English  custom  of  late 
dinner,  and  thus  many  consecutive  hours  of  work  and  fasting,  together 
with  a period  of  deep  affliction  on  account  of  the  death  of  his  wife, 
combined  to  undermine  the  delicate  constitution  of  this  great  artist, 
at  this  period  of  his  most  genial  activity  and  eminent  success.  He  re- 
turned home  in  1 8 1 8 in  feeble  health,  and  with  but  one  finished  picture 
— “ Elijah  in  the  Wilderness,”  subsequently  purchased  and  taken  to  Eng- 
land by  the  Hon.  Mr.  Labouchere.  During  the  succeeding  twelve  years 
Allston  resided  in  Boston  ; but  his  name  and  works  were  cherished  in  his 
ancestral  land,  and,  soon  after  his  return,  he  received  the  compliment  of  an 
election  to  the  Royal  Academy.  Among  the  productions  of  this  period, 
interrupted  as  were  his  labors  by  inadequate  health,  the  most  celebrated 
are  “ The  Prophet  Jeremiah,”  originally  belonging  to  Miss  Gibbs,  of  New- 
port, and  now  at  Yale  College.  “ Facing  Washington,  on  the  opposite  wall,” 
says  a recent  critic,  “is  Allston’s  ‘Jeremiah,’  recently  purchased  at  a cost 
of  $7,000,  and  presented  to  the  Art  Hall  by  Professor  Morse.  With  a repu- 
tation as  the  greatest  work  of  Allston,  endorsed  by  so  competent  a judge  as 
Professor  Morse,  it  shows  a sad  want  of  artistic  taste  to  confess  that  a first 
glance  at  the  lamenting  prophet  suggests  the  idea  of  an  astonished  black- 
smith, surprised  by  the  explosion  of  a petard  in  his  smithy.  But  an  examina- 
tion, even  by  an  uneducated  eye,  discloses  the  great  power  of  the  artist  in 
expressing  the  intense  absorption  of  the  prophet’s  intellectual  faculties  in 


Allston. 


143 


the  wonderful  revelations  presented  to  him.  The  other  beauties  of  the 
painting  disclose  themselves  the  more  closely  it  is  studied,  until  it  vindi- 
cates its  claim  to  a high  position  as  a work  of  art.”  “ Saul  and  the  Witch 
of  Endor,”  was  purchased  by  the  late  Col.  T.  H.  Perkins,  of  Boston  ; and 
“ Miriam  Singing  the  Song  of  Triumph,”  is  owned  by  Hon.  David  Sears, 
of  the  same  city.  Of  minor  works,  the  most  memorable  are  “ Dante’s 
Beatrice,”  and  “ The  Valentine,”  female  ideal  portraits  which  exquisitely 
illustrate  Allston’s  extraordinary  gifts  as  a colorist  and  in  poetic  expres- 
sion ; the  former  was  the  property  of  the  late  Hon.  S.  A.  Eliot,  and  the 
latter  belongs  to  George  Ticknor,  Esq.,  of  Boston.  A Mother  and  Child 
he  would  not  have  it  called.  “ Madonna”  belongs  to  Mr.  McMurtrie,  of 
Philadelphia.  In  1830  Allston  married,  for  his  second  wife,  a daughter  of 
the  late  Chief-Justice  Dana,  of  Cambridge,  Mass.  He  there  fixed  his 
studio,  and  thenceforth  led  a life  of  great  seclusion,  enjoying  the  society 
of  a few  intimate  friends  and  kindred,  always  receiving  with  cordiality 
visitors  of  his  own  profession  and  enlightened  lovers  of  art,  but  avoiding, 
as  far  as  practicable,  the  hospitalities  of  the  neighboring  city,  and  the 
encroachments  of  general  intercourse.  In  the  spirit  of  a true  artist, 
modified  by  the  habits  of  an  invalid,  he  secluded  himself  from  the  world, 
to  give  his  better  moments  to  painting,  and  his  leisure  to  contemplation. 
At  this  time  many  of  his  best,  though  less  extensive  pictures  were  exe- 
cuted, such  as  “ Spalatro’s  Vision  of  the  Bloody  Hand,”  painted  for  Mr. 
Ball,  of  South  Carolina,  and  the  beautiful  “ Rosalie,”  which  belonged  to 
the  late  Hon.  Nathan  Appleton,  of  Boston. 

The  former  picture  illustrates  one  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe’s  memorable  scenes 
of  superstitious  terror.  Schedoni,  a monk,  engages  a fisherman — Spala- 
tro,  a man  of  many  crimes — to  murder  Ellena,  the  heroine  of  “The  Ita- 
lian.” His  courage  fails  him  as  the  time  draws  near,  and  remorse  for  his 
previous  villanies  so  overwhelms  him  that  he  refuses,  at  the  last  moment, 
to  do  the  work  of  assassination — which  the  monk,  after  taunting  him  with 
cowardice,  undertakes  himself.  Suspicious  dread  seizes  on  Spalatro  as 
they  hasten  through  the  lonely  and  dim  corridors.  He  suddenly  seizes 
Schedoni’s  arm,  and  starts  back  in  terror,  fancying  he  sees  a bloody  hand 
beckoning  him  on  ! The  monk  in  vain  endeavors  to  reassure  him,  say- 
ing “This  is  very  frenzy  ; arouse  yourself,  and  be  a man.”  “Would  it 
were  ! ” replies  Spalatro,  “ I see  it  now  : it  is  there  again  ! ” This  is  the 
moment  seized  by  the  painter ; the  tall,  bald,  stern  monk — the  dreary  cor- 
ridor— the  dilated  eyes  and  horror-struck  attitude  of  the  remorseful  and 
frightened  wretch,  are  delineated  with  a dramatic  truth,  power,  and  indivi- 
duality, and  a mellow,  chiaro-scuro  effeCt  of  light,  shade,  and  color,  which 
no  artist  can  fail  to  admire,  and  no  observer  of  sensibility  witness,  without 
a profound  impression.  The  original  owner  of  this  picture  was  obliged 
by  the  exigencies  incident  to  the  war  for  the  Union,  to  offer  it  for  sale, 
and  it  is  now  in  the  collection  of  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  of  New  York. 

Twenty  plates,  the  largest  about  twenty  inches  by  thirty,  of  outlines  by 


1 44 


American  Artist  Life . 


Allston,  were  published  a few  years  ago  ; they  were  selected  from  com- 
positions hastily  sketched  in  chalk,  and  outlines  in  amber.  Their  merits 
have  been  thus  critically  stated  : “ They  display  a profound  knowledge  of 
the  human  form,  with  the  power  of  artistically  idealizing  it ; they  also  ex- 
press refined  ideas  of  beauty,  grace,  sublimity,  and  its  youngest  brother  — 
romance  ; above  all,  they  exhibit  that  purity  as  well  as  loftiness  of  soul 
which  belong  to  the  highest  department  of  art.”  There  is  a picture  of 
Allston  in  the  possession  of  Col.  Drayton’s  family ; and  a fine  portrait  of 
Benjamin  West  by  him  in  the  Boston  Athenaeum. 

Congress,  in  1836,  invited  him  to  fill  one  of  the  panels  in  the  Rotunda 
of  the  Capitol  with  an  historical  picture  ; but  his  mind  was  now  intent 
upon  an  extensive  project,  conceived  and  partially  commenced  in  London, 
and  he  declined  the  national  commission.  The  retired  life,  extensive 
fame,  and  recognized  genius  of  Allston,  united  to  raise  the  public  anticipa- 
tions in  regard  to  this  promised  work  to  the  highest  degree.  The  subject 
was  u Belshazzar’s  Feast ; ” and  those  acquainted  with  the  painter’s  taste 
and  skill,  his  power  of  high  and  broad  conception,  his  mastery  of  form 
and  color,  and  his  sense  of  moral  grandeur  and  historical  effects,  at  once 
beheld  in  the  subject  the  most  desirable  scope  and  inspiration.  A few  of 
his  friends  had  caught  glimpses  of  a figure  or  an  effeCt  of  light  on  the 
carefully-hidden  canvas  ; some  had  stood  as  models,  and  others  had  heard 
an  eloquent  exposition  of  the  design  from  the  lips  of  the  artist ; the 
result  was  to  awaken  unreasonable  expectation,  and  for  years  Allston’s 
“great  picture”  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  triumphs  of  American 
art,  to  which  the  future  was  destined  to  give  birth.  Meantime,  although 
some  progress  had  been  made  during  the  painter’s  twelve  years’  residence 
in  Boston,  the  want  of  a proper  studio  caused  the  work  to  be  laid  aside ; 
and,  when  resumed  at  Cambridge,  various  circumstances  were  unpropi- 
tious — among  them,  pecuniary  embarrassment  (which  had  led  at  one  time 
to  the  confiscation  of  the  unfinished  work) — the  necessity  of  more  lucra- 
tive employment,  discouragement  from  the  want  of  adequate  models,  fre- 
quent indisposition,  change  of  plan,  and  dissatisfaction  with  what  had 
been  already  achieved.  It  was  perhaps  too  extensive  an  enterprise  for 
the  means  and  the  strength  of  the  artist,  situated  as  he  then  was,  and  was 
therefore  from  time  to  time  postponed ; doubtless  the  impatient  and 
extravagant  views  of  the  public,  as  well  as  the  painful  associations  con- 
nected with  the  work  from  the  cause  already  mentioned,  tended  still  more 
to  retard  the  prosecution  of  his  elaborate  task.  In  its  unfinished  state, 
however,  as  left  at  his  death,  it  is  no  inadequate  memorial,  to  a discrimi- 
nating eye,  of  the  genius  of  the  great  painter ; a sublime  significance  and 
a grandeur  of  design,  as  well  as  a splendid  arrangement  of  light  and 
color,  foretell  a wonderful  picture  ; and  the  noble  piclorial  fragment  is  the 
delight  of  artists.  It  is  now  the  property  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  His 
original  view  of  the  subjecl  and  his  own  design  may  be  gathered  from  a 
letter  he  addressed  to  his  friend,  Washington  Irving,  on  hearing  of  that 


Allston. 


145 


gentleman’s  sudden  resolution  to  embark  for  America.  It  is  dated  Lon- 

O 

don,  May  9,  1817,  and  speaking  of  the  plans  upon  which  he  had  hoped  to 
consult  him,  he  says  : “ One  of  these  subjects  (and  the  most  important)  is 
the  large  picture — the  prophet  Daniel  interpreting  the  handwriting  on  the 
wall  before  Belshazzar.  I have  made  a highly  finished  sketch  of  it.  I 
think  the  composition  the  best  I ever  made.  It  contains  a multitude  of 
figures,  and  (if  I may  be  allowed  to  say  so)  they  are  without  confusion. 
Don’t  you  think  it  a fine  subjedt  ? I know  not  any  that  so  happily  unites 
the  magnificent  and  the  awful.  A mighty  sovereign,  surrounded  by  his 
whole  court,  intoxicated  with  his  own  state,  in  the  midst  of  his  revelry, 
palsied  in  a moment,  under  the  spell  of  a preternatural  hand  suddenly 
tracing  his  doom  on  the  wall  before  him  ; his  powerless  limbs,  like  a 
wounded  spider’s,  shrunk  up  to  his  body,  while  his  heart,  compressed  to 
a point,  is  only  kept  from  vanishing  by  the  terrific  suspense  that  animates 
it  during  the  interpretation  of  his  mysterious  sentence.  His  less  guilty 
but  scarcely  less  agitated  queen,  the  panic-struck  courtiers  and  concu- 
bines, the  splendid  and  deserted  banquet  table,  the  half  arrogant,  half 
astounded  magicians,  the  holy  vessels  of  the  temple  (shining  as  it  were  in 
triumph  through  the  gloom),  and  the  calm,  solemn  contrast  of  the  prophet, 
standing,  like  an  animated  pillar,  in  the  midst,  breathing  forth  the  oracu- 
lar destruction  of  the  empire  ! ” Allston  was,  at  length — nearly  forty 
years  after  this  was  written — advancing  in  this  long-neglebted  work,  and, 
though  physically  no  longer  vigorous,  as  strong  in  intellectual  force  and 
elevated  sentiment  as  in  his  youth  and  prime, — when  his  masterly  hand 
was  for  ever  stilled,  and  his  eloquent  speech  for  ever  silenced.  About  mid- 
night, on  a Saturday,  after  a week  of  steady  labor  on  “ Belshazzar’s  Feast,” 
having  passed  the  evening  with  his  family  in  thoughtful  but  pleasant  dis- 
course, he  suddenly  but  gently  expired,  from  a renewed  attack  of  disease 
of  the  heart,  to  which  he  had  been  for  some  time  liable.  He  was  in  the 
64th  year  of  his  age.  Flis  appearance  was  unchanged  by  death;  his 
burial  took  place  by  torch-light ; and  thus  closed  in  tranquil  beauty  and 
wise  self-possession  of  his  transcendent  faculties,  the  artist-life  and  the 
earthly  being  of  Washington  Allston. 

The  literary  claims  of  Allston  have  been  thrown  into  the  shade  by  the 
consideration  of  his  artistic  fame.  He  exhibited,  however,  a versatility, 
invention,  and  expressive  power  in  language,  quite  as  individual  as  that  he 
so  nobly  manifested  in  lines  and  hues.  With  remarkable  fluency,  vivid 
imagination,  and  intense  love  of  beauty  and  truth,  he  had  also  a peculiar 
sense  of  the  awful  and  sublime,  and  a decided  analytical  perception. 
Accordingly,  in  the  few  of  his  writings  which  have  been  published,  these 
essential  gifts  of  authorship  proclaim  him  capable  of  works  of  the  pen  not 
less  effective  than  those  he  achieved  with  the  pencil.  But  it  was  only  to 
beguile  a leisure  hour,  to  gratify  the  demands  of  friendship,  or  give  play  to 
an  importunate  fancy,  that  he  wrote.  In  1813,  during  his  second  residence 
in  London,  he  published  “ The  Sylphs  of  the  Season,”  a poem  in  which 
are  pictured,  with  minute  felicity,  the  natural  phases  of  spring,  summer, 

10 


146 


American  Artist  Life. 

autumn,  and  winter,  with  especial  reference  to  their  respective  influence  on 
the  mind.  The  poem  evinces  the  most  loving  observation  of  nature,  and 
introspective  habits  of  mind.  Several  minor  poems  and  occasional  verses 
are  distinguished  for  originality  of  idea  and  beauty  of  execution.  “ The 
Two  Painters  ” is  an  excellent  metrical  satire,  and  the  “ Paint- Kins:”  weird 
and  imaginative  enough  to  have  proceeded  from  the  most  fanciful  of  Ger- 
man bards.  In  1821,  when  his  brother-in-law,  Richard  H.  Dana,  was 
engaged  in  the  publication  of  a serial  work  of  eminent  interest,  “ The  Idle 
Man,”  Allston  wrote  for  it  an  Italian  romance.  The  periodical  was  sus- 
pended, and  the  tale  not  published  until  twenty  years  later.  In  “Monaldi,” 
his  experience  in  Rome  is  vividly  and  gracefully  embodied,  as  accessory  to 
a tragic  story  of  passion,  interspersed  with  the  most  wise  and  beautiful 
comments  on  art  and  nature.  The  style,  conception,  and  philosophic  in- 
sight exhibited  in  this  tale,  its  power  as  an  exposition  of  the  passions — 
especially  of  love  and  jealousy,  and  its  grace  as  a narrative,  indicate  great 
constructive  talent  and  literary  aptitude.  He  prepared  a course  of  lectures 
on  Art,  which  were  never  delivered,  but  published  after  his  death  ; they 
prove  the  ardor  of  his  devotion  to  painting,  and  the  deep  intelligence  of  one 
who  had  studied  for  himself  the  philosophy,  history,  and  science  of  his 
profession.  Indeed,  the  writings  and  paintings  of  Allston  exquisitely 
illustrate  each  other.  By  their  mutual  contemplation  we  perceive  the 
individuality  of  the  artist,  and  the  pure  spirit  of  the  man  ; and  realize 
that  unity  whereby  the  genius  harmonizes  all  expression  to  a common  and 
universal  principle,  making  form  and  color,  words  and  rhyme,  express 
vividly  and  truly  what  exists  in  the  artist’s  nature.  “ Rosalie,”  for 
instance,  the  poem,  is  the  reflection  of  “Rosalie,”  the  picture;  and  his 
letter  describing  a view  among  the  Alps  breathes  the  identical  feeling 
that  pervades  his  landscape  depicting  the  scene. 

Such  pictures  of  this  great  master  as  could  be  obtained  on  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic,  were  collected  for  exhibition  at  Boston  in  the  spring  of  1839; 
and,  although  his  largest  and  most  celebrated  works  were  not  included,  the 
variety,  originality,  artistic  finish,  and  beauty — the  mature  skill  and  refined 
genius  manifest  in  this  gallery,  made  a deep  and  delightful  impression 
upon  all  spectators  versed  in  art,  or  endowed  with  a sense  of  the  beautiful. 
The  paintings  numbered  forty-two  ; and  they  represented  every  department 
of  pictorial  art,  and  every  excellence  for  which  her  most  gifted  votaries  have 
been  celebrated.  The  exhibition,  limited  as  it  unavoidably  was,  proved  an 
epoch  in  the  history  of  Art  in  the  United  States  ; it  illustrated  the  genius 
of  a native  painter  by  the  most  perfect  productions  ; nothing  crude,  un- 
skilful, insignificant,  disturbed  the  harmony  of  the  scene  ; it  was  difficult 
for  the  visitor,  acquainted  with  foreign  galleries,  to  believe  that  he  stood 
in  the  midst  of  American  works  on  American  soil,  for,  on  all  sides,  he 
beheld  the  evidences  of  a master  hand  and  an  individual  mind,  worthy  to 
take  their  permanent  place  by  the  side  of  works  long  since  stamped  with 
universal  love  and  praise.  The  first  impression  conveyed  by  the  Allston 
Gallery  was  that  of  the  versatile  range  of  the  artist’s  conceptions  ; the  next, 


Alls  ton. 


147 


that  of  the  individuality  of  his  genius.  We  turned  from  the  impressive 
figure  of  the  “Reviving  Dead,”  slowly  renewing  vitality  at  the  touch  of  the 
prophet’s  bones,  to  the  pensive  beauty  of  “ Beatrice,”  ineffably  lovely  and 
sad;  the  countenance  of  “ Rosalie  ” seemed  kindled  like  that  of  the  maiden 
described  by  Wordsworth,  as  if  music  “born  of  murmuring  sound  had 
passed  into  her  face  ; ” aerial  in  her  movement,  and  embodied  grace  in  her 
attitude  and  drapery,  “ Miriam  ” sounded  the  timbrel ; the  very  foot  of  the 
scribe  appeared  to  listen  to  Jeremiah — stern,  venerable,  and  prophetic  ; 
keenly  glittered  the  Alpine  summits,  and  sweetly  fell  the  moonbeams,  and 
darkly  rose  the  forests  in  the  landscapes,  as  if  glimpses  of  real  nature,  in- 
stead of  their  reflex,  made  alive  the  canvas  ; full  of  character  and  dignity 
were  the  portraits  ; magnificent  old  Jews’  heads,  and  exquisite  brows  of 
maidens,  and  imposing  forms  of  prophets,  and  marvellous  light  and  shade, 
deep,  lucent,  mellow  hues — all  flitted  before  the  senses  of  the  visitor,  while 
each  picture  formed  an  inexhaustible  object  of  contemplation,  and  became 
a permanently  beautiful  and  impressive  reminiscence. 

A remarkable  trait  in  the  genius  of  Allston  was  his  sensibility  to  the  awful, 
the  mysterious,  and  the  grand.  As  a boy  he  tells  us,  “ I delighted  in  being 
terrified  by  the  tales  of  witches  and  hags,  which  the  negroes  used  to  tell 
me.”  This  characteristic,  in  its  more  elevated  affinities,  drew  him  into  the 
sphere  of  the  spiritual,  and  was  exhibited  in  a profound  religious  sensibility 
and  faith,  and  an  exaltation  of  mind  and  motive  which  excited  the  deepest 
veneration  : in  its  more  casual  tendency,  it  made  him  alive  to  the  super- 
natural, fond  of  speculating  on  the  mysteries  of  life  and  the  soul,  and  an 
eager  recipient  of  tales  of  superstition  and  wonder.  In  this  we  recognize 
an  element  of  the  sublime.  Allston  indicated  its  prevalence  in  his  fond- 
ness for  such  themes  of  art  as  “A  Forest  with  Banditti,”  “ The  Witch  of 
Endor,”  “ The  Dead  Man  Restored.”  “ Spalatro’s  Vision  of  the  Bloody 
Hand,”  and  “Belshazzar’s  Feast.”  He  has  worked  out  a like  vein  in  the 
description  of  the  mysterious  picture  in  “ Monaldi  ; ” and  he  always 
excelled  as  a relator  of  ghost-stories.  Incidental  to  this  idiosyncrasy,  was 
his  deep  sense  of  the  principle  of  conscience  in  humanity,  shadowed  forth 
in  more  than  one  of  his  artistic  conceptions.  FI  is  own  moral  sensibility 
was  extreme.  Indeed,  want  of  self-satisfaftion  was  a primary  cause  of  the 
frequent  interruption  of  his  labors  ; his  ideal  in  art  and  in  life  was  exalted, 
and  he  would  have  painted  and  written  more  had  he  been  less  self-exadt- 
ing.  No  painter  ever  cherished  a more  elevated  view  of  the  ministry  and 
legitimate  aims  of  his  profession.  On  one  occasion,  when  crippled  in 
resources  in  London,  having  sold  a picture  for  a considerable  sum,  as  he 
sat  alone  at  evening,  the  idea  occurred  to  him  that  the  subjedt,  to  a per- 
verted taste  and  prurient  imagination,  might  have  an  immoral  effect ; he 
instantly  returned  the  money,  and  regained  and  destroyed  the  painting. 
He  used  to  relate,  with  much  solemnity,  that,  on  one  occasion  of  keen 
deprivation  and  discouragement,  his  prayer  was  answered  as  soon  as 
uttered.  But,  perhaps,  his  convictions  and  sympathies  in  regard  to  Art 
were  best  exhibited,  indiredtly,  in  his  judgment  of  pictures,  and  in  his 


148 


American  Artist  Life. 


relations  to  artists.  He  was  a magnanimous  critic,  and  a disinterested 
friend.  His  taste  was  comprehensive  and  catholic,  recognizing  every  phase 
of  merit  and  modification  of  genius,  however  diverse  from  his  own.  His 
letters  and  conversation  evinced  a remarkably  appreciative  mind.  He 
called  himself  “ a wide  liker”  ; and  proved  himself  such  by  the  dis- 
crimination and  geniality  with  which  he  pointed  out  and  advocated  the 
slightest  token  of  excellence  in  pictures,  books,  and  character.  Perhaps 
it  was  this  enlightened  sympathy  that  drew  so  constantly  to  him  artists 
and  art-students  of  every  age  and  degree  of  culture  ; for  the  humblest  he 
had  a cheering  word,  or  an  invaluable  counsel ; and  the  number  who  date 
their  improvement  or  aspirations  from  an  interview  with  Allston,  vindicate 
his  claim  to  be  regarded  literally,  as  they  affectionately  called  him,  “the 
Master,”  in  all  the  old  genuine  and  personal  significance  of  that  title  : 
many  a youthful  votary  of  sculpture  and  painting  can  echo  the  words  of 
Horatio  Greenough,  in  speaking  of  Allston,  “ He  was  a father  to  me  in 
what  concerned  my  progress  of  every  kind.” 

Besides  the  portrait  by  himself,  in  youth,  to  which  we  have  alluded, 
there  is  an  excellent  bust  of  Allston,  by  Clevenger,  from  life  ; another, 
taken  after  death,  by  Brackett ; a head,  modelled  by  Paul  Duggan  for  a 
medal  struck  by  the  American  Art-Union,  in  1847,  and  a portrait  by  Leslie, 
presented  to  the  N.  Y.  Academy  of  Design,  by  Morse. 

The  temperament  of  Allston  was  preeminently  that  of  a man  of  genius  ; 
it  was  highly  nervous  ; a fine  fibrous  texture  made  his  frame  elastic  and 
susceptible,  quick  to  receive  and  transmit  impressions.  To  every  aspedl 
of  the  beautiful  he  was  keenly  alive  ; no  effedl  of  nature,  expression,  and 
especially  of  color,  escaped  him.  In  the  latter  his  endowment  was  most 
remarkable.  Leslie  compares  the  harmony  of  tint  in  “ Uriel  seated  in  the 
Sun  ” to  the  best  pictures  of  Paul  Veronese  ; we  have  seen  that  in  Rome 
he  was  called  the  American  Titian  ; and  there  is  a mellow,  rich,  vital,  and 
sometimes  ineffable  hue  in  his  pictures  unrivalled  since  the  days  of  the 
old  masters.  But  it  was  not  mere  negative  or  receptive  traits  which  dis- 
tinguished Allston  ; he  was  earnest,  often  to  religious  concentration,  in 
his  convictions  and  his  tone  of  feeling. 

A man  thus  gifted  and  sensitive,  thus  noble  and  fluent,  naturally  attracted 
the  most  select  companionship,  and  won  the  most  sympathetic  admiration. 
Accordingly  we  find  that,  notwithstanding  his  habits  of  intense  application 
in  Europe,  and  of  invalid  retirement  in  America,  he  was  sought  for,  loved, 
and  revered  by  the  choicest  men  and  women  of  his  time.  In  youth,  the 
chosen  friend  of  the  gentle  and  graceful  painter,  Malbone  ; on  first  going 
abroad,  the  favorite  companion  of  the  best  London  artists  and  the  most 
intelligent  English  noblemen  ; in  Rome,  exploring  the  Campagna  with 
Irving,  and  talking  of  the  mysterious  and  the  beautiful  with  Coleridge  ; 
at  his  modest  abode  in  Cambridge,  discussing  subjects  for  a picture  with 
Lord  Morpeth,  or  a principle  of  art  with  Mrs.  Jameson,  or  of  beauty  with 
his  poet  brother-in-law,  Dana;  encouraging  the  young,  sympathizing  with 
the  old.  delighting  in  his  pencil  and  palette  to  the  last,  full  of  reverence 


Alls  ton. 


149 


for  truth,  of  faith  in  God, — eloquent,  profound,  earnest,  yet  meek,  gentle, 
and  benign,  living  above  the  world,  yet  alive  to  all  human  interest  and 
spiritual  meaning,  he  realized  the  ideal  of  a Christian  artist. 

“ How  many  there  are,”  wrote  Vanderlyn,  on  hearing  of  his  death,  “who 
have  not  undergone  half  the  fatigue,  physical  or  mental,  endured  by  him, 
not  to  mention  the  far  greater  amount  of  time  and  money  expended  in  the 
acquisition  of  his  profession  than  in  most  other  pursuits — yet  have  secured 
to  themselves  the  means  to  reach  the  decline  of  life,  in  a condition  to 
assure  ease  and  comfort.” 

Noble  specimens  of  Art  as  are  many  of  Allston’s  pictures,  to  one  who 
regards  the  tendencies  and  effect  of  his  entire  character,  they  serve  rather 
as  suggestions  than  a complete  representation  of  the  man.  Yet,  had  we  no 
other  evidence  of  the  spirit  he  was  of,  when  rightly  contemplated,  all  might 
be  inferred.  And  perhaps  no  better  proof  of  their  superiority  could  be 
adduced  than  this  very  faCt,  that  they  not  only  bear,  but  invite  study,  grow 
upon  the  imagination,  and  haunt  the  memory.  There  is  sometimes  a kind 
of  beaming  atmosphere  radiated  from  the  human  countenance  when  fervent 
emotions  warm  its  features.  It  is  a kind  of  expressiveness  which  makes 
the  halos  around  the  saints  and  virgins  of  the  old  masters  scarcely  appear 
unnatural — the  soulful  intelligence  to  which  the  poet  refers  when  he  de- 
scribes spiritual  elements  as  informing  the  body  “till  all  be  made  immor- 
tal” ; the  loveliness  created  by  sentiment,  that  Wordsworth  recognizes  in 
the  rustic  heroine  of  whom  he  says,  “ beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound 
shall  pass  into  her  face.”  In  our  view,  this  evanescent  charm  is  the  richest 
humanity  can  wear.  An  ordinary  artist  can  imitate  form,  and  give  us  the 
brow,  eye  and  lip,  which  are  symmetrical,  but  unvarying.  It  requires  more 
profound  sympathy  with  the  mysteries  of  being,  to  appreciate  the  transitory 
and  significant  indications  of  the  beautiful  in  expression — that  which  is  the 
immediate  offspring  of  moral  and  intellectual  life.  Men  of  reflection  and 
sensibility  are  won  by  this  alone,  because  it  allies  itself  with  permanent 
associations,  is  a revelation  of  the  soul  itself ; and  if  the  hopeful  speculations 
of  Swedenborg  in  regard  to  a future  world  have  any  basis  in  truth,  by  it 
may  we  know,  even  there,  the  loved  and  lost.  In  seizing  this  magnetic 
principle,  this  divine  glow,  and,  as  it  were,  atmosphere  of  the  countenance, 
Allston  was  remarkably  successful.  His  Beatrice,  Rosalie,  and  Spanish 
girl,  seem  kindled  into  beauty  by  the  simple  genuineness  of  their  feelings. 
Wordsworth  said  of  his  portrait  of  Coleridge,  “ It  is  the  only  likeness  that 
ever  gave  me  any  pleasure.”  It  has  lately  been  secured  for  the  National 
Portrait  Gallery  of  England.  An  engraving  was  executed  from  this  pic- 
ture by  Mr.  Samuel  Cousins  a few  years  ago.  The  portrait  was  painted  at 
Bristol,  in  1814,  for  Mr.  Joshua  Wade,  when  Coleridge  was  in  the  forty- 
second  year  of  his  age.  The  artist’s  own  testimony,  given  in  a letter  to  Prof. 
Henry  Reed,  of  Philadelphia,  is  deserving  of  consideration.  He  says  : “ So 
lar  as  I can  judge  of  my  own  production,  the  likeness  is  a true  one,  but  it  is 
Coleridge  in  repose  ; and,  though  not  unstirred  by  the  perpetual  ground- 
swell  of  his  ever-working  intellect,  and  shadowing  forth  something  of  the 


American  Artist  Life. 


150 

deep  philosopher,  it  is  not  Coleridge  in  his  highest  mood,  the  poetic  state. 
When  in  that  state,  no  face  I ever  saw  was  like  to  his  ; it  seemed  almost 
spirit  made  visible,  without  a shadow  of  the  visible  upon  it.  Could  I have 
then  fixed  it  on  canvas  ! But  it  was  beyond  the  reach  of  my  art.” 

Certain  objects  and  effects  of  Allston’s  pictures — as  seen  when  they  were 
partially  collected  for  exhibition  several  years  since — have  never  passed 
from  our  minds.  The  transparent  atmosphere  of  the  Swiss  landscape,  so 
true  to  the  peculiarities  of  Alpine  scenery  ; the  moonlight  reflected  on  the 
water  beneath  a bridge  ; the  love-warm  tints  that  play  around  Lorenzo  and 
Jessica  ; the  inimitable  foot  of  the  scribe  in  Jeremiah  ; the  keen  gray  eyes 
and  speaking  beards  of  the  Israelites,  and  the  eloquent  figure  of  Miriam, 
are  images  that  linger  brightly  to  the  inward  vision,  and  thus  prove  them- 
selves a portion  of  the  realities  of  Art. 

In  the  moral  economy  of  life,  sensibility  to  the  beautiful  must  have  a 
great  purpose.  If  the  Platonic  doctrine  of  pre-existence  be  true,  perhaps 
ideality  is  the  surviving  element  of  our  primal  life.  Some  individuals  seem 
born  to  minister  to  this  influence,  which,  under  the  name  of  beauty,  senti- 
ment, or  poetry,  is  the  source  of  what  is  most  exalting  in  our  inmost  ex- 
perience, and  redeeming  in  our  outward  life.  Does  not  the  benign  Provi- 
dence watch  over  their  priests  of  nature  ? They  are  not  necessarily  re- 
nowned. Their  agency  may  be  wholly  social  and  private,  yet  none  the  less 
efficient.  We  confess  that,  to  us,  few  arguments  for  the  benevolent  and 
infinite  design  of  existence  are  more  impressive  than  the  fadt  that  such 
beings  actually  live,  and  wholly  unfitted  as  they  are  to  excel  in,  or  even  con- 
form to  the  Practical,  bear  evidence,  not  to  be  disputed,  of  the  sandtity,  the 
tranquil  progress,  and  the  serene  faith  that  dwell  in  the  Ideal.  Allston  was 
such  a man.  By  profession  he  was  a painter,  and  his  works  overflow  with 
genius  ; still  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  whether  his  pen,  his  pencil,  or  his 
tongue  chiefly  made  known  that  he  was  a prophet  of  the  true  and  beautiful. 
He  believed  not  in  any  exclusive  development.  It  was  the  spirit  of  a man, 
and  not  his  dexterity  or  success,  by  which  he  tested  character.  In  paint- 
ing, reading,  or  writing,  his  mornings  were  occupied,  and  at  night  he  was 
at  the  service  of  his  friends.  Beneath  his  humble  roof,  in  his  latter  years, 
there  was  often  a flow  of  wit,  a community  of  mind,  and  a generous  exercise 
of  sympathy  which  kings  might  envy.  To  the  eye  of  the  multitude  his  life 
glided  away  in  secluded  contentment,  yet  a prevailing  idea  was  the  star  of 
his  being — the  idea  of  beauty.  For  the  high,  the  lovely,  the  perfect,  he 
strove  all  his  days.  He  sought  them  in  the  scenes  of  nature,  in  the  master- 
pieces of  literature  and  art,  in  habits  of  life,  in  social  relations,  and  in  love. 
Without  pretence,  without  elation,  in  all  meekness,  his  youthful  enthusiasm 
chastened  by  suffering,  he  lived  above  the  world.  Gentleness  he  deemed 
true  wisdom  ; renunciation  of  all  the  trappings  of  life,  a duty.  He  was  calm, 
patient,  occasionally  sad,  but  for  the  most  part,  happy  in  the  free  exercise 
and  guardianship  of  his  varied  powers.  The  inequality  of  Allston’s  efforts, 
and  his  frequent  concession  from  labor,  have  been  the  subjedt  of  no  little 
reproach.  The  habits  of  no  man,  and  especially  a man  of  genius,  can  be 


Allston. 


151 

rightly  judged  when  viewed  objectively.  To  ascertain  the  strata  of  a geo- 
logical formation,  and  explain  the  workings  of  a mind,  are  two  very  different 
processes.  Observation  alone  is  required  for  the  former,  but  sympathy  is 
absolutely  needed  for  the  latter.  It  is  astonishing  that  with  the  new  light 
modern  science  has  thrown  upon  physiology,  it  is  so  seldom  taken  into  view 
when  mental  phenomena  are  discussed.  There  is  no  faCt  better  established 
than  that  the  integrity  of  the  nervous  system  is  necessary  to  the  felicitous 
exercise  of  mind.  Yet  biographers  and  critics  seem  blind  to  its  influence. 
This  delicate  medium  of  intellectual  activity  is  refined  and  sensitive  in  all 
rarely  endowed  beings,  for  vivid  impressions  are  the  source  of  their  power, 
and  to  these  a susceptible  organization  is  essential.  When  our  illustrious 
painter  went  to  London,  he  threw  himself  ardently  into  the  pursuit  of  his 
art.  In  order  to  work  undisturbed,  he  adopted  a common  practice  of  the 
country,  and  took  no  refreshment  between  early  morning  and  evening. 
The  long  intervals  of  abstinence,  to  which  he  was  previously  unaccustomed, 
combined  with  intense  application  and  great  mental  excitement,  produced 
a chronic  derangement  of  the  digestive  organs,  and  when  he  retired  to  Cliff- 
ton  in  pursuit  of  health,  his  medical  adviser  prophesied  that  he  would  never 
again  experience  the  blessing.  Immediately  subsequent,  a domestic  be- 
leavement  still  farther  reduced  his  vital  energy,  and  from  this  period  he 
could  only  exercise  his  profession  when  temporary  vigor  nerved  his  frame. 
But  his  was  a nature  to  which  inactivity  wras  unknown.  When  not  osten- 
sibly employed,  he  was  meditating  subjedds  upon  which  to  engage  his  pencil, 
revolving  a speculative  theory,  or  pouring  forth  the  treasures  of  his  experi- 
ence for  the  advantage  of  others. 

There  is  a beautiful  progression  manifest  in  the  taste  and  views  of  Alls- 
ton. His  original  turn  was  for  comic  scenes — a circumstance  observable 
in  the  case  of  several  religious  painters.  The  sense  of  humor  is  developed 
before  deeper  feelings  awaken.  Art,  like  all  things  else,  presents  itself  to 
the  young  fancy  as  a pastime  rather  than  a mission.  A certain  love  of  the 
supernatural  appears,  however,  as  we  before  observed,  to  have  been  a lead- 
ing characteristic  of  Allston.  It  displayed  itself  at  first  in  the  numerous 
wild  scenes  he  loved  to  depicf,  of  which  the  prominent  figures  were  always 
banditti.  Gradually  this  feeling  assumed  a higher  scope,  as  his  “ Witch  of 
Endor  ” and  “ Spalatro  ” evidence,  and,  at  length,  it  seems  to  have  become 
hallowed  by  more  sacred  emotions,  until  it  aspired  to  embody  those  concep- 
tions of  which  prophets  are  the  exponents,  and  holy  reverence  the  motive. 
The  great  principle  of  his  career  was  individuality,  and  this  is  one  secret 
of  his  fame.  He  did  not  suffer  the  immediate  to  interfere  with  the  essen- 
tial. He  vowed  allegiance  to  no  school,  and  knew  how  to  revere  without 
servilely  imitating.  What  surrounded  never  encroached  upon  what  was 
within.  That  “ the  only  competition  worthy  of  a wise  man  is  with  himself,” 
was  one  of  his  favorite  maxims.  With  a spirit  of  generous  appreciation, 
a truly  catholic  love  of  the  beautiful,  and  an  instinCtive  recognition  of  merit, 
he  yet  felt  that  to  be  true  to  himself  was  his  greatest  privilege  and  highest 
duty.  He  estimated  praise  at  its  just  value,  and  while  its  sincere  expres- 


152 


American  Artist  Life. 


sion  cheered,  it  never  blinded  him.  There  was  an  ideal  in  his  soul,  the 
least  approach  to  which  was  more  satisfactory  than  the  most  eloquent 
paneg)ric.  He  had  ever  in  view  a goal  of  excellence  that  grew  more  dis- 
tant as  he  approached.  To  the  dexterity  of  the  artist  he  united  the  aspira- 
tions of  the  poet.  With  a rare  sensibility  to  pleasure,  he  combined  an  ar- 
dent love  of  truth.  The  law  of  progress  is  the  charter  of  such  a man,  and 
faith  in  the  unattained  a ceaseless  inspiration.  The  details  of  the  career 
of  an  artist  like  this,  fade  before  the  harmonious  influence  of  the  man.  The 
interest  of  his  character  renders  the  mere  events  of  his  life  comparatively 
unattraCtive.  His  writings  and  pictures,  by  not  a few  individuals,  are  less 
cherished  tokens  of  his  existence  than  the  impulse  his  communion  gave  to 
their  minds,  or  the  earnestness  of  aim  his  precepts  and  example  awakened 
in  their  hearts.  It  is  still  a question  what  form  of  intellectual  sway  is 
most  desirable.  The  press  in  modern  times  often  exercises  greater 
power  than  the  pulpit ; and  the  silent  eloquence  of  art  sometimes  grows 
tame  before  the  almost  inspired  words  of  genius.  The  colloquial  gifts  of 
Allston  were  not  the  least  remarkable  of  his  endowments.  What  he  had 
seen  and  felt — the  truth  gained  by  long  wrestling  with  reality — the  percep- 
tion born  of  intercourse  with  the  grandeur  of  the  universe — the  love  created 
by  fond  relations  with  the  beautiful — the  dramatic  incident,  the  moral  im- 
pression, the  glorious  faith  ; all  that  life  and  nature,  society  and  thought, 
had  revealed  to  that  wise  and  feeling  soul,  came  forth,  at  the  genial  hour, 
from  his  lips,  full  of  vitality  and  grace.  His  ready  sympathy  with  the  hum- 
blest brother  in  art,  and  the  wise  fertility  of  his  conversation,  rendered 
his  society  a source  of  improvement  and  pleasure  such  as  it  is  the  lot  of 
few  men  to  afford,  and  now  memorable  and  endeared  by  the  heritage  of  his 
fame. 

A visit  to  Italy  is  perhaps  more  of  an  epoch  in  the  life  of  an  American 
artist  than  in  that  of  any  other.  The  contrast  between  the  new  and  old 
civilization,  the  diversity  in  modes  of  life,  and  especially  the  more  kin- 
dling associations  which  the  enchantment  of  distance  and  long  anticipa- 
tion occasion,  make  his  sojourn  there  an  episode  in  life.  The  education 
and  ideality  of  Allston  rendered  these  influences  peculiarly  operative,  and, 
accordingly,  he  was  wont  to  revert  to  this  period  of  his  life  with  great 
interest.  While  in  Rome,  he  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  daily  companion 
of  Coleridge,  and  their  intercourse  was  the  subject  of  delightful  remi- 
niscence to  both  ever  after.  We  may  easily  imagine  the  iL  feast  of  reason  ” 
they  enjoyed  at  sunset  on  the  Pincian — in  the  calm  grandeur  of  St.  Peter’s 
— upon  the  deserted  area  of  the  Colieum,  and  amid  the  silent  company 
that  peoples  with  beauty  the  long  corridors  of  the  Vatican.  What  an 
infinity  of  subjects  must  there  have  been  suggested  ! The  universality 
of  the  religious  instinct ; the  philosophy  of  art  ; the  destiny  of  man  ; the 
progress  of  freedom  ; the  laws  of  beauty  ; the  immortality  of  the  soul — 
these  and  kindred  themes  rise,  as  it  were,  spontaneously  as  one  wanders 
over  the  wrecks  of  empires.  The  road  once  strewn  with  flowers  to  greet 
the  coronation  of  Laura’s  bard  — the  convent  where  Tasso  died — the 


All st on. 


153 


cupola  that  Michael  Angelo  hung  in  air — the  ivy-grown  walls  of  Caesar’s 
palace — how  must  they  have  inspired  in  such  men,  deep  colloquies  over 
time  and  eternity  ! Nor  less  to  spirits  of  such  poetic  mould  did  the 
emblems  of  the  beautiful  appeal.  Angelic  features  beaming  from  moulder- 
ing frescoes — the  iris  hovering  over  the  fountain — the  gay  weed  flaunting 
above  the  temple’s  broken  floor — the  deep  blue  sky  and  violet  haze  rest- 
ing upon  the  distant  mountain,  a Magdalen’s  golden  hair  or  Madonna’s 
patient  smile,  and  the  soul-parted  lips  of  the  Apollo,  were  endless  sources 
of  grateful  comment  and  sympathetic  admiration.  The  Alps  yielded  yet 
another  memorable  lesson  to  the  painter’s  heart,  and  the  choicest  society 
of  England  ministered  to  his  expanding  intellect,  while  everywhere  and 
always,  the  beautiful  in  nature  caught  his  eye,  and  the  attractive  in  hu- 
manity won  his  love. 

“ I first  became  acquainted  with  Washington  Allston,”  writes  Wash- 
ington Irving,  “early  in  the  spring  of  1805.  Ele  had  just  arrived  from 
France,  I from  Sicily  and  Naples.  I was  then  not  quite  twenty-two  years 
of  age, — he  a little  older.  There  was  something,  to  me  inexpressibly  en- 
gaging in  the  appearance  and  manners  of  Allston.  I do  not  think  I have 
ever  been  more  completely  captivated  on  a first  acquaintance.  Ele  was 
of  a light  and  graceful  form,  with  large,  blue  eyes,  and  black,  silken  hair, 
waving  and  curling  round  a pale,  expressive  countenance.  Everything 
about  him  bespoke  the  man  of  intellect  and  refinement.  His  conversa- 
tion was  copious,  animated,  and  highly  graphic  ; warmed  by  a genial 
sensibility  and  benevolence,  and  enlivened  at  times  by  a chaste  and  gentle 
humor.  A young  men’s  intimacy  took  place  immediately  between  us,  and 
we  were  much  together  during  my  brief  sojourn  at  Rome.  He  was  taking 
a general  view  of  the  place  before  settling  himself  down  to  his  profes- 
sional studies.  We  visited  together  some  of  the  finest  collections  of 
paintings,  and  he  taught  me  how  to  visit  them  to  the  most  advantage, 
guiding  me  always  to  the  masterpieces,  and  passing  by  the  others  with- 
out notice.  ‘ Never  attempt  to  enjoy  every  picture  in  a great  collection,’  he 
would  say,  ‘ unless  you  have  a year  to  bestow  upon  it.  You  may  as  well 
attempt  to  enjoy  every  dish  at  a Lord  Mayor’s  feast.  Both  mind  and 
palate  get  confounded  by  a great  variety  and  rapid  succession,  even  of 
delicacies.  The  mind  can  only  take  in  a certain  number  of  images  and 
impressions  distinctly  ; by  multiplying  the  number,  you  weaken  each,  and 
render  the  whole  confused  and  vague.  Study  the  choice  pieces  in  each 
collection  ; look  upon  none  else,  and  you  will  afterwards  find  them  hang- 
ing up  in  your  memory.’ 

“He  was  exquisitely  sensitive  to  the  graceful  and  the  beautiful,  and  took 
great  delight  in  paintings  which  excelled  in  color  ; yet  he  was  strongly 
moved  and  roused  by  objeCts  of  grandeur.  I well  recolleCt  the  admiration 
with  which  he  contemplated  the  sublime  statue  of  Moses  by  Michael 
Angelo,  and  his  mute  awe  and  reverence  on  entering  the  stupendous  pile 
of  St.  Peter’s.  Indeed,  the  sentiment  of  veneration  so  characteristic  of 
the  elevated  and  poetic  mind  was  continually  manifested  by  him.  His 


154 


American  Artist  Life. 

eyes  would  dilate  ; his  pale  countenance  would  flush  ; he  would  breathe 
quick,  and  almost  gasp  in  expressing  his  feelings,  when  excited  by  any 
object  of  grandeur  and  sublimity. 

“We  had  delightful  rambles  together  about  Rome  and  its  environs,  one 
of  which  came  near  changing  my  whole  course  of  life.  We  had  been 
visiting  a stately  villa,  with  its  gallery  of  paintings,  its  marble  halls,  its 
terraced  gardens  set  out  with  statues  and  fountains,  and  were  returning  to 
Rome  about  sunset.  The  blandness  of  the  air,  the  serenity  of  the  sky, 
the  transparent  purity  of  the  atmosphere,  and  that  nameless  charm  which 
hangs  about  an  Italian  landscape,  had  derived  additional  effedt  from  being 
enjoyed  in  company  with  Allston,  and  pointed  out  by  him  with  the  enthu- 
siasm of  an  artist.  As  'I  listened  to  him,  and  gazed  upon  the  landscape, 
I drew  in  my  mind  a contrast  between  our  different  pursuits  and  pros- 
pects. He  was  to  reside  among  these  delightful  scenes,  surrounded  by 
masterpieces  of  art,  by  classic  and  historic  monuments,  by  men  of  con- 
genial minds  and  tastes,  engaged  like  him  in  the  constant  study  of  the 
sublime  and  beautiful.  I was  to  return  home  to  the  dry  study  of  the  law, 
for  which  I had  no  relish,  and,  as  I feared,  but  little  talent. 

“ Suddenly  the  thought  presented  itself,  ‘Why  might  I not  remain  here, 
and  turn  painter  ? ’ I had  taken  lessons  in  drawing  before  leaving 
America,  and  had  been  thought  to  have  some  aptness,  as  I certainly  had 
a strong  inclination  for  it.  I mentioned  the  idea  to  Allston,  and  he 
caught  at  it  with  eagerness.  Nothing  could  be  more  feasible.  We  would 
take  an  apartment  together.  He  would  give  me  all  the  instrudtion  and 
assistance  in  his  power,  and  was  sure  I would  succeed. 

“ For  two  or  three  days  the  idea  took  full  possession  of  my  mind  ; 
but  I believe  it  owed  its  main  force  to  the  lovely  evening  ramble  in 
which  I first  conceived  it,  and  to  the  romantic  friendship  I had  formed 
with  Allston.  Whenever  it  recurred  to  mind,  it  was  always  connected 
with  beautiful  Italian  scenery,  palaces,  and  statues,  and  fountains,  and 
terraced  gardens,  and  Allston  as  the  companion  of  my  studio.  I 
promised  myself  a world  of  enjoyment  in  his  society,  and  in  the  society 
of  several  artists  with  whom  he  had  made  me  acquainted,  and  pic- 
tured forth  a scheme  of  life  all  tinted  with  the  rainbow-hues  of  youthful 
promise. 

“ My  lot  in  life,  however,  was  differently  cast.  Doubts  and  fears  gradu- 
ally clouded  over  my  prospect ; the  rainbow-tints  faded  away  ; I began  to 
apprehend  a sterile  reality,  so  I gave  up  the  transient  but  delightful  pros- 
pect of  remaining  in  Rome  with  Allston  and  turning  painter. 

a My  next  meeting  with  Allston  was  in  America,  after  he  had  finished 
his  studies  in  Italy  ; but,  as  we  resided  in  different  cities,  we  saw  each 
other  only  occasionally.  Our  intimacy  was  closer  some  years  afterwards, 
when  we  were  both  in  England.  I then  saw  a great  deal  of  him  during 
my  visits  to  London,  where  he  and  Leslie  resided  together.  Allston  was 
dejedted  in  spirits  from  the  loss  of  his  wife,  but  I thought  a dash  of 
melancholy  had  increased  the  amiable  and  winning  graces  of  his  character. 


Allston. 


155 


I used  to  pass  long  evenings  with  him  and  Leslie  ; indeed  Allston,  if  any 
one  would  keep  him  company,  would  sit  up  until  cock-crowing,  and  it  was 
hard  to  break  away  from  the  charms  of  his  conversation.  He  was  an 
admirable  story-teller;  for  a ghost-story,  none  could  surpass  him.  He 

aCted  the  story  as  well  as  told  it “ Leslie,  in  a letter  to  me, 

speaks  of  the  picture  of  ‘ Uriel  seated  in  the  Sun.’  ‘ The  figure  is  co- 
lossal, the  attitude  and  air  very  noble,  and  the  form  heroic,  without  being 
overcharged.  In  the  color  he  has  been  equally  successful,  and,  with  a 
very  rich  and  glowing  tone,  he  has  avoided  positive  colors,  which 
would  have  made  him  too  material.  There  is  neither  red,  blue,  nor 
yellow  on  the  picture,  and  yet  it  possesses  a harmony  equal  to  the  best 
pictures  of  Paul  Veronese.’  The  picture  made  what  is  called  ‘a  decided 
hit,’  and  produced  a great  sensation,  being  pronounced  worthy  of  the  old 
masters.  Attention  was  immediately  called  to  the  artist.  The  Earl  of 
Egremont,  a great  connoisseur  and  patron  of  the  arts,  sought  him  in  his 
studio,  eager  for  any  production  from  his  pencil.  He  found  an  admirable 
picture  there,  of  which  he  became  the  glad  possessor Lord  Egre- 

mont was  equally  well  pleased  with  the  artist  as  with  his  works,  and  in- 
vited him  to  his  noble  seat  at  Pet  worth,  where  it  was  his  delight  to  dispense 
his  hospitalities  to  men  of  genius.  The  road  to  fame  and  fortune  was  now 
open  to  Allston  ; he  had  but  to  remain  in  England,  and  follow  up  the 
signal  impression  he  had  made. 

u Unfortunately,  previous  to  this  recent  success  he  had  been  disheartened 
by  domestic  affliction,  and  by  the  uncertainty  of  his  pecuniary  prospeCts, 
and  had  made  arrangements  to  return  to  America.  I arrived  in  London  a 
few  days  before  his  departure,  full  of  literary  schemes,  and  delighted  with 
the  idea  of  our  pursuing  our  several  arts  in  fellowship.  It  was  a sad  blow 
to  me  to  have  this  day-dream  again  dispelled.  I urged  him  to  remain  and 
complete  his  grand  painting  of  Belshazzar’s  Feast,  the  study  of  which  gave 
promise  of  the  highest  kind  of  excellence.  Some  of  the  best  patrons  of 
the  art  were  equally  urgent.  He  was  not  to  be  persuaded,  and  I saw  him 
depart  with  still  deeper  and  more  painful  regret  than  I had  parted  with 
him  in  our  youthful  days  at  Rome.  I think  our  separation  was  a loss  to 
both  of  us — to  me  a grievous  one.  The  companionship  of  such  a man  is 
invaluable.  For  his  own  part,  had  he  remained  in  England  for  a few 
years  longer,  surrounded  by  everything  to  encourage  and  stimulate  him,  I 
have  no  doubt  he  would  have  been  at  the  head  of  his  art.  He  appeared 
to  me  to  possess  more  than  any  contemporary  the  spirit  of  the  old  mas- 
ters ; and  his  merits  were  becoming  widely  appreciated.  After  his  depar- 
ture, he  was  unanimously  eleCted  a member  of  the  Royal  Academy. 

“ The  next  time  I saw  him  was  twelve  years  afterwards,  on  my  return 
to  America,  when  I visited  him  at  his  studio  at  Cambridge,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, and  found  him,  in  the  gray  evening  of  life,  apparently  much 
retired  from  the  world;  and  his  grand  picture  of  Belshazzar’s  Feast  yet 
unfinished.  To  the  last  he  appeared  to  retain  all  those  elevated,  refined, 


156 


American  Artist  Life. 


and  gentle  qualities  which  first  endeared  him  to  me.  Such  are  a few  par- 
ticulars of  my  intimacy  with  Allston  ; a man  whose  memory  I hold  in 
reverence  and  affeCtion,  as  one  of  the  purest,  noblest,  and  most  intellectual 
beings  that  ever  honored  me  with  his  friendship.”* 

We  have  frequently  alluded  to  the  relation  existing  between  color  and 
language  as  a medium  of  expression.  Allston  exemplified  their  affinity  in 
his  productions.  The  fluency  and  aptitude  of  his  conversation  has  been 
already  noticed,  and  his  literary  productions  display  the  same  traits.  Had 
he  given  equal  attention  to  writing  as  to  painting,  his  success  in  the  former 
would  doubtless  have  been  eminent.  His  “ Monaldi,”  numerous  letters, 
and  a few  poems — all  the  offspring  of  occasional  respite  from  the  pursuit 
of  art — are  distinguished  ’for  graphic  power,  deep  insight,  and  a tasteful 
style.  In  the  tale,  particularly,  there  are  many  passages  wherein  the 
painter  reveals  himself  in  a very  pleasing  way.  The  local  descriptions  and 
dialogues  on  art,  indicate  how  much  reflection  he  had  bestowed  upon  his 
vocation.  No  slight  acquaintance  with  the  development  of  human  passion 
and  sentiment  is  evinced  in  the  characters.  His  heroine  reminds  us  irre- 
sistibly of  his  happiest  female  creations,  overflowing  with  the  spiritual 
warmth  of  his  coloring  and  an  ideal  loveliness  of  expression.  His  son- 
nets are  interesting  as  records  of  personal  feeling.  They  eloquently 
breathe  sentiments  of  intelligent  admiration  or  sincere  friendship  ; while 
the  longer  poems  show  a great  command  of  language  and  an  exuberant 
fancy. 

On  his  return  to  America,  the  life  of  our  illustrious  painter  was  one  of 
comparative  seclusion.  The  state  of  his  health,  devotion  to  his  art,  and 
a distaste  for  promiscuous  society  and  the  bustle  of  the  world,  rendered 
this  course  the  most  judicious  he  could  have  pursued.  His  humble  retire- 
ment was  occasionally  invaded  by  foreigners  of  distinction,  to  whom  his 
name  had  become  precious  ; and  sometimes  a votary  of  letters  or  art 
entered  his  dwelling,  to  gratify  admiration,  or  seek  counsel-  and  encour- 
agement. To  such,  an  unaffeCted  and  sincere  welcome  was  always  given, 
and  they  left  his  presence  refreshed  and  happy.  The  instances  of  timely 
sympathy  which  he  afforded  young  and  baffled  aspirants  are  innumer- 
able. 

Allston’s  appearance  and  manners  accorded  perfectly  with  his  character. 
His  form  was  slight,  and  his  movements  quietly  aCtive.  The  lines  of  his 
countenance,  the  breadth  of  the  brow,  the  large  and  speaking  eye,  and 
the  long  white  hair,  made  him  an  immediate  objeCt  of  interest.  If  not 
engaged  in  conversation,  there  was  a serene  abstraction  in  his  air.  When 
death  so  tranquilly  overtook  him,  for  many  hours  it  was  difficult  to  believe 
that  he  was  not  sleeping,  so  perfectly  did  the  usual  expression  remain. 
His  torch-light  burial  at  Cambridge  harmonized,  in  its  beautiful  solemnity, 
with  the  lofty  and  sweet  tenor  of  his  life. 


* Cyclopaedia  of  American  Literature,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  14-16. 


All  stun. 


157 


The  element  of  beauty  which  in  thee 
Was  a prevailing  spirit,  pure  and  high, 

And  from  all  guile  had  made  thy  being  free, 

Now  seems  to  whisper  thou  canst  never  die  ! 

For  Nature’s  priests  we  shed  no  idle  tear, 

Their  mantles  on  a noble  lineage  fall ; 

Though  thy  white  locks  at  length  have  pressed  the  bier, 
Death  could  not  fold  thee  in  Oblivion’s  pall : 

Majestic  forms  thy  hand  in  grace  arrayed, 

Eternal  watch  shall  keep  beside  thy  tomb, 

And  hues  aerial  that  thy  pencil  stayed, 

Its  shades  with  Heaven’s  radiance  illume  ; 

Art’s  meek  apostle,  holy  is  thy  sway, — 

From  the  heart’s  records  ne’er  to  pass  away  ! 


SULLY. 


HERE  is  a species  of  female  beauty  almost  peculiar  to  this 
country.  Perhaps  it  is  best  described  as  the  very  opposite 
of  robust.  Indeed,  it  is  winsome  partly  from  the  sense  of 
fragility  it  conveys.  Lightness  of  figure,  delicacy  of  fea- 
ture, and  a transparent  complexion  are  its  essentials.  It  is 
suggestive  at  once  of  that  quality  which  the  French  call  spiri- 
tuelle  ‘ and  we  can  readily  account  for  the  partiality  it  excites  in  foreigners, 
from  their  having  been  accustomed  to  the  hearty  attractions  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  or  the  noble  outline  and  impassioned  expression  of  the  Southern 
Europeans.  It  is  an  acknowledged  fact,  that  the  physical  development  of 
American  women  is  precocious,  and  the  decay  of  their  charms  premature. 
The  variability  of  our  climate,  the  want  of  regular  exercise  in  the  open  air, 
and  the  harassing  responsibilities  they  so  early  assume,  too  often  unrelieved 
by  wholesome  pastime,  are  some  of  the  reasons  assigned  for  this  state  of 
things.  Explained  as  it  may  be,  however,  these  characteristics  of  American 
beauty  are  visible  all  around  us  ; and  to  arrest  graces  so  ethereal,  and 
truly  embody  them,  requires  somewhat  of  poetry  as  well  as  skill  in  an 
artist.  If  ever  there  was  a man  specially  endowed  to  delineate  our 
countrywomen,  particularly  those  of  the  Northern  and  Middle  States — 
where  the  peculiarities  we  have  noticed  are  chiefly  observable,  it  is 
Thomas  Sully.  His  organization  fits  him  to  sympathize  with  the  fair 
and  lovely,  rather  than  the  grand  and  comic.  He  is  keenly  alive  to  the 
more  refined  phases  of  life  and  nature.  His  pencil  follows  with  instinc- 
tive truth  the  principles  of  genuine  taste.  He  always  seizes  upon  the 
redeeming  element,  and  avails  himself  of  the  most  felicitous  combina- 
tions. Sully’s  forte  is  the  graceful.  Whatever  faults  the  critics  may 
deteCt  in  his  works,  they  are  never  those  of  awkwardness  or  constraint. 
He  exhibits  the  freedom  of  touch  and  the  airiness  of  outline  which  belong 
to  spontaneous  emanations.  Indeed,  his  defeCt,  comparatively  speaking, 
lies  in  this  fairy-like,  unsubstantial  manner.  Many  of  his  female  portraits 
strike  us  as  “ too  wise  and  good,”  too  like  “ creatures  of  the  element,”  to 
be  loved  and  blamed.  Some  of  them  float  before  the  gaze  like  spirits  of 
the  air,  or  peer  from  a shadowy  canvas  like  enchanted  ladies.  They  are 
half-celestial,  and  we  tremble,  lest  they  should  disappear  as  we  gaze.  As  a 
universal  principle,  we  are  far  from  advocating  this  style,  but  are  there  not 


Sully. 


T59 


subjebts  to  which  it  is  exclusively  adapted?  Do  we  not  meet  human 
beings  who  make  a similar  impression  on  the  mind  ? Lucy  Ashton  is  a 
representative  of  the  species.  Let  us  advert  to  Scott’s  description: — 
“ Her  exquisitely  beautiful,  but  somewhat  girlish  features,  were  formed  to 
express  peace  of  mind,  serenity,  and  indifference  to  the  tinsel  of  worldly 
pleasure.  The  expression  of  the  countenance  was  in  the  last  degree 
gentle,  soft,  timid,  and  feminine,  and  seemed  rather  to  shrink  from  the 
most  casual  look  of  a stranger  than  to  court  admiration.  Something  there 
was  of  a Madonna  cast,  perhaps  the  result  of  delicate  health,  and  of  resi- 
dence in  a family,  where  the  dispositions  of  the  inmates  were  fiercer,  more 
abtive  and  energetic  than  her  own.”  We  cannot  better  designate  Sully’s 
particular  aptitude  than  by  saying  that  he  could  realize  upon  canvas  the 
mental  as  well  as  bodily  portrait  of  such  a heroine.  One  consequence 
of  the  fastidious  taste  and  graceful  perception  of  this  artist  is,  that  where 
the  subjebt  is  unpromising,  he  is  sure  to  catch  the  most  desirable  expres- 
sion. We  often  see  coarsely-moulded  faces  apparently  destitute,  of  all 
charms — faces  that  inspire  respebt  by  the  character  they  display,  but  offend 
ideality,  and  leave  the  affebtions  untouched.  Intimate  acquaintance,  how- 
ever, reveals  a certain  mood  wherein  a softness  gleams  in  the  eyes,  or  a 
smile  flashes  like  some  benign  inspiration,  throwing  over  every  feature  an 
interest  and  grace  undreamed  of  before.  To  this  casual  expression  Sully 
will  apply  himself.  It  seems  a rule  and  habit  with  him  never  to  send  a 
disagreeable  portrait  from  his  easel.  He  has  an  extremely  dexterous  way 
of  flattering,  without  seeming  to  do  so  ; of  crystallizing  better  moments,  and 
fixing  happy  attitudes.  Ail  his  men,  and  especially  his  women,  have  an 
air  of  breeding,  a high  tone,  and  a genteel  carriage.  His  taste  in  costume 
is  excellent.  One  always  feels  at  least  in  good  society  among  his  portraits. 
He  seems  to  paint  only  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Llowever  his  abtual  power 
may  be  estimated,  there  are  about  his  works  the  absolute  traits  of  an 
artist’s  spirit.  There  is  sensibility  in  his  delineations  ; they  are  invariably 
modest,  refined,  and  graceful.  He  never  offends  our  sense  of  the  appro- 
priate, or  trenches  on  the  self-respect  of  those  he  portrays,  by  the  least 
approach  to  exaggeration.  The  series  of  illustrations  of  Shakspeare  he 
commenced,  are  happily,  but  not  forcibly  conceived.  Portia  is  fair  and 
dignified,  but  not  sufficiently  vigorous  ; Isabella  is  as  chaste  and  nunlike 
as  Shakspeare  has  made  her,  but  her  dormant  and  high  enthusiasm  does 
not  enough  appear  ; Miranda,  a charabler  better  adapted  than  either  to 
Sully’s  pencil,  has  an  arch  simplicity  caught  from  Nature  herself. 

Thomas  Sully  was  born  at  Horncastle,  Lincolnshire,  England,  in  June, 
1783.  His  parents  were  ablors,  and  with  them  he  came  to  America  in 
1792,  and  soon  after  began  to  study  the  art  of  painting  in  Charleston,  S.  C. 
In  1813  we  find  him  in  lucrative  prabtice  as  a portrait-limner,  in  Rich- 
mond, Va.  Removing  to  New  York,  a few  years  later,  he  also  succeeded 
there  in  his  profession,  and  finally  settled  in  Philadelphia.  Sully’s  por- 
traits are  widely  scattered,  and  may  be  found  in  the  principal  cities  of  the 
United  States.  Few  of  our  artists  have  attained  eminence  through  a 


i6o 


American  Artist  Life. 


more  severe  ordeal  of  privation  and  discouragement ; and  none  main- 
tained a higher  character  in  all  domestic  and  social  relations,  or  can  look 
back  upon  an  artist-life  associated  with  more  interesting  periods  and  per- 
sons. His  zeal  to  acquire  skill  in  his  profession  at  a time  and  in  a 
country  offering  few  facilities,  may  be  inferred  from  his  employing  Trum- 
bull to  paint  his  wife,  that  he  might  witness  that  artist’s  method  of  work. 
He  left  Richmond  for  England  to  improve  himself  in  his  art,  and  was 
kindly  aided  by  West;  but  returned  to  America  to  take  care  of  the 
family  of  his  brother  Lawrence,  who  died  during  his  absence,  and  whose 
widow  he  subsequently  married.  Thomas  Cooper,  the  American  trage- 
dian, was  one  of  his  earliest  and  most  efficient  friends  ; he  encouraged 
the  artist  to  visit  New  York  ; Stuart  also  cheered  him  at  the  outset  of  his 
career;  and  he,  in  turn,  recognized  and  promoted  the  first  efforts  of 
Leslie.  Indeed,  Sully  is  the  connecting  link  between  the  dawn  and  meri- 
dian of  American  art ; his  reminiscences  embrace  all  the  salient  phases 
of  its  early  history.  A universal  favorite,  on  account  of  his  modest,  amia- 
ble, and  intelligent  nature,  no  painter  among  us  has  enjoyed  more  perma- 
nent social  esteem  and  sympathy.  He  has  delineated  many  celebrated 
people,  having  painted  President  Jefferson  for  West  Point ; Commodore 
Decatur  for  the  City  of  New  York  ; Oueen  Victoria  for  the  St.  George’s 
Society  of  Philadelphia  ; Cooke  as  Richard  the  Third  ; Mrs.  Wood  as 
Amina  ; Dr.  Benjamin  Rush,  Lafayette,  and  many  others.  One  of  his 
latest  works  is  a series  of  illustrations  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  His  ‘‘Wash- 
ington Crossing  the  Delaware  ” is  in  the  possession  of  the  Boston  Mu- 
seum. His  portrait  of  Lafayette  is  in  Independence  Hall,  Philadelphia  ; 
that  of  Decatur  in  the  Governor’s  room,  New  York  City  Hall.  M.  O. 
Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  has  his  “Woman  at  the  Well,”  and  “Girl 
offering  Flowers  at  the  Shrine  ; ” his  Mrs.  Wood  as  “ Amina,”  in  the  opera 
of  La  Sonnambula,  and  his  portraits  of  Cooke,  the  tragedian,  of  Bishop 
White,  Charles  Kemble,  Mrs.  Leslie,  Fanny  Kemble,  E.  L.  Carey,  and 
Benjamin  West,  after  Leslie’s  copy  from  Lawrence,  are  in  the  Philadel- 
phia Academy  of  Fine  Arts  ; Henry  C.  Carey,  Esq.,  has  his  “Isabella” 
and  Fanny  Kemble  as  “Juliet.”  At  Baltimore  are  his  portraits  of  J.  B.  and 
Mrs.  Morris,  Reverdy  Johnson,  and  others  ; his  full-length  of  Charles 
Carroll  belongs  to  the  McTavish  estate,  in  the  same  city. 

His  present  residence  is  a large  old-fashioned  brick  mansion  on  Sixth 
street,  just  above  Chestnut,  in  which  he  has  lived  during  the  last  thirty- 
six  years. 

“ The  veteran  was  found,”  says  a recent  visitor,  “ working  diligently  at 
his  easel,  having  just  been  engaged  in  copying  a portrait  of  a young  girl, 
recently  completed,  but  spoiled  by  some  fault  in  the  canvas.  During  a 
half-hour’s  conversation,  Mr.  Sully  exhibited  a wonderful  richness  of 
anecdote  and  observation,  nor  did  his  memory  appear  to  be  seriously  im- 
paired. He  began  by  deploring  the  fact  that  artists  are  so  much  at  the 
mercy  of  the  canvas-preparers,  and  stated  that  for  a long  time  he  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  preparing  his  own.  He  stated  the  circumstance  of 


Sully. 


1 6 1 


his  endeavoring  to  beat  into  the  head  of  an  Englishman  in  this  country 
the  proper  method  of  proceeding  in  this  matter,  on  which  occasion  his 
kindly  proffered  information  was  disdainfully  disregarded.  This  led  to 
the  narration  of  several  incidents  illustrative  of  the  obstinacy  of  his 
countrymen,  as  he  called  the  English,  although  himself  an  American  for 
the  last  seventy-three  years.  The  subject  of  his  unusual  health  and 
activity  at  so  advanced  an  age  being  referred  to,  Mr.  Sully  remarked  that 
many  .years  ago,  when  painting  the  portrait  of  Charles  Carroll,  of  Car- 
rollton, who  was  at  that  time  ninety  years  of  age,  he  asked  him  for  a ‘ leaf 
from  his  book.’  ‘Temperance  in  all  things,’  said  Carroll,  ‘is  the  secret 
of  long  life ; there  must  be  as  little  friCtion  as  possible  in  any  part,  in 
order  that  the  machine  shall  not  wear  itself  out.’  Another  gentleman 
subsequently  gave  the  painter  an  additional  hint  with  regard  to  comforta- 
ble old  age  : ‘ A man,’  said  he,  ‘ must  have  a hobby.’  Painting  was 

Mr.  Sully’s  hobby,  and  he  declared  his  intention  of  riding  it  until  he 
should  be  taken  away.  When  it  was  suggested  that  he  had  certainly,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  world,  ‘ridden  his  hobby  well,’  Mr.  Sully  replied  : ‘ I 

make  no  pretensions.  The  best  that  any  of  us  now  can  do  is  feeble  in 
comparison  with  that  which  has  been  done.’ 

“In  adverting  to  the  present  high  prices  paid  for  everything,  ‘except 
portraits,’  it  was  observed  that  this  was  caused  in  large  part  by  the  num- 
ber of  inferior  artists,  who  were  willing  to  dispose  of  their  portraits  at 
inferior  prices.  Mr.  Sully  remarked,  with  a touch  of  sadness  in  his  voice, 
that  he  hoped  they  would  leave  the  old  man  enough  to  do  for  a little  while 
longer.  He  spoke  with  considerable  feeling  of  the  kindness  of  the 
authorities  in  abstaining  from  tearing  down  the  house  in  which  he  lived, 
in  order  to  make  way  for  a proposed  street.  He  supposed  they  knew  that 
‘the  old  man  could  not  live  much  longer,  and  were  willing  to  spare  him 
that  pain.’  He  did  not,  therefore,  expeCt  to  leave  the  place  until  he 
should  ‘be  carried  out  feet  foremost.’  The  walls  of  a room  adjoining 
Sully’s  studio — a small  piCture-gallery,  in  faCfc — are  covered  with  his  own 
works,  of  which  one  of  the  most  interesting  is  that  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion : ‘ T.  S.,  London,  May  15,  1838.  My  original  study  of  the  Queen  of 
England,  Victoria,  painted  from  life,  Buckingham  House.’” 

Sully  is  identified  to  an  unusual  extent  with  the  ornaments  of  the  stage. 
He  is  a discriminating  lover  of  adling  and  music.  His  portraits  of  Cooke, 
Fanny  Kemble,  and  Mrs.  Wood,  are  among  his  most  genial  and  successful 
efforts.  Within  a few  years  he  has  executed  a very  spirited  portrait  of 
Washington,  in  the  aCt  of  reviewing  the  troops,  at  the  time  of  the  whiskey 
riots.  There  is  a chivalrous  dignity  in  the  expression  and  gesture,  rarely 
so  effectively  embodied.  The  war  with  Mexico  broke  off  a negotiation 
whereby  this  picture  would  have  been  purchased  by  the  government  as  a 
donation  to  a foreign  potentate.  Talent  for  the  arts  is  natural  to  Sully’s 
family.  His  English  parents  were  gifted  with  dramatic  ability  ; his  brother, 
whom  he  soon  out-rivalled,  initiated  him  into  practice,  and  his  children 
excel  in  tasteful  accomplishments.  He  mind  is  by  no  means  exclusive  in 

1 1 


1 62 


American  Artist  Life. 


its  appreciation,  but  readily  perceives  whatever  of  grace  is  discernible  in 
the  whole  range  of  literature  and  art.  His  associations  have  favored  this 
native  insight,  and  a remarkably  liberal  and  amiable  disposition  makes  him 
cognizant  of  the  least  symptom  of  merit.  His  kindness  to  young  artists  is 
proverbial,  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  induce  him  to  play  the  critic,  so  prone 
is  he  to  seize  upon  the  hopeful  aspebt — not  only  of  the  face  he  is  depicting, 
but  of  the  character  or  production  submitted  to  his  judgment.  Sully  was 
very  early  thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  and  his  connections  were  de- 
pendent upon  him  at  an  age  when  other  artists  are  usually  free  of  all  respon- 
sibility, but  such  as  their  vocation  imposes.  The  manly  and  cheerful  spirit 
in  which  he  met  the  exigencies  of  his  youth,  is  worthy  of  his  generous  heart. 
His  voluntary  sacrifices’  at  this  period,  equal  those  of  any  of  his  noble  com- 
peers. Many  anecdotes  are  related,  all  significant  of  that  elasticity  which 
seems  to  belong  to  the  artistic  organization.  Goldoni  compares  despond- 
ency to  a fencer,  and  says,  as  long  as  one  stands  upon  his  guard,  and 
parries  the  enemy’s  attack,  there  is  no  danger  ; but  the  moment  a defensive 
attitude  is  resigned,  the  thrusts  prove  fatal.  Upon  this  principle  Sully  abted 
at  the  discouraging  opening  of  his  career.  At  the  South,  where  his  labors 
as  an  artist  commenced,  for  a long  time  they  gained  him  a very  precarious 
subsistence.  His  zeal  for  improvement  led  him  to  visit  Europe  with  in- 
sufficient means,  and  the  economy  he  practised  for  many  months  in  Lon- 
don, would  form  a striking  chapter  in  the  annals  of  self-denial.  Hare 
Powell,  of  Philadelphia,  was  an  efficient  friend  at  this  crisis,  and  through  his 
aid,  several  private  galleries  were  opened  to  the  young  artist,  and  he  was 
enabled  to  study  the  English  school  of  portraiture  under  signal  advantages. 
He  has  experienced  to  a remarkable  degree  the  caprices  of  fortune.  Taste 
has  undergone  a variety  of  flubtuations  since  he  became  known  to  fame. 
The  branch  of  art  he  espoused,  and  even  the  peculiar  excellences  for  which 
he  has  been  distinguished,  exposed  him  to  a more  than  ordinary  reliance 
on  the  fashion  of  the  day.  Sometimes  he  has  been  overwhelmed  with 
orders,  and  at  others,  obliged  to  change  his  residence  for  the  sake  of  em- 
ployment. For  many  years,  however,  he  has  prosecuted  his  art  in  Phila- 
delphia, where  few  men  are  so  deservedly  respebted  and  beloved. 


MORSE. 


^SSfflRHEN  Allston  was  painting  his  “ Dead  Man  restored  to  Life,’: 
in  London,  he  first  modelled  the  figure  in  clay,  and  explain- 
ed  to  Morse,  who  was  then  his  pupil,  the  advantages  result- 
ing from  a plan  so  frequently  adopted  by  the  old  masters. 
His  young  countryman  was  at  this  time  meditating  his  first 
composition, — a dying  Hercules,  — and  proceeded  at  once  to 
abt  upon  this  suggestion.  Having  prepared  a model  that  exhibited  the 
upper  part  of  the  body, — which  alone  would  be  visible  in  the  pibture, — he 
submitted  it  to  Allston,  who  recognized  so  much  truth  in  the  anatomy  and 
expression,  that  he  urgently  advised  its  completion.  After  six  weeks,  by 
careful  labor,  the  statue  was  finished,  and  sent  to  West  for  inspebtion. 
That  venerable  artist,  upon  entering  the  room,  put  on  his  spectacles,  and 
as  he  walked  around  the  model,  carefully  examining  its  details  and  general 
efifebt,  a look  of  genuine  satisfabtion  beamed  from  his  face.  He  rang  for  an 
attendant,  and  bade  him  call  his  son.  “Look  here,  Raphael,”  he  exclaimed, 
as  the  latter  appeared  ; “ did  I not  always  tell  you  that  every  painter  could 
be  a sculptor?”  We  may  imagine  the  delight  of  the  student  at  such 
commendation.  The  same  day  one  of  his  fellow-pupils  called  his  attention 
to  a notice  issued  by  the  Adelphi  Society  of  Arts,  offering  a prize  for  the 
best  single  figure,  to  be  modelled  and  sent  to  the  rooms  of  the  association 
within  a certain  period.  The  time  fixed  would  expire  in  three  days.  Morse 
profited  by  the  occasion,  and  placed  his  “Dying  Hercules”  with  the  thirteen 
other  specimens  already  entered.  He  was  consequently  invited  to  the 
meeting  of  the  society  on  the  evening  when  the  decision  was  to  be  an- 
nounced ; and  received  from  the  hands  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the  pre- 
siding officer,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  foreign  ambassadors,  the  gold 
medal.  Perhaps  no  American  ever  started  in  the  career  of  an  artist  under 
more  flattering  auspices  ; and  we  cannot  wonder  that  a beginning  so  suc- 
cessful encouraged  the  young  painter  to  devote  himself  assiduously  to  study, 
with  a view  of  returning  to  his  own  country  fully  prepared  to  illustrate  the 
historical  department  of  the  art. 

An  illustrious  aspirant  had  been  assured,  but  a few  years  previous,  when 
he  announced  a similar  purpose  to  the  President  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
that  he  had  come  a great  way  to  learn  how  to  starve.  Indeed,  so  limited 
was  the  number  of  individuals  who  at  that  period  felt  any  true  interest  in 
the  fine  arts  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  so  completely  were  the 


164 


American  Artist  Life. 

energies  of  our  young  nation  absorbed  in  trade  and  politics,  that  an  enter- 
prise like  that  which  unfolded  itself  to  the  sanguine  hopes  of  Morse,  might 
well  be  deemed  chimerical.  But  he  was  then  breathing  an  atmosphere  of 
sympathy;  he  enjoyed  the  friendship  and  instruction  of  men  distinguished 
for  their  knowledge  and  ability,  and  who  had  reached  in  England  the 
eminence  at  which  he  aimed.  His  application  was  not,  therefore,  chilled 
by  any  painful  doubts  of  future  success,  might  he  but  live  to  prove  him- 
self worthy  of  the  high  service  to  which  he  thus  earnestly  dedicated  his 
life.* 

A striking  evidence  of  the  waywardness  of  destiny  is  afforded  by  the 
experience  of  this  artist,  if  we  pass  at  once  from  this  early  and  hopeful 
moment  to  a more  recent  incident.  He  then  aimed  at  renown  through  de- 
votion  to  the  beautiful ; but  it  would  seem  as  if  the  genius  of  his  country, 
in  spite  of  himself,  led  him  to  this  objebt,  by  the  less  flowery  path  of 
utility.  He  desired  to  identify  his  name  with  art,  but  it  has  become  far 
more  widely  associated  with  science.  A series  of  bitter  disappointments 
obliged  him  to  “coin  his  mind  for  bread” — for  a long  period,  by  exclusive 
attention  to  portrait-painting — although,  at  rare  intervals,  he  accomplished 
something  more  satisfactory.  More  than  thirty  years  since,  on  a voyage 
from  Europe,  in  a conversation  with  his  fellow-passengers,  the  theme  of 
discourse  happened  to  be  the  eleCtro-magnet ; and  one  gentleman  present 
related  some  experiments  he  had  lately  witnessed  at  Paris,  which  proved 
the  almost  incalculable  rapidity  of  movement  with  which  electricity  was 
disseminated.  The  idea  suggested  itself  to  the  aCtive  mind  of  the  artist, 
that  this  wonderful,  and  but  partially  explored  agent,  might  be  rendered 
subservient  to  that  system  of  intercommunication  which  had  become  so 
important  a principle  of  modern  civilization.  He  brooded  over  the  sub- 
ject as  he  walked  the  deck,  or  lay  wakeful  in  his  berth,  and  by  the  time  he 
arrived  at  New  York,  had  so  far  matured  his  invention  as  to  have  decided 
upon  a telegraph  of  signs,  which  is  essentially  that  now  in  use.  After 
having  sufficiently  demonstrated  his  discovery  to  the  scientific,  a long 
period  of  toil,  anxiety,  and  suspense  intervened  before  he  obtained  the 
requisite  facilities  for  the  establishment  of  the  Magnetic  Telegraph.  It 
is  now  in  daily  operation  in  the  United  .States,  and  its  superiority  over  all 
similar  inventions  abroad,  was  confirmed  by  the  testimony  of  Arago  and 
the  appropriation  made  for  its  ereCtion  by  the  French  government.  By 
one  of  those  coincidences,  which  would  be  thought  appropriate  for 
romance,  but  which  are  more  common,  in  fa6t,  than  the  unobservant  are 
disposed  to  confess,  these  two  most  brilliant  events  in  the  painter’s  life — 
his  first  successful  work  of  art  and  the  triumph  of  his  scientific  discovery 
—were  brought  together,  as  it  were,  in  a manner  singularly  fitted  to 

* “ The  great  feature  of  the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy,”  says  the  “ British  Press,”  of  May 
4th,  1813,  “ is,  that  it  presents  several  works  of  very  high  merit  by  artists  with  whose  performances  and 
even  with  whose  names  we  were  hitherto  unacquainted.  At  the  head  of  this  class  of  Historical  are 
Messrs.  Monro  and  Morse.  The  prize  of  History  may  be  contended  by  Mr.  Northcote  and  Mr. 
Stothard.  Hilton,  Turner,  Lane,  Monro,  and  Morse  follow  in  the  same  class.” 


Morse. 


165 

impress  the  imagination.  Six  copies  of  his  “ Dying  Hercules”  had  been 
made  in  London,  and  the  mould  was  then  destroyed.  Four  of  these  were 
distributed  by  the  artist  to  academies,  one  he  retained,  and  the  last  was 
given  to  Mr.  Bulfinch,  the  architect  of  the  Capitol — who  was  engaged  at 
the  time  upon  that  building.  After  the  lapse  of  many  years,  an  accident 
ruined  Morse’s  own  copy,  and  a similar  fate  had  overtaken  the  others,  at 
least  in  America.  After  vain  endeavors  to  regain  one  of  these  trophies 
of  his  youthful  career,  he  at  length  despaired  of  seeing  again  what  could 
not  fail  to  be  endeared  to  his  memory  by  the  most  interesting  associations. 
One  day  he  was  superintending  the  preparations  for  the  first  establish- 
ment of  his  telegraph,  in  the  room  assigned  at  the  Capitol.  His  per- 
severance and  self-denying  labor  had  at  length  met  its  just  reward, 
and  he  was  taking  the  first  active  step  to  obtain  a substantial  benefit 
from  his  invention.  It  became  necessary  in  locating  the  wires,  to  de- 
scend into  a vault  beneath  the  apartment,  which  had  not  been  opened 
for  a long  period.  A man  preceded  the  artist  with  a lamp.  As  they 
passed  along  the  subterranean  chamber,  the  latter’s  attention  was  excited 
by  something  white  glimmering  through  the  darkness.  In  approaching  the 
objebt,  what  was  his  surprise  to  find  himself  gazing  upon  his  long-lost 
Hercules,  which  he  had  not  seen  for  twenty  years.  A little  reflection 
explained  the  apparent  miracle.  This  was  undoubtedly  the  copy  given  to 
his  deceased  friend,  the  architect,  and  temporarily  deposited  in  the  vault 
for  safety,  and  undiscovered  after  his  death. 

Samuel  Finley  Breese  Morse,  son  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jedidiah  Morse,  a 
well-known  Presbyterian  clergyman  and  educational  writer,  of  Charles- 
town, Mass.,  was -born  there  on  the  27th  of  April,  1791  ; he  graduated  at 
Yale  College  in  1810,  and  the  following  year  went  to  England  with  Allston 
to  study  painting  ; returning  to  the  United  States  in  1815,  he  organized  a 
drawing  association,  whence  sprang  the  New  York  Academy,  in  its  re- 
newed form,  of  which  he  was  the  first  president ; revisiting  Europe  in 
1829,  he  passed  three  years  on  the  continent ; and  on  his  return  was  cho- 
sen Professor  of  the  Arts  of  Design  in  the  institution  he  originated. 
During  the  period  from  his  first  visit  to  England  to  his  second  return  to 
America,  he  was  an  industrious  limner,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  and  his 
pencil  was  alternately  occupied  in  landscape,  composition,  and  portraiture. 
His  mind,  however,  was  not  exclusively,  perhaps  not  predominantly 
artistic  ; he  wrote  fluently,  was  an  habitual  student  and  observer  in  the 
field  of  general  knowledge,  and  had  a decided  scientific  turn  and  execu- 
tive capacity  ; of  broad  social  instinbts  and  enterprising  mental  scope, 
there  was  less  of  the  professional  limner,  and  more  of  the  liberal  and 
philosophical  inquirer  about  him,  than  is  often  discoverable  among  our 
artists.  As  early  as  when  a student  at  Yale  College,  he  had  manifested 
strong  interest  in  chemistry,  as  expounded  by  President  Day  ; and  Pro- 
fessor Dana’s  lebtures  on  Electro-Magnetism,  alternated  at  the  Athenaeum 
in  1826-7  with  those  of  Professor  Morse  on  the  Fine  Arts.  The  latter 
was  present  when  the  elebtro-magnet  was  first  exhibited  in  this  country ; 


American  Artist  Life . 


1 66 

and  he  never  ceased  to  speculate  upon  the  subject ; so  that  when,  in  the 
autumn  of  1832,  on  board  the  Havre  packet  ship  Sully,  on  her  way 
to  New  York,  he  discussed  the  identity  of  magnetism  with  electricity, 
and  the  possibility  of  obtaining  the  eleCtric  spark  from  the  magnet,  and 
its  application  to  telegraphic  science, — the  direction  of  his  inquiries  was 
the  result  of  long  and  familiar  reflection,  — a faCt  which  adds  to  the 
external  testimony  to  his  claim  to  originality  and  priority  in  recognizing 
the  principle  of  his  subsequent  triumphant  invention.  As  an  artist 
Morse  had  enjoyed  unusual  social  privileges  ; but  his  scientific  fame  won 
him  more  honors  of  a foreign  and  public  kind,  than  were  ever  before  be- 
stowed on  an  American  ; honorary  gratuities  from  European  govern- 
ments, orders,  medals*,  banquets,  court  fetes  and  civic  compliments 
have  been  profusely  awarded  him  ; and  the  story  of  his  long-baffled 
efforts  and  final  success  is  as  remarkable,  if  not  as  romantic,  as  any  in  the 
annals  of  discovery. 

Those  who  are  fond  of  localities  attractive  from  having  been  the  abodes 
of  men  whose  names  are  enrolled  on  the  scroll  of  human  benefadfors, 
should  not  pass  with  indifference  No.  8 Buckingham  Place,  Fitzroy 
Square,  London.  It  was  the  residence  of  successive  American  painters  for 
thirty  years,  and  not  long  since  the  landlady  preserved  on  the  walls  the 
portraits  of  Leslie  and  Morse.  The  friendship  of  these  two  painters  is 
interesting,  and  helps  to  brighten  the  golden  link  which  associates  the 
name  of  the  latter  with  the  first  dawn  of  Art  in  this  republic — a period 
which  we  trust  will  one  day  have  an  importance  in  critical  history,  from 
the  glory  we  are  confident  our  nation  will  yet  shed  upon  this  sphere  of 
culture.  Morse  went  abroad  under  the  care  of  Allsfon,  and  was  the 
pupil  of  West  and  Copley.  Hence  he  is  naturally  regarded  by  a later 
generation  as  the  connecting  bond  that  unites  the  present  and  the  past  in 
the  brief  annals  of  our  artist-history.  But  his  claim  to  such  a recognition 
does  not  lie  altogether  in  the  faCt  that  he  was  a pioneer  ; it  has  been 
worthily  evidenced  by  his  constant  devotion  to  the  great  cause  itself. 
Younger  artists  speak  of  him  with  affeCtion  and  respeCt,  because  he  has 
ever  been  zealous  in  the  promotion  of  a taste  for,  and  a study  of,  the  fine 
arts.  Having  entered  the  field  at  too  early  a period  to  realize  the  promise 
of  his  youth,  and  driven  by  circumstances  from  the  high  aims  he  cher- 
ished, misanthropy  was  never  suffered  to  grow  out  of  personal  disap- 
pointment. He  gazed  reverently  upon  the  goal  it  was  not  permitted  him 
to  reach  ; and  ardently  encouraged  the  spirit  which  he  felt  was  only  to  be 
developed,  when  wealth  and  leisure  had  given  his  countrymen  opportuni- 
ties to  cultivate  those  tastes  upon  the  prevalence  of  which  the  advance- 
ment of  his  favorite  pursuit  depends.  When,  after  the  failure  of  one  of 
his  elaborate  projects,  he  resolved  to  establish  himself  in  New  York,  he 
was  grieved  to  find  that  many  petty  dissensions  kept  the  artists  from  each 
other.  He  made  it  his  business  to  heal  these  wounds,  and  reconcile  the 
animosities  that  thus  retarded  the  progress  of  their  common  object.  He 
sought  out,  and  won  the  confidence  of,  his  isolated  brothers,  and  one 


Morse. 


1 67 


evening  invited  them  all  to  his  room,  ostensibly  to  eat  strawberries 
and  cream,  but  really  to  beguile  them  into  something  like  agreeable 
intercourse.  He  had  experienced  the  good  effedt  of  a drawing-club  at 
Charleston,  where  many  of  the  members  were  amateurs  ; and  on  the  occa- 
sion referred  to,  covered  his  table  with  prints,  and  scattered  inviting  casts 
around  the  apartment  A very  pleasant  evening  was  the  result ; a mutual 
understanding  was  established,  and  weekly  meetings  unanimously  agreed 
upon.  This  auspicious  gathering  was  the  germ  of  the  National  Academy 
of  Design,  of  which  Morse  became  the  first  president,  and  before  which 
he  delivered  the  first  course  of  ledtures  on  the  Fine  Arts  ever  given  in 
this  country.  The  question  as  to  the  comparative  utility  of  associations 
of  patrons  and  artists,  has  been  discussed  and  tested  by  experiment  suffi- 
ciently to  satisfy  every  reasonable  mind  of  the  vast  superiority  of  institu- 
tions managed  by  those  best  informed  and  most  interested  in  any  great 
public  object.  The  prejudice  and  selfish  motives  which  were  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  new  society,  failed  in  the  end,  as  they  deservedly  should. 
It  would  be  an  useless  and  ungrateful  task  to  repeat  the  details  of  the 
controversy.  Morse  was  in  a great  measure  sacrificed  by  the  prominent 
part  he  took  in  these  transactions  ; but  the  Academy  has  flourished,  and 
is  yet  achieving  its  work  bravely,  while  the  artists  look  upon  their  cham- 
pion with  pride  and  sympathy.  This  was  clearly  exhibited  by  their 
voluntary  and  fraternal  attempt  to  console  him  for  the  marked  negledt  of 
his  claims,  when  the  original  selection  was  made  of  painters  to  fill  the 
vacant  panels  of  the  rotunda  at  Washington.  Together  with  other 
friends,  they  formed  an  association,  and  gave  Morse  a commission  to 
execute  the  painting.  Owing  to  the  non-payment  of  a portion  of  the 
instalments,  and  to  the  injudicious  plan  of  the  artist  to  carry  out  his  de- 
sign on  too  grand  and  expensive  a scale,  and  his  consequent  pecuniary 
embarrassment,  he  was  obliged  to  abandon  the  attempt.  By  a course  of 
rigid  and  patient  economy,  highly  creditable  to  his  integrity,  he  gradually 
refunded  to  each  subscriber  the  sum  advanced,  with  appropriate  expres- 
sions of  gratitude  for  the  liberal  intention  ; and  was  thus  eminently  true 
to  himself,  in  resolutely,  and  at  great  personal  sacrifice,  emancipating  him- 
self from  the  degrading  consciousness  of  pecuniary  obligation. 

After  four  years  of  study  in  Europe,  Morse  had  returned  to  the  United 
States  from  lack  of  means  to  carry  on  his  education  abroad.  Although  he 
then  deemed  himself  by  no  means  a proficient,  he  hoped,  while  pursuing 
the  course  of  improvement  so  auspiciously  commenced,  to  obtain,  at  home, 
such  employment,  in  the  higher  branches  of  his  profession,  as  would  give 
some  adequate  scope  to  his  powers.  In  Boston,  however,  although  he  was 
flattered  enough  by  social  consideration,  he  received  no  orders,  and  was 
obliged,  from  sheer  necessity,  to  travel  through  New  England,  and  execute 
portraits  at  fifteen  dollars  each,  and  finally  to  set  up  his  easel  at  Charleston, 
S.  C.,  where  he  continued  this  employment  for  several  years — emulating, 
however,  the  more  artistic  styles  of  portraiture  with  ample  success 
and  honor.  To  keep  up  his  practice  in  composition,  he  often  carried 


1 68 


American  Artist  Life. 


his  heads  to  the  North,  where  he  passed  every  summer  with  his  family, 
and  there  transferred  them  to  larger  canvas —introducing  rich  costume  or 
tasteful  accessories  into  his  full-lengths,  so  that  many  of  them  did  justice 
to  his  general  ability  as  a painter.  Stuart  happened  to  see  one  of  these, 
representing  a young  girl  standing  amid  the  ruins  of  an  abbey  beside  a 
fawn.  The  conception  and  execution  delighted  him,  and  his  praise  spread 
its  reputation  so  widely,  that  Morse  was  obliged  to  furnish  several  copies. 
Among  other  notable  works  by  Morse  are  a portrait  of  Thorwaldsen,  exe- 
cuted in  Rome,  a striking  and  pleasing  likeness,  sold  at  the  recent  dis- 
persion of  the  Wright  collection  for  four  hundred  and  forty  dollars  ; por- 
traits of  Mayors  Paulding  and  Allen,  and  of  Lafayette,  in  the  New  York  City 
Hall ; of  Chancellor  Kent,  originally  in  the  possession  of  Philip  Hone, 
Esq.  ; a Peasant  Girl  of  Nettuno,  and  a portrait  of  Mrs.  Breese,  in  the 
possession  of  T.  R.  Walker,  Esq.,  of  Utica,  N.  Y.  ; and  one  of  S.  N.  Dex- 
ter, belonging  to  Ward  Hunt,  Esq.,  of  the  same  city.  Huntington,  Baker, 
and  other  of  his  fellow-artists  have  painted  striking  portraits  of  Morse, 
whose  keen  dark  eye,  and  white  hair  and  beard,  as  well  as  personal  asso- 
ciations, make  him  a favorite  subjedt. 

There  is  a Convent  of  Capuchins  at  Rome,  which  is  visited  by  strangers 
on  account  of  a very  old  fresco,  representing  Christ  walking  on  the  waves, 
and  an  excellent  mosaic  copy  of  Guido’s  Michael  triumphing  over  Satan, 
that  adorn  the  walls.  Those  who  have  a taste  for  horrors,  also  view  the 
cemetery  beneath  fantastically  ornamented  with  the  bones  of  deceased 
friars.  But  to  the  artist,  the  church  is  memorable  for  the  fine  arrangement 
of  light,  and  the  simple  yet  effective  perspective.  On  this  account  the 
interior  is  often  sketched  and  painted  ; and  when  a few  bearded  monks  of 
the  order  are  judiciously  placed  about  the  altar  and  in  the  aisles,  the  scene 
becomes  quite  impressive,  and  the  ocular  illusion  very  pleasing.  A French 
artist  exhibited  such  a representation  of  this  convent  in  the  United  States, 
and  it  attracted  an  extraordinary  degree  of  attention.  Morse  had  painted, 
when  abroad,  a similar  picture  of  the  Louvre,  including  the  principal  works 
of  art  in  that  famous  gallery — in  miniature,  but  faithful  copies— and  it  was 
one  of  his  most  successful  and  interesting  works.  The  idea  naturally 
suggested  itself  to  take  advantage  of  the  evident  taste  recently  manifested 
for  this  species  of  painting.  He  had  laid  by  sufficient  to  enable  him  to 
give  the  necessary  time  to  the  experiment,  and  selected  for  his  subjeCt  the 
interior  of  the  House  of  Representatives  of  the  United  States.  It  might 
have  been  reasonably  anticipated  that  so  national  a theme,  if  treated  with 
any  success,  would  be  popular.  The  picture  cost  nearly  two  years’  severe 
labor,  and  was  attended  with  considerable  expense.  When  exhibited,  how- 
ever— from  what  cause  does  not  appear — it  brought  little  profit  to  the 
artist,  and  he  soon  rolled  up  the  huge  canvas  in  disgust.  In  one  of  the 
poet  Percival’s  letters,  dated  at  New  Haven  in  1823,  he  says  to  a friend: 
L'  I will  tell  you  one  thing,  sub  rosa.  Morse’s  pidture  of  Congress  Hall  has 
cost  him  one  hundred  and  ten  dollars  to  exhibit  in  New  York.  Tell  it  not 
in  Gath  ! He  labored  at  it  eighteen  months,  and  spent  many  hundred  dol- 


Morse. 


169 


Jars  in  its  execution  ; and  now  he  has  to  pay  the  public  for  looking  at  it. 
Allston  says  it  is  a masterpiece  of  coloring  and  perspective.  Who  would 
write  or  paint  any  good  thing  for  such  a fashionable  vulgar  as  ours  ? For 
my  part,  I am  tired  of  patting  the  dogs.  I will  now  turn  to  kicking 
them.”*  When  sent  to  England,  several  political  characters  and  men  of 
taste  among  the  nobility,  expressed  great  admiration  of  the  work,  and 
were  much  interested  in  the  portraits  introduced,  which  were  very  cleverly 
arranged,  and  perfectly  authentic. 

After  this  signal  disappointment,  Morse  determined  to  visit  Mexico,  as 
an  attache  to  the  American  Legation  ; and  it  might  prove  a curious  specu- 
lation to  imagine  what  destiny  his  active  disposition  would  have  achieved 
in  that  fertile  and  unhappy  country,  had  the  design  been  carried  into  exe- 
cution ; but,  after  having  made  all  needful  preparations,  taken  leave  of  his 
family,  and  even  embarked  his  stores,  the  minister  was  suddenly  recalled 
almost  ere  his  journey  had  begun,  and  the  artist  returned  home,  and  event- 
ually abandoned  the  plan.  In  1822-3,  Morse  was  greatly  encouraged  in 
his  pursuits  by  the  friendly  exertions  of  the  poet  Hillhouse,  and  received 
a public  commission  to  paint  a portrait  of  Lafayette,  then  on  a visit  to  this 
country.  Few  pictures  have  ever  been  executed  under  more  painful  cir- 
cumstances. He  was  called  away  from  his  delightful  task  to  attend  the 
death-beds  of  his  wife  and  parent,  and  watch  over  the  illness  of  his  chil- 
dren. In  the  beautiful  cemetery  of  New  Haven  is  a monument  upon 
which  he  caused  to  be  inscribed  : — “ In  memory  of  Lucretia  Pickering, 
wife  of  Samuel  F.  B.  Morse,  who  died  Feb.  7,  A.  D.  1825,  aged  25  years. 
Beautiful  in  form,  features,  and  expression,  bland  in  her  manners,  highly 
cultivated  in  mind  ; dignified  without  haughtiness,  amiable  without  tame- 
ness, firm  without  severity,  cheerful  without  levity  ; in  suffering  the  most 
keen  her  serenity  of  mind  never  left  her;  though  suddenly  called  from 
earth,  eternity  was  no  stranger  to  her  thoughts,  but  a welcome  theme  of 
contemplation.” 

But  through  bereavement  and  “ hope  deferred,”  Morse  struggled  man- 
fully onward,  loyal  to  his  own  convictions  and  the  claims  of  his  profession. 
A second  marriage  and  a delightful  rural  home,  with  visits  to  Europe, 
have  agreeably,  of  late  years,  relieved  the  care  and  monotony  of  lawsuits 
and  other  business  incident  to  his  telegraph  patents.  The  artistic  reputa- 
tion of  Morse  has  long  faded  in  the  glow  of  his  scientific  fame  ; and  the 
vicissitudes  of  his  artistic  life  are  forgotten  in  the  prosperity  of  his  execu- 
tive career.  He  has  put  his  artist  fire  into  a locomotive  shape,  and  writes 
with  eleCtric  fluid  instead  of  painting  in  oil.  His  last  picture  hangs  in  the 
drawing-room  of  “ Locust-Grove,”  his  beautiful  domain  on  the  Pludson  ; 
and  while  it  indicates  too  much  skill  and  feeling  for  the  lover  of  art  not  to 
regret  his  withdrawal  from  the  field,  it  also  symbolizes  the  domestic  enjoy- 
ment, which,  with  science  and  a great  public  economy,  now  more  than  fill 
the  deserted  sphere  of  his  youth  : it  is  an  admirable  full-length  portrait 


* The  Life  and  Letters  of  James  Gates  Percival,  by  J.  R.  Ward. 


American  Artist  Life. 


I/O 

of  his  daughter.  His  continued  interest  in  American  art  and  love  of  her 
worthy  votaries  was  gracefully  manifest  in  his  reeledlion,  after  the  lapse 
of  years,  to  the  presidency  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design, — a spon- 
taneous recognition  of  his  early  labors  in  its  behalf,  and  of  the  permanent 
affection  of  the  members  ; and,  although  he  held  the  position  but  for  a 
brief  interval,  his  presence  and  sympathy  are  always  exhibited  on  every 
occasion  of  artistic,  social,  or  professional  interest.  His  latest  indication 
of  his  regard  for  the  artist-friend  of  his  youth,  and  the  welfare  of  his  alma 
mater , was  his  recent  purchase  of  Allston’s  picture  of  ‘•'Jeremiah  ” for  seven 
thousand  dollars,  and  his  presentation  thereof  to  Yale  College.  He  never 
believed  that  anything  really  great  or  desirable  could  be  attained  save 
through  obstacles.  Courage  and  patience  have  been  his  watchwords  ; and 
although  the  snows  of  time  have  bleached  his  hair,  the  same  intelligent 
and  enterprising  spirit,  the  same  urbane  disposition  that  endeared  him  to 
the  friends  of  his  youth,  still  cause  all  who  know  him  to  rejoice  in  the 
honorable  independence  which  his  great  invention  has  secured  to  his  age. 


LESLIE. 


HE  demise  of  this  amiable  man  and  accomplished  artist  on 
the  5th  May,  1859,  broke  another  of  those  pleasing  ties 
whereby  the  intellectual  associations  of  the  Old  World  are 
blended  with  those  of  the  New.  Born  of  American  parents, 
on  English  soil,  London,  OCt.  17,  1794,  his  early  struggles 
in  Art  cheered  on  the  one  side  of  the  ocean,  and  his  best 
triumphs  attained  on  the  other,  Leslie  was  one  of  the  precious  names  whose 
renown  is  equally  divided  between  the  two  great  countries  sacred  to  free- 
dom. His  earliest  sitters  in  London  were  Americans  : his  best  patrons, 
when  his  genius  was  matured,  were  English  noblemen  ; at  one  time  teacher 
of  drawing  at  West  Point,  he  died  a Royal  Academician. 

The  life  of  an  artist,  in  the  abstract,  would  seem  one  of  the  most  tran- 
quil, independent,  and  desirable.  When  adopted  from  love,  and  with  the 
requisite  capacity,  and  followed  with  reCtitude  and  aspiration,  we  should 
imagine  it  at  once  harmonious  and  elevated.  Such,  however,  is  often  the 
sensitiveness  of  the  artistic  organization,  the  indifference  of  the  multitude, 
and  the  conditions  of  practical  success,  that  the  record  of  no  class  of  lives 
is  more  shadowed  by  misfortune,  or  marred  by  perversity,  than  those  of 
the  artists.  Cellini’s  skilful  hand  was  as  frequently  employed  in  knock- 
ing down  an  enemy,  as  in  carving  a chalice  ; Salvator’s  name  is  associated 
with  turbulence  as  often  as  with  the  picturesque  ; the  bitter  controversy 
between  the  romantic  and  classic  schools  of  France  wrought  as  much  woe 
as  many  theological  or  political  strifes  ; and  the  suicidal  despair  of  Haydon 
finds  its  parallel  in  many  an  artist’s  career.  Moreover,  jealousy,  want  of 
tact,  improvidence,  egotism,  and  moderate  abilities  are  frequent  and  fruit- 
ful sources  of  error  and  privation.  When,  therefore,  we  meet  with  one 
who  is  true  to  himself  and  his  vocation,  who  finds  contentment  in  the  love 
of  beauty  and  the  patient  exercise  of  talent,  and  hallows  his  endowments 
by  manliness,  benignity,  and  faith,  it  is  at  once  a duty  and  a pleasure  to 
recognize  his  worth  and  analyze  the  causes  of  his  success.  The  latter  will 
be  found  to  consist  in  elements  of  character  by  no  means  rare,  in  opportu- 
nities accessible  to  many,  and  in  principles  within  the  reach  of  all.  It  is 
delightful  to  contemplate  such  a life  as  Charles  Robert  Leslie’s, — so  con- 
sistent, satisfactory,  and  complete.  Endowed  with  exquisite  perceptions 


172 


American  Artist  Life . 


and  a happy  temper,  eager  for  improvement,  patient  both  in  study  and  under 
criticism,  with  a keen  relish  of  the  intellectual,  a fine  sense  of  the  humor- 
ous, with  high  and  loyal  social  instincts, — honorable,  genial,  and  refined, — 
he  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  blessings,  earnestly  cultivated  the  powers,  and 
nobly  used  the  privileges  of  genius.  His  success  was  as  much  the  result 
of  character  as  of  talent,  as  direCtly  the  fruit  of  good  sense  and  good  feeling 
as  of  fortunate  circumstances.  Hence  his  autobiography  and  correspond- 
ence * inculcate  a precious  lesson  for  the  profit  of  others  of  like  tastes  and 
purposes. 

“ At  a dinner,”  writes  one  of  his  friends,  “at  which  Allan  Cunningham, 
the  poet,  danced  with  national  glee  round  a haggis,  which,  as  yet  unpunc- 
tured, had  not  breathed  forth  its  savory  stream,  the  party  were  noisy, — but 
Leslie,  always  quiet  and  thoughtful,  was  lost  in  contemplation  of  the  dark 
lustre  and  flashing  brilliancy  of  a silver  spoon.  ‘ How  much  more  value,’ 
said  the  studious  painter,  £ are  these  tints  than  those  of  gold  plate  ; how 
exquisite  the  simple,  pure  lustre,  the  pearliness,  the  quiet  brilliancy.’  This 
anecdote  shows  us  the  very  key-note  of  Leslie’s  system  of  color,  from 
‘ Sancho  and  the  Duchess’  down  to  the  ‘ Oueen  and  Jeannie  Deans,’  al- 
ways 1 the  silver  spoon, — it  might  have  been  his  crest.  In  design  and  sub- 
ject he  might  have  followed  Smirke  and  Newton,  but  in  color  he  was  born 
with  the  silver  spoon  in  his  mouth.” 

He  was  eminently  true  to  his  convictions, — satisfied  to  do  what  he  could 
do  best.  Few  painters  have  wasted  less  time  in  vain  attempts  to  work  be- 
yond their  sphere,  to  sacrifice  their  individual  gifts  at  the  shrine  of  fashion 
or  ambition.  He  soon  learned  wherein  to  him  peculiar  excellence  was  attain- 
able. He  thought  and  wrote  in  1813,  that,  “ to  insure  a picture  currency, 
it  is  necessary  that  it  should  tell  either  some  Scriptural  or  classical  story.” 
He  believed  then  in  Benjamin  West  more  than  in  Raphael.  Hogarth  had 
initiated,  and  Wilkie  had  triumphed  in,  the  then  unrecognized  field  of  the 
domestic  and  characteristic  ; sympathy  with  the  household  literature  of 
his  vernacular  suggested  to  Leslie  a new  phase  of  this  negleCted  branch. 

He  had  the  sensibility  to  feel  and  the  sense  to  follow  its  attractions. 
Having  deliberately  chosen  the  work  best  adapted  to  his  powers,  he  sys- 
tematically cultivated  all  means  of  progress  therein  ; studying  the  elements 
of  design,  the  laws  of  form,  expression,  and  color,  in  the  Elgin  marbles,  the 
cartoons  of  Raphael,  the  masters  of  the  Flemish  school,  and  other  masters, 
like  Paul  Veronese  ; seeking  subjeCts  in  the  favorite  scenes  and  characters 
of  standard  literature,  and  inspiration  from  nature,  the  “ comedy  of  life,” 
and  the  graces  and  gifts  of  superior  men. 

Leslie’s  culture,  as  revealed  in  his  life  and  letters,  is  singularly  harmonious 
and  complete  ; indicating,  with  remarkable  clearness,  the  mutual  relation  of  the 
arts, — how  they  interfuse  as  mental  resources,  and  mutually  interpret  each 
other,  when  studied  with  practical  wisdom.  It  is  true  that  specific  branches 


* Autobiographical  Recollections  by  the  late  Charles  Robert  Leslie,  edited,  with  a Prefatory  Essay 
on  Leslie,  the  artist,  and  Selections  from  his  Correspondence,  by  Tom  Taylor,  Esq.,  Boston,  1865. 


Leslie. 


1 73 


of  painting  demand  peculiar  kinds  and  degrees  of  discipline, — that  each 
department  obtains  facilities  from  somewhat  diverse  resources, — and  that 
the  pictorial  range  most  congenial  to  Leslie,  derived  advantage  from  tastes 
and  habitudes  not  available  to  the  same  extent  in  other  cases  ; yet  his 
methods  and  means  furnish  no  common  lesson,  and  commend  themselves 
to  the  sense  and  the  sentiment  so  essential  to  excellence  in  all  art  as  a vo- 
cation. Expression  is  the  constant  aim, — the  grand  desideratum  ; its  scope 
in  this  instance  was  refined,  human,  familiar, — embracing  the  comic  and 
the  characteristic,  rather  than  the  sublime  and  ideal ; and  for  this  the  painter 
looked  to  society  and  the  drama, — to  literature  and  life, — not  in  their 
grandest,  but  in  their  most  delicately  significant  phases.  We  can  imagine 
no  better  school,  therefore,  than  the  stage  at  the  period  of  Leslie’s  early 
studies.  His  love  of  the  drama  was  an  affinity.  When,  a boy,  in  Phila- 
delphia, he  stood  absorbed  on  the  “flies”  to  see  Cooke  perform,  and  won 
his  employer’s  cooperation  in  his  project  to  become  a painter,  by  the  crude 
but  faithful  likeness  he  made  of  that  great  actor,  he  was  unconsciously  ex- 
hibiting both  his  claim  and  his  endowment  for  his  peculiar  career.  To  him 
the  theatre  was  a grand  life-school ; fortunately,  he  enjoyed  its  palmy  era. 
The  dramatic  element  of  his  art  was  thus  made  familiar.  His  earliest  let- 
ters from  London  are  filled  with  descriptions  of  the  Kembles,  Mrs.  Siddons, 
Kean,  Elliston,  Young,  Downton,  and  the  other  living  masters  of  dramatic 
art.  Not  a trait  was  lost  upon  him  ; he  sketched  their  faces,  criticised 
their  manner  and  costume,  compared  them  with  each  other  in  different 
parts,  and,  by  careful  and  sympathetic  observation,  became  an  adept  in  all 
the  delicate  shades  of  personation,  the  nice  analogies  of  expression  and 
sentiment.  We  are  disposed  to  attribute  no  small  degree  of  his  aptitude 
in  giving  the  right  expression  with  his  pencil  to  imaginary  characters,  to 
the  faCts  and  principles  he  thus  acquired.  When  we  remember  how  mono- 
tonous is  the  dress,  conventional  the  manner,  and  prosaic  the  aspeCt  of 
every-day  London  people,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  what  a refreshment  to  the 
fancy,  and  how  suggestive  to  the  painter,  the  English  theatre  must  have 
been.  The  instinCt  of  genius  led  this  artist  in  his  youth  to  practise  rigid 
economy,  and  undergo  great  personal  inconvenience  in  order  to  witness  the 
performance  of  the  best  aCtors.  His  reminiscences  of  them,  by  their  preci- 
sion and  vividness,  testify  to  his  intellectual  obligations.  Campbell,  in  his 
well-known  tribute  to  John  Kemble  upon  his  retirement  from  the  stage, 
has  eloquently  compared  the  dramatic  and  the  fine  arts  ; and  while  he 
justly  asserts  that  the  former  include  the  latter,  he  recognizes  the  law  of 
compensation  in  the  faCt  that  what  the  drama  gains  in  completness,  it  loses 
in  permanence.  But  the  philosophical  truth  is,  that  these  arts,  if  not  mu  - 
tually dependent,  are  at  least  mutually  inspiring,  in  a manner  and  to  an  ex- 
tent rarely  so  distinctly  shown  as  in  Leslie’s  experience.  His  artistic  suc- 
cess is  an  impressive  tribute  to  the  practical  value  of  the  stage.  Lamb 
renewed  his  humanity  at  that  now  desecrated  shrine  ; but  Leslie  obtained 
there  the  choicest  materials  of  his  graceful  art.  It  was  at  the  theatre  that 
he  realized  the  infinite  possibilities  of  human  expression,  and  intelligently 


174 


American  Artist  Life. 


traced  the  relation  of  thought  and  feeling,  fancy  and  character,  to  the  won- 
derful transitions  of  physiognomy,  attitude,  and  gesture. 

Next  to  the  stage,  and  more  direCtly,  Leslie  was  indebted  to  literature. 
The  affinities  between  this  pursuit  and  that  of  art,  often  recognized,  have 
seldom  been  so  exquisitely  displayed  as  in  his  career.  Indeed,  his  tone 
of  mind,  his  scope  of  execution,  the  spirit  he  was  of,  seem  almost  identi- 
cal with  those  of  a certain  class  of  authors.  Character  and  scenes  were 
the  subjects  upon  which  he  instinctively  expatiated  ; but  they  were  of  a 
special  kind,  and  peculiar  to  English  literature,  and  the  popular  master- 
pieces, in  the  same  vein,  of  two  foreign  tongues.  When  we  examine  the 
more  felicitous  results  of  Leslie’s  pencil,  and  read  his  favorite  authors,  it 
is  easy  to  perceive  that  only  an  accidental  difference  in  the  mode  of 
expression  prevented  the  limner  from  being  an  author.  He  looked  at 
nature  and  life  with  the  same  eyes.  What  the  poets  and  romance-writers 
he  loved  translated  into  words,  he  embodied  in  outlines  and  color.  We 
deteCt  the  dominance  of  his  peculiar  taste  in  art,  in  his  choice  of  books 
while  yet  an  art-student.  Still  later,  the  same  tendency  is  evident  in  his 
social  proclivities  ; and  his  works  bear  testimony  to  his  ability  to  repro- 
duce on  canvas  the  characters  so  akin  to  his  inventive  faculty  as  to  make 
them  appear  like  original  creations,-  instead  of  suggested  themes. 

His  correspondence  with  Irving  is  a charming  illustration  of  the  possi- 
ble kindness  between  an  author  and  an  artist.  Not  only  were  his  early 
sketches  the  pictures  which  his  friend’s  writings  impressed  upon  his  sym- 
pathetic fancy,  but  such  was  the  normal  affinity  between  them,  that  the 
companionship  of  each  was  apparently  essential  to  the  other.  The  bur- 
den of  their  letters,  when  separated,  was  to  ascertain  precisely  how  they 
were  respectively  employed.  Irving,  sensitive  and  reticent  as  he  was  by 
nature  in  all  that  regarded  himself  and  his  works,  freely  and  fondly  wrote 
and  talked  to  Leslie  of  what  he  was  doing,  hoped  to  accomplish,  or  failed 
to  realize.  He  longed  for  his  presence,  his  counsel,  and  his  sympathy, 
and  reverts  to  their  “ tea-kettle  debauches,”  their  visits  to  fairs  and  the 
play,  their  conversations  and  excursions,  with  the  partiality  and  the 
regrets,  not  of  romantic  friendship,  but  of  an  intellectual  necessity  and 
moral  resource.  On  the  other  hand,  the  artist  cannot  see  a fine  landscape, 
or  an  odd  scene,  — the  grace  of  nature  under  a novel  aspeCt,  or  the 
comedy  of  life  in  the  shape  of  a casual  adventure, — without  wishing  his 
friend  “partaker  in  his  happiness,”  that  to  the  personal  advantage  thereof 
may  be  added  that  other  rare  and  benign  privilege,  “division  of  the 
records  of  the  mind.”  One  is  glad  his  brother  artist  is  “getting  on  so 
well  with  his  picture  ; ” the  other  hopes  his  dear  absentee  is  “ in  the  mood 
for  writing.”  They  suggest  subjects  for  one  another  ; they  indulge  in 
playful  badinage  on  their  early  privations  ; they  mutually  condole,  and 
cheer,  and  congratulate,  with  the  frankness  and  fervor  only  possible  to 
kindred  spirits.  One  uses,  to  describe  his  forlorn  consciousness  when 
alone,  the  expressive  phrase  of  feeling  “lobsided  ; ” the  other  begs  for  a 
letter  as  for  mental  sustenance.  “ I not  only  owe  to  you,”  writes  Leslie 


Leslie. 


1 75 


to  Irving,  “some  of  the  happiest  social  hours  of  my  life,  but  you  opened 
to  me  a new  range  of  observation  in  my  own  art,  and  a perception  of  the 
qualities  and  character  of  things  which  painters  do  not  always  imbibe 
from  each  other.”  How  apt  are  some  of  the  hints  the  author  gives  the 
limner,  either  for  a new  subject  or  an  improved  treatment  of  one  already 
adopted  ; and  how  cordial  and  wise  are  the  words  of  praise,  of  criticism, 
or  of  encouragement,  with  which  the  latter  reciprocates  ! It  was  while 
detained  at  an  inn  at  Oxford,  with  Leslie,  that  the  subject  of  one  of 
Irving’s  best  humorous  sketches — “The  Stout  Gentleman” — was  sug- 
gested, to  be  worked  out  when  their  journey  was  resumed  in  a “ pen- 
cilling by  the  way.”  Doubtless  the  name  of  the  bankrupt  husband,  in 
“The  Wife,”  was  adopted  from  the  painter’s, — then  unknown  to  fame  ; 
and  how  like  an  artist  is  the  projedl  of  a composition,  representing 
Shakespeare  arraigned  for  deer-stealing,  sketched  in  a letter  from 
Geoffrey  Crayon  ; while  no  small  secret  of  his  own  style  is  hinted  when, 
in  answer  to  Leslie’s  matter-of-fa<5l  corredlion  of  a passage  in  the  “ Sketch 
Book,”  he  inquires  if  it  will  not  injure  the  melody  of  the  sentence  ? “ I 

am  delighted  to  find  your  labors  are  to  be  so  interwoven  with  mine,” 
writes  the  author  of  the  “ Sketch  Book  ” and  “ Knickerbocker  ” to  the 
illustrator  of  those  works.  But  it  was  not  chiefly  in  mutual  work  that 
their  early  careers  were  thus  identified.  The  aid  which  only  genuine 
sympathy  can  give — the  choicest  inspiration  of  art  and  literature,  as  well 
as  life — quickened  and  moulded  their  development.  This  process  and 
principle  is  evident  in  a less  degree,  but  continuous  and  efficient,  through- 
out the  artist-life  of  Leslie,  and  in  his  communion  and  companionship 
with  Newton  and  Rogers,  West  and  Constable,  Scott,  Allston,  Coleridge, 
Wilkie,  Turner,  Stothart,  Kenney,  and  many  other  eminent  artists  and 
authors.  It  is  impossible  to  estimate  either  the  impulse  or  the  discipline 
for  refined  and  admirable  achievements,  which  Leslie  thus  realized.  To 
the  companionship  and  sympathy,  the  insight  and  example  of  these  seledl 
intelligences,  his  conceptions  and  his  executive  skill  owe  much  of  their 
excellence,  not  on  account  of  special  teaching,  but  through  the  potent 
influence  of  a mental  atmosphere  which  enriched  and  chastened  the 
genius  of  the  painter.  In  the  case  of  Irving  the  intimate  and  genial  rela- 
tion is  more  distinctly  apparent,  and  its  fruits  better  defined.  It  has  also 
all  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  youthful  associations  ; and  it  is  interesting 
to  note  its  continued  recognition  when  time,  distance,  and  fame  had  sepa- 
rated the  two  friends.  We  can  appreciate  Irving’s  declaration, — “ I find 
nothing  to  supply  the  place  of  that  heart-felt  fellowship  ; ” and  when  we 
visited  Leslie,  four  years  before  his  death,  the  earnest  and  minute  in- 
quiries he  made  about  Irving,  and  the  interest  with  which  he  listened 
to  every  detail  of  his  welfare,  showed,  even  to  a stranger’s  eye,  the  un- 
dimmed glow  of  that  early  love. 

It  was  natural  that  Leslie’s  first  success  in  his  peculiar  department  of 
art  should  be  in  treating  a dramatic  subject, — the  “ Death  of  Rutland,” 
from  Henry  VI.  Thenceforth,  with  the  exception  of  an  occasional  por- 


176 


American  Artist  Life . 

trait,  a few  Scripture  scenes,  and  some  historical  pieces,  popular  literature 
furnished  him  with  congenial  subjects.  With  the  instindt  of  genuine 
talent,  he  sought  in  that  pleasant  table-land  of  the  Muses — where  less 
impassioned  phases  of  humanity  find  expression — the  appropriate  sub- 
jects for  his  pencil.  There  are  vastly  higher  flights  of  imagination, 
deeper  revelations  of  the  soul,  characters  of  more  earnest  and  vital 
power,  scenes  grander  and  more  tragic,  than  those  he  selected  ; but  none 
more  adapted  to  the  delicate  triumphs  of  the  limner’s  art,  more  expressive 
of  the  pleasant  and  healthful  side  of  human  life,  or  better  fitted  to  become 
household  favorites.  He  gave  a “local  habitation”  to  some  of  the 
choicest  creations  of  comic  and  domestic  literature,  made  familiar  to  the 
eye  what  had  long  charmed  the  mind,  and  emphasized  by  delineation  the 
wit  and  pathos  which  before  haunted  the  fancy  in  vague  and  varying, 
instead  of  definite  images.  Think  of  the  gallery  of  endeared  ideal  por- 
traits, for  which  we  are  thus  indebted  to  Leslie  — Sir  Roger  de  Coverley, 
Master  Slender,  sweet  Anne  Page,  Falstaff,  Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Ague- 
cheek,  Autolycus,  the  Merry  Wives,  Dame  Quickly,  Beatrice,  Perdita, 
Don  Quixote,  Sophia  Western,  Viola,  Hermione,  Sancho  and  the 
Duchess,  Uncle  Toby,  the  Malade  Imaginaire , Widow  Wadman  and 
Belinda,  Jeannie  Deans,  Hotspur,  and  Lady  Percy. 

Ruskin  said  : “ The  more  I learn  of  art,  the  more  respeCt  I feel  for  Mr. 
Leslie’s  painting,  as  such  ; and  for  the  way  in  which  it  brings  out  the 
expressional  result  he  requires.  Given  a certain  quantity  of  oil  color  to 
to  be  laid  with  one  touch  of  pencil,  so  as  to  produce  at  once  the  subtlest 
and  largest  expressional  result  possible,  and  there  is  no  man  now  living 
who  seems  to  me  to  come  at  all  near  Mr.  Leslie,  his  work  being  in  places 
equal  to  Hogarth  for  decision,  and  here  and  there  a little  lighter  and 
more  graceful.” 

To  appreciate  the  success  of  an  artist  in  such  works  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  every  one  of  these  characters  was  and  is  an  ideal  favorite  ; that 
all  sympathetic  readers  of  Shakespeare,  Sterne,  Fielding,  Moliere,  Cervantes, 
Addison,  and  Pope,  cherish  a personal  feeling  towards  imaginary  portraits  of 
their  favorites.  The  painter  addressed  exacting  critics  and  fond  spectators 
every  time  he  essayed  to  embody  these  conceptions  of  the  dramatist,  the 
novelist,  and  the  humorist.  To  say  that  he  gave  satisfaction,  often  high 
delight,  always  pleasure,  is  awarding  no  ordinary  praise.  To  meet  the 
demand  of  such  an  ordeal  required  not  only  the  ability  to  give  accurate 
expression,  the  conscientious  study  of  costume  and  accessories,  the  har- 
monies of  Art,  as  well  as  the  truth  of  Nature,  but  a rare  degree  of  judg- 
ment and  taste  was  also  requisite  in  order  not  to  offend  the  preconceived 
standard  of  excellence,  the  moral  verisimilitude  present  to  the  countless 
minds  to  which  these  subjects  were  “ familiar  as  household  words.”  How- 
ever inferior  to  sacred  or  historical  art,  therefore,  his  sphere  may  be,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  ideal  aspirant,  the  standard  it  was  indispensable  to  reach, 
both  as  to  technical  merit  and  felicitous  invention,  made  Leslie’s  success 
a rare  triumph.  The  period  of  his  studies  and  first  achievements  was 


Leslie. 


1 77 


one  of  transition  ; it  was  a new  era  in  literature,  art,  and  politics.  The 
supremacy  of  West  in  historical  painting  was  still  undisputed.  Reynolds, 
Gainsborough,  and  Hogarth  represented  the  recognized  victories  of  the 
English  school,  and  their  influence  is  obvious  in  the  practice  and  the  ideas 
destined  to  excel  in  a different  department  from  that  in  which  these  con- 
summate artists  gained  renown.  The  precepts  of  Sir  Joshua  were  author- 
itative with  Leslie,  and  few  artists  better  appreciated  the  great  portrait- 
painter  of  the  previous  age.  His  latest  work  was  a biographical  tribute 
to  Reynolds.  The  approbation  of  West  was  Leslie’s  pride,  his  criticism  a 
law  ; while  no  one  can  examine  the  touches  of  nature  in  his  most  expres- 
sive figures  without  feeling  how  much  Hogarth’s  manner  suggested.  A 
new  and  remarkable  school  of  English  artists,  at  this  time,  simultaneously 
wrought  marvels  ; some  of  them — such  as  Flaxman,  Martin  Stothart, 
Fuseli,  and  Constable — with  genius  above  and  different  from  the  current 
taste.  Others,  like  Wilkie,  by  the  most  acute  treatment  of  familiar  scenes 
in  common  life,  or,  like  Turner,  by  a fresh,  bold,  and  masterly  style  in 
landscape,  especially  in  aerial  perspective,  opened  a new  and  popular  field 
of  pictorial  art ; Etty  in  flesh-tints,  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  by  elaborate 
elegance  in  portraiture,  and  Chantrey  in  statuary,  raised  the  character  and 
fame  of  local  art  to  a prominent  though  limited  rank. 

The  arrival  of  the  Elgin  marbles  in  England  awakened  in  the  better 
class  of  artists  a new  perception  of  the  ancient  ideals,  and  the  grandest 
method  of  following  the  teachings  of  nature.  Landseer’s  marvellous  skill 
in  delineating  animal  life  had  made  evident  unimagined  possibilities  of 
meaning  and  merit  in  what  had  been  deemed  an  inferior  branch  of  art  ; 
and  the  beauty  and  effeCt  attained  by  the  best  painters  in  water  colors, 
had  established  novel  precedents.  Another  faCt  singularly  conspicuous 
was  the  great  progress  and  increased  popularity  of  engraving  in  England, 
— whereby  popular  pictures  were  multiplied.  The  pictures  of  Leslie  were 
remarkably  adapted  to  the  burin,  and  thus  became  more  valuable  and 
famous.  He  advocated  the  admission  of  superior  engravers  to  academic 
honors,  from  a grateful  sense  of  his  obligation  to  their  skill. 

The  stage  had  reached  its  acme  of  celebrity ; the  novels  of  Miss  Bur- 
ney, Mrs.  Radcliffe,  and  Miss  Porter  had  yielded  to  the  historical  romances 
of  the  Great  Unknown,  and  the  sensible  narratives  of  Maria  Edgeworth  ; 
anew  poem  by  Scott,  Byron,  or  Moore,  was  the  literary  sensation  of  the 
day  ; the  tocsin  of  political  reform  had  sounded  ; Lord  Brougham’s  versa- 
tile powers  and  Horner's  eloquence  made  an  epoch  in  Parliamentary 
debates  ; famous  travellers  and  savans  rendered  the  soirees  of  Sir  Joseph 
Banks  attractive  ; the  stage-coach  had  not  been  superseded  by  the  rail- 
way ; the  curfew  was  yet  tolled  in  remote  districts  ; Napoleon’s  meteoric 
career  made  foreign  news  a perpetual  military  drama  ; it  was  the  era  of 
Percival's  assassination  and  the  war  of  1812,  of  Waterloo  and  Trafalgar  ; 
— and  all  these  elements  of  civic  and  social  life  were  more  or  less  influen- 
tial in  that  education  of  circumstances,  which,  despite  his  comparative 
seclusion  from  the  world  of  affairs,  shape  the  mind  of  the  artist.  A call 

12 


*78 


American  Artist  Life. 


from  Scott  to  inspebt  his  unfinished  pibture  of  “ Christmas  in  the  Olden 
Time  ; ” a sojourn  at  a noble  domain,  or  a visit  to  an  old  castle  ; a trip  to 
Paris  to  explore  the  Louvre ; attendance  at  the  theatre  to  witness  Mrs. 
Siddons’  last  appearance  ; a breakfast  with  Rogers,  to  meet  a literary  or 
artistic  celebrity  ; a twelve-hours’  vigil  in  the  Abbey  to  see  Victoria 
crowned,  or  a more  brief  and  sad  attendance  there  to  behold  the  obsequies 
of  West, — these  and  such  as  these  were  the  opportunities  and  the  exigen- 
cies which  Leslie’s  times  yielded  ; — enough  certainly  of  outward  interest  to 
recreate  and  enlighten  the  mind  in  the  intervals  of  an  absorbing  vocation. 

How  efficiently  Leslie’s  social  developed  and  disciplined  his  artistic  life  ! 
In  such  memoirs  as  his  we  feel  the  blessedness  of  rare  and  true  com- 
panionship. The  “ che'erful,  innocent,  scrambling  student-life  ; ” the  sub- 
sequent period  of  youthful  and  manly  work,  enlivened  by  mutual  counsel 
and  fun  between  “ Geoffrey  Crayon,”  “ the  Childe,”  and  the  “dear  boy  ; ” 
and  the  succeeding  great  social  privileges  which  came  with  renown, — all 
contributed  felicitously  to  the  success  as  well  as  happiness  of  the  painter. 
Among  the  incidental  means  of  this  kind  to  which  he  alludes  with  satis- 
faction, is  the  “ Sketch  Club,”  whose  meetings  were  held  at  stated  periods 
at  the  residence  of  each  member,  in  succession.  Two  hours  were  assidu- 
ously devoted  to  sketching  a subjebt  only  announced  at  the  moment ; and 
the  compositions  became  the  property  of  the  host  of  the  evening.  We  had 
the  pleasure  of  examining  one  set  of  these  impromptu  sketches,  executed 
at  Leslie’s  house,  and  sent  by  him  to  relatives  in  America.  The  subject 
was  “ Night,”  and  it  was  marvellous  how  varied  and  complete  were  the 
results  of  the  brief  pastime.  One  artist  treated  Night  for  its  sentiment, 
and  drew  lovers  by  moonlight  ; another  made  a picturesque  effebt  of  cliff, 
tree,  and  shadow  ; Stanfield  had  a fine  sea-view  in  a midnight  storm  ; a 
humorous  sketch  delineated  a court-yard,  with  cats  fighting,  and  an  old 
fellow  in  his  nightcap  ludicrously  expostulating  from  a high  window  ; in 
short,  the  nobturnal  in  nature  and  life  was  exhibited  under  every  aspebt, 
fiom  the  most  romantic  to  the  most  natural ; and  the  cleverness  of  design, 
the  degree  of  finish  and  individuality  of  each  sketch,  gave  one  a pleasant 
idea  of  the  facility  of  execution  attained  by  the  artists.  Leslie  believed  in 
mastery  of  ideas  in  art,  more  than  imitative  or  technical  skill.  Even  in 
portraiture  he  often  gave  the  most  expressive  touches  from  memory,  and 
commanded,  to  a singular  extent,  the  requisites  of  facile  execution  in  his 
chosen  sphere. 

At  Vibtoria’s  coronation,  very  desirable  seats  were  given  to  academicians. 
During  Sully’s  last  visit  to  London,  Leslie  one  day  was  describing  the 
spebtacle  to  him  with  an  artist’s  enthusiasm  ; and  dwelt  especially  upon  the 
manner  in  which  the  central  figure  struck  his  vision,  as  a gleam  of  sun- 
shine played  upon  the  ermine  of  the  peers,  and  the  diamond  wheat  in  the 
hair  of  the  maids  of  honor,  until  it  fell,  like  a halo,  around  the  head  of  the 
fair  young  queen,  kneeling  to  receive  the  sacrament.  Sully,  with  his  usual 
consideration,  suggested  to  Leslie  to  paint  what  so  obviously  haunted  his 
imagination  ; and  a few  days  after,  he  found  the  artist  brooding  over  the 


Leslie. 


179 


subject,  for  it  was  one  of  his  peculiar  habits  to  complete  a picture  in  his 
mind  before  touching  the  canvas.  Accordingly,  after  long  deliberation,  the 
light,  shade,  and  grouping  were  arranged  to  his  satisfaction.  The  princi- 
pal persons  present  on  the  occasion  agreed  to  sit  for  their  portraits,  and 
her  Majesty  cordially  favored  the  design.  The  beautiful  scene  was  thus 
commemorated  with  exquisite  skill  and  taste.  It  served  to  renew  Leslie’s 
popularity,  and  will  ever  be  a charming  evidence  of  his  tasteful  ability  and 
artistic  power. 

To  be  moved  by  gentle  excitements  and  won  by  quiet  charms,  proves 
refinement  of  feeling  and  alacrity  of  mind.  It  is  one  of  the  most  striking 
tokens  of  advancing  civilization,  that  popular  amusements  gradually  lose  all 
coarseness.  The  sports  of  the  arena  give  way  to  the  drama  ; buffoonery 
and  horrors  are  succeeded  by  classic  dialogue  and  inspiring  arias.  Paint- 
ing exemplifies  the  same  transition  ; and  from  martyrdoms  and  heathen 
divinities,  by  degrees,  turns  to  domestic  scenes  and  glimpses  of  humor  and 
sentiment.  The  school  of  modern  English  art  is  the  legitimate  offspring 
of  her  high  civilization.  As  in  science  cognizance  is  now  taken  of  minutiae 
on  account  of  the  spread  of  general  knowledge,  in  art,  the  details  of  life 
awaken  an  interest,  and  furnish  a resource  unavailable  in  earlier  times, 
when  a few  leading  ideas  moved  society.  The  change  is  less  favorable  to 
the  grand  than  the  graceful  development  of  talent.  Still  there  is  a whole- 
some principle  in  quiet  gratification,  and  taste  is  no  uncertain  guide  to  truth. 
Our  sympathies  would  soon  lapse  from  pure  exhaustion,  had  we  only  Lady 
Macbeths  and  Othellos  ; and  Shakspeare’s  genuine  humanity  is  no  less 
effectively  displayed  in  his  Violas  and  Mercutios.  Leslie’s  first  successful 
attempt  was  a likeness  of  Cooke,  the  tragedian,  taken  at  the  theatre,  while 
apprentice  to  a Philadelphia  bookseller.  He  soon  copied  admirably,  and 
became,  like  most  of  his  fraternity,  early  occupied  with  portraits.  After 
teaching  drawing  a short  time  at  West  Point,  he  resigned  the  appointment, 
returned  to  England,  and  enjoyed  the  liberal  encouragement  which  no  other 
country  is  so  well  adapted  to  yield  the  kind  of  genius  by  which  he  is  dis- 
tinguished. She  claims  him  as  her  own,  but  although  born  there,  his 
parents  were  American,  and  his  first  lessons  in  art  received  on  this  side  of 
the  water. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  habit  alone  prevents  us  from  recognizing  a 
miracle  every  day.  Were  our  sensibilities  always  keen,  and  our  observa- 
tion ever  aCtive,  the  most  familiar  phenomena  would  excite  wonder.  A 
pampered  taste,  and  feelings  blunted  by  custom  that  “ makes  dotards  of  us 
all,”  rear  the  most  formidable  barrier  between  what  is  really  interesting  and 
the  mind.  It  is  on  this  account  that  writers  continually  seek  in  the  extra- 
ordinary, aliment  for  public  curiosity ; and  for  the  same  reason,  inferior 
artists  often  address  themselves  to  very  odd  or  sublime  themes,  with  a 
view  of  winning  admiration.  Experiment  has  proved,  however,  that  there 
is  a vast  and  but  partially  explored  domain  around  us,  neither  supernatural 
nor  melodramatic,  which  may  be  vividly  illustrated,  if  wisely  used.  Per- 
haps there  is  no  sphere  either  of  art  or  literature  which  yields  such  per- 


i So  American  Artist  Life. 

fectly  healthful  results,  and  which  so  abounds  in  “ human  nature’s  daily 
food.”  The  poet  from  whom  this  phrase  is  quoted  is  an  instance  in  point. 
He  has  succeeded  in  imparting  an  ideal  interest  to  the  common  aspects  of 
Nature.  Some  of  the  British  essayists  achieved  the  same  result  by  their 
clever  treatment  of  social  and  local  traits,  which,  in  themselves,  appeared 
utterly  devoid  of  what  is  called  effeCt  ; and  judicious  readers  welcome  an 
element  so  wholly  free  from  morbid  excitement  and  artificial  appliances. 
In  the  world  of  art  there  also  exists  a kind  of  table-land,  equally  distant 
from  mountain  grandeur  and  flowery  vales,  where  a cheerful  tone  and  quiet 
harmony  refresh  the  senses,  and  gratify,  without  disturbing,  the  heart.  In 
an  age  like  the  present,  those  who  thus  minister  to  the  more  tranquil  plea- 
sures of  imagination  exercise  a benign  vocation.  They  may  not  thrill,  but 
they  often  charm.  Their  labors  create  no  epochs  of  inward  life,  yet  they 
often  cheer  and  solace.  The  lesson  conveyed  may  be  calm,  but  it  is  not 
the  less  refreshing  ; and  the  associations  enkindled,  like  a bland  atmosphere, 
yield  a pastime  none  the  less  desirable,  because  it  is  unmarked  either  by 
tears  or  laughter,  and  is  indicated  only  through  an  unconscious  smile  or. 
placid  reverie. 

We  designate  the  principle  in  view,  when  socially  manifested,  by  such 
humble  epithets  as  agreeable.  As  humor  differs  from  wit,  peace  from  rap- 
ture, satisfaction  from  delight,  the  appropriate  from  the  impressive,  this 
quiet  aim  and  peculiar  grace  is  distinguishable  from  more  exciting  influ- 
ences. As  exhibited  in  painting,  it  is  as  far  removed  from  Dutch  homeli- 
ness as  from  Italian  exaltation,  and  partakes  as  little  of  grotesque  caricature 
as  of  lofty  sentiment.  It  is  domestic,  natural,  unpretending,  yet  true  and 
attractive.  It  is  the  neutral  tint  in  color,  the  undulating  in  movement,  the 
gentle  in  sound,  and  the  pleasant  in  experience,  appealing  not  to  high  vene- 
ration or  deep  love,  but  gratefully  allying  itself  to  ready  and  home-bred 
sympathies.  Of  all  our  painters,  Leslie  excelled  in  this  department.  His 
“Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,”  “ Sancho  Panzaand  the  Duchess,”  “ Sterne  at  the 
Glove  Shop,”  “Anne  Page  and  Master  Slender,”  are  gems  of  their  kind.  He 
w7as  such  a limner  of  manners  as  was  Steele  in  language.  His  subjects  are 
chiefly  drawn  from  life,  not  in  its  extremes,  but  its  refinements.  His  pic- 
tures are  caught  from  family  associations  and  household  literature.  They 
embellish  the  scenes  of  domestic  taste.  He  follows  nature  in  her  choicest 
mood.  To  few  artists  may  be  more  justly  applied  the  term  intellectual. 
His  style  is  elegant,  hi s sentiment  and  humor  delicate,  and  his  strength 
lies  in  the  fine  proof  rather  than  the  massiveness  of  his  arms.  As  a gentle- 
man’s example  raises  the  tone  of  breeding,  Leslie’s  genius  redeems  art  from 
coarseness.  His  women  are  not  heroines,  but  they  are  winsome  and  ac- 
complished. He  distilled  poetry  from  the  common-place,  and  throws  a 
fanciful  charm  around  the  familiar.  He  was  judicious,  penetrating,  and 
graceful,  and  hence  tells  a very  intelligible  anecdote  on  canvas,  in  a simple, 
vet  beautiful  way.  It  is  these  characteristics  that  made  him  so  apt  and 
satisfactory  an  interpreter  of  the  Spectator,  and  Uncle  Toby,  Irving,  and 
the  more'  airy  passages  of  Shakspeare’s  comedy. 


Leslie. 


1 8 1 


Among  the  few  portraits  from  his  pencil  in  this  country,  is  a cabinet 
likeness  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  belonging  to  George  Ticknor,  Esq.,  of  Boston, 
and  one  of  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis,  of  New  York,  executed  fifty  years  ago,  and 
in  the  possession  of  his  family.  A few  months  before  his  death  the  artist 
wrote  this  venerable  friend,  reminding  him  of  those  days  in  London 
when  they  used  to  attend  the  reunions  of  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  and  discuss 
the  merits  of  Cooke,  after  the  play.  Leslie’s  spirited  and  accurate  draw- 
ings of  this  great  adtor,  in  his  best  characters,  were  sketched  in  the  pit  of 
the  Philadelphia  Theatre,  and  sent  to  London  to  be  engraved.  They  first 
called  attention  to  the  young  painter’s  rare  skill  in  expression.  His  picture 
of  “Catharine,  the  Shrew”  belongs  to  Hon.  John  P.  Kennedy,  of  Balti- 
more, Md.  ; that  illustrating  the  passage  in  Macbeth — “And  withered  mur- 
der alarumed  by  his  sentinel,  the  wolf” — belongs  to  the  estate  of  William 
Gilmore,  Esq.,  of  the  same  city ; his  “ Farnese  Plercules,”  “ Musidora,” 
after  West,  his  portraits  of  Lancaster,  of  educational  fame,  of  “Cooke  as 
Richard  III.”  in  water  colors,  and  the  “Murder  of  Rutland  by  Clifford,” 
are  in  the  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  ; “ Touchstone,  Audrey,  and 
the  Clown  ; ” “ Olivia  ” in  Twelfth  Night ; “ Uncle  Toby  and  the  Widow 
Wadman  ; ” a portrait  of  himself,  and  one  of  Henry  C.  Carey,  are  in  the 
possession  of  the  latter  gentleman  at  Philadelphia  ; James  Lenox,  Esq , of 
New  York,  has  his  portrait  of  Washington  Irving,  and  his  pictures  of  “ Oui 
Saviour  teaching  his  Disciples  the  lesson  of  Plumility,”  “ The  Pharisee  and 
the  Publican,”  “ Our  Saviour,”  “Mary  and  Martha,”  “ The  Mother’s  return 
from  a Party,”  and  “ A Mother  and  Child,”  after  Raphael.  His  picture  of 
“ Slender  and  Anne  Page”  belonged  to  Philip  Hone,  Esq.,  of  New  York, 
who  obtained  it  from  the  artist  ; and  another  of  his  Scenes  from  Shake- 
speare was  sold  with  the  Wolfe  Collection  in  that  city,  sent  to  London, 
and,  after  Leslie’s  death,  is  said  to  have  been  disposed  of  for  a thousand 
guineas. 

To  an  American  reader  few  portions  of  Leslie’s  Recollections  and  Cor- 
respondence will  have  a more  speculative  interest  than  those  which  illus- 
trate the  patronage  of  Art  in  England.  The  kind  of  dependence  upon 
noblemen,  habitual  among  first-class  painters,  has  been  regarded  by  many 
of  our  intelligent  countrymen  as  inimical  to  self-respeCt  and  unfavorable  to 
originality.  It  has  been  thought  to  involve  a deference  in  matters  of  taste, 
and  a conformity  to  arbitrary  conditions,  inconsistent  with  the  freedom  of 
genius  and  the  dignity  of  manhood.  The  faCt  that,  in  many  instances, 
aristocratic  hospitality  is  extended  to  the  artist  alone,  while  his  family  are 
ostracized  from  the  circles  where  he  is  a favorite  guest,  has  also  seemed 
irreconcilable  with  our  republican  and  domestic  notions.  That,  in  specific 
instances,  there  is  ground  for  these  prejudices  against  Art-patronage  in 
England, — that  artists  of  distinguished  ability  have  heen  meanly  subser- 
vient to  rank,  and  compromised  the  independence  of  their  vocation  and 
character,  that  “ thrift  might  follow  fawning,” — it  is  useless  to  deny.  But 
there  is  another  and  a better  side  to  this  phase  of  artist-life  in  Great 
Britain,  which  is  one  of  the  most  auspicious  and  creditable  aspects  of  her 


182 


American  Artist  Life. 


social  life.  Elaborate  works  of  art  require  not  only  time,  but  a free  mind 
and  a confident  mood,  for  their  execution  ; — both  of  which  conditions  are 
liable  to  be  forfeited  through  the  limited  means  and  domestic  necessities 
of  the  artist.  Hence  the  most  desirable,  nay,  essential  encouragement  for 
him  is  a liberal  friend,  who,  by  securing  him  ample  remuneration,  enables 
him  to  work  without  anxiety  or  haste,  and  whose  knowledge  of  and  inte- 
rest in  art  make  his  sympathy  not  less  inspiring  than  his  patronage.  There 
are  many  and  beautiful  examples  of  such  a relation  between  the  nobleman 
of  fortune  and  the  painter  of  genius.  Leslie  himself  was  eminently  for- 
tunate in  this  regard.  The  friendship  of  Lord  Egremont,  so  spontaneous 
in  its  origin,  considerate  in  its  manifestation,  and  constant  in  its  exercise, 
is  one  of  the  most  pleasing  episodes  in  the  artist-life  of  Leslie.  Lord 
Egremont’s  first  commission  to  Leslie,  his  generous  offer  when  the  latter 
hesitated  whether  to  abandon  his  vague  prospers  in  England  for  a certain 
but  limited  employment  in  America,  the  annual  visits  of  the  artist  and  his 
family  to  Petworth,  the  facilities  for  study  and  recreation  there  so  unosten- 
tatiously afforded  him,  and  especially  the  warm,  unwavering  sympathy  in 
his  art,  and  interest  in  his  welfare,  which  this  kindly  and  endeared  noble- 
man exhibited,  make  the  record  a charming  exception  to  all  that  is  deroga- 
tory in  patronage  ; for  that  equivocal  term  was  superseded  by  the  more 
genial  relation  of  mutual  respecl,  taste,  confidence,  and  affeCtion.  The 
patronage  was  of  that  rare  kind  which  is  the  offspring  of  appreciation, — 
the  consequence  of  an  affinity  of  mind.  The  love  of  Art  and  her  worthy 
votaries  is,  indeed,  a delightful  trait  of  the  cultivated  and  the  munificent  ; 
it  often  redeems  rank  from  commonplace  and  selfish  associations,  and  ele- 
vates its  possessor  into  a minister  at  the  altar  of  humanity.  It  is  more  or 
less  characteristic  of  the  English  aristocracy.  Lord  Carlisle’s  first  objeCt, 
after  landing  in  Boston,  was  to  find  Allston’s  studio  ; and  Lord  Ellesmere 
signalized  his  visit  to  America  by  liberal  commissions  to  our  best  landscape- 
painters.  No  unprejudiced  reader  of  Leslie’s  Autobiography,  who  is  cogni- 
zant of  the  obstacles  to  success  in  historical  and  genre  painting,  can  fail 
to  realize  how  much  his  talent  was  fostered,  his  taste  improved,  his  labors 
cheered,  and  his  efforts  inspired,  by  the  generous,  intelligent,  and  sympa- 
thetic patronage  he  received  from  royalty,  rank,  and  men  of  fortune.  De- 
void of  this,  at  that  period  and  under  his  circumstances,  it  is  difficult  to 
imagine  how  he  could  have  worked  auspiciously  in  a sphere  so  dependent 
upon  individual  appreciation  and  encouragement.  It  is  not  surprising  that 
he  loved  England  and  felt  at  home  there,  both  as  regards  society,  art,  and 
congenial  influences.  He  lived  to  witness  a surprising  change  in  the 
resources  of  artist-life  ; for  there  is  no  more  striking  fa<5t  in  regard  to  this 
subject  than  the  munificent  patronage  which  the  wealthy  manufacturers  of 
Great  Britain  now  extend  to  Art.  Some  of  the  choicest  works  of  modern 
painters  are  to  be  found  in  Manchester  ; as  if  by  the  law  of  compensation 
the  scene  of  the  most  exclusive  material  labor  should  be  hallowed  by  the 
love  and  presence  of  the  beautiful.  “Almost  every  day,”  writes  Leslie  in 
1851,  “ I hear  of  some  man  of  fortune  whose  name  is  unknown  to  me,  who 


Leslie. 


183 


is  forming  a collection  of  pictures  ; and  they  are  all  either  men  of  business, 
or  men  who  have  retired  from  business  with  a fortune.”  Through  popular 
criticism,  engravings,  local  exhibitions,  and  the  facilities  of  travel,  Art  is 
becoming  more  and  more  a vast  social  interest,  losing  its  exclusive  char- 
acter, and  growing  into  and  out  of  the  economy  and  the  taste  of  modern 
life.  Ere  long  its  lover  and  student  will  not  depend,  as  did  Leslie  at  the 
outset  of  his  career,  upon  private  favor  to  study  masterpieces.  Already 
the  Cartoons  of  Raphael,  the  best  antique  models  and  specimens  of  the 
Venetian,  Roman,  and  Flemish  schools,  are  accessible  to  the  humblest 
seeker  after  truth  and  beauty ; and  the  most  graceful  works  of  the  living 
English  and  Continental  painters  may  be  seen  on  the  walls  of  tradesmen, 
or  in  the  exhibition-rooms  of  New  York  and  London. 

The  alacrity  and  earnestness  with  which  Leslie  cultivated  the  society 
of  those  whom  he  thought  his  superiors  in  mind, — the  habit  of  appre- 
ciating excellence. — in  no  small  degree  account  for  his  progressive  in- 
telligence and  sympathy.  Nor  was  this  entirely  owing  to  his  refined  and 
intellectual  taste,  but  in  a measure  to  the  abeyance  of  self-love  in  his  na- 
ture. He  was  an  aspirant,  not  alone  in  Art,  but  in  character  and  culture. 
He  justly  regarded  the  companionship  of  original  and  accomplished  men 
and  women  as  the  chief  privilege  of  his  life.  Not  too  sensitive  or  com- 
placent to  be  happy  with  those  who,  in  some  quality  or  gift,  excelled  him, 
he  was  receptive  of  the  good  and  tolerant  of  the  objectionable  in  charac- 
ter to  a singular  degree.  Like  his  friend  Allston,  he  was  a “ wide  liker  ; ” 
and  consequently  among  the  first  to  recognize  the  early  triumphs  of  that 
artist.  His  youthful  reminisences  of  Coleridge  give  us  a most  vivid  and 
pleasing  idea  of  that  remarkable  man  in  his  prime.  With  Rogers  he 
enjoyed  constant  and  improving  intercourse.  For  Constable  his  love  and 
admiration  were  deep.  His  visits  to  Newton,  at  the  Insane  Asylum,  are  noted 
with  discrimination  and  feeling,  and  his  written  portrait  of  this  and  many 
other  eminent  friends  betrays  the  the  liberal  as  well  as  sagacious  observer. 
Rare  and  abundant,  indeed,  were  Leslie’s  social  resources.  The  artists 
and  authors,  the  wits  and  heroes  of  his  time,  in  Britain,  have  found  few 
such  appreciative  companions.  Always  his  estimate  of  character  is  tem- 
pered by  humanity,  and  his  chronicle  of  society  chastened  by  taste. 
Many  have  heard  Moore  sing,  Sydney  Smith  joke,  Coleridge  improvise, 
Rogers  tell  anecdotes,  Irving  indulge  his  humorous  vein,  and  Wilkie, 
Turner,  Haydon,  Landseer,  Fuseli,  and  Stothardt  talk  about  Art;  but  no 
one  has  done  more  catholic  justice  to  them  all,  as  men,  than  Leslie.  He 
reached  a high  point  of  independence  in  his  judgment,  and  seems  to 
praise  negleCted  merit  with  the  emphasis  of  conviction.  He  did  not,  like 
the  mass,  “see  with  ears,”  nor  wait  for  fame  to  canonize  what  he  felt  to  be 
intrinsically  great.  Although  a social  epicure,  he  was  impatient  of  fault- 
finders. He  could  relish  a bon  mot  as  well  as  a felicitous  tint,  and  delight 
in  the  picturesque  in  character  as  well  as  in  costume.  He  reverts  to  his 
early  struggles  with  the  same  manly  candor  with  which  he  alludes  to  his 
prosperous  days  ; and  the  contrast  between  the  time  when  he  economized 


184 


American  Artist  Life . 

letter-postage,  and  waited  weeks  for  his  turn  to  read  the  new  poem  from 
the  library,  and  that  when  he  was  the  favored  guest  at  Petworth,  lunched 
at  Windsor,  and  dined  at  Holland  House,  never  seems  to  have  unduly 
depressed  or  elated  one  whose  “blood  and  judgment  were  so  well  com- 
mingled.” He  named  a son  for  his  earliest  friend, — the  Philadelphia 
bookseller  who  furnished  the  means  for  his  visit  and  studies  in  England  : 
his  affectionate  interest  in  his  kindred  never  abated  ; his  friendships  were 
long  and  loyal ; and,  if  his  eyes  grew  dim  with  tears  to  see  the  young 
Oueen  partake  of  the  holy  communion,  the  same  sensibility  was  exhibited 
in  practical  kindness  towards  impoverished  talent  or  humble  worth. 

To  a generous  lover  of  beauty,  one  in  whom  the  aesthetic  element  is 
pervasive,  there  is  something  almost  frivolous  in  the  extreme  opinions  that 
exist  in  regard  to  Art.  It  seems  incompatible  with  an  earnest  sensibility 
to  and  appreciation  of  the  world  of  interest  which  that  term,  in  its  broad 
acceptation,  signifies,  that  any  school  should  be  utterly  repudiated,  or  that 
any  diversity  of  taste  should  lead  to  differences  and  controversies  almost 
fanatical.  Plow  absurd,  in  the  retrospect,  appear  the  violent  discussions 
which  alienated  artists  from  one  another,  to  the  extent  of  becoming  actual 
enemies,  when  the  fierce  contest  reigned  in  France  between  the  votaries 
of  the  Romantic  and  Classic  schools.  And  now  what  perversity  in  Rus- 
kin  and  his  disciples  to  decry  the  old  masters  in  the  same  degree  that  they 
exalt  certain  modern  painters,  and  carry  the  “return  to  nature,”  which  is 
the  desirable  principle  of  Pre-Raphaelitism,  to  the  extent  of  pedantic 
puerility  ! A catholic  taste  in  Art  embraces  all  kinds,  forms,  and  schools 
wherein  there  is  anything  genuine  ; and  a liberal  mind  of  ideal  aptitude 
can  find  somewhat  in  sacred,  historical,  Italian,  Flemish,  Spanish,  French, 
English,  American,  and  German  pictures  to  delight  in  and  admire,  when- 
ever either  is  informed  by  truth,  genius,  sentiment,  grace,  beauty,  or  tech- 
nical skill.  The  limitations  of  the  English  school  are  self-evident.  The 
life  of  a London  artist  is  essentially  different  from  that  of  one  whose  home 
is  at  Dusseldorf  or  Rome.  Each  place  and  style  has  its  advantages  and 
its  drawbacks  ; we  find  no  obstacle  in  recognizing  them  all,  though,  of 
course,  there  must  be  strong  preferences.  With  all  its  niceties  of  execu- 
tion, household  sentiment,  refined  and  pleasing  influences,  the  school  of 
pidtorial  art  which  Leslie  illustrated,  the  system  under  which  he  studied 
and  prospered,  lack  scope,  earnestness  and  glow,  wide  relations,  and  high 
significance.  His  deference  for  and  reliance  on  the  Royal  Academy,  and 
indifference  to  many  spheres  and  phases  of  artistic  interest  and  know- 
ledge, are  results  of  that  conventional  dogmatism  and  routine  which  more 
or  less  invade  and  narrow  human  development  in  England.  It  is  for  what 
he  did  excel  in,  for  the  manner  in  which  he  worked  out  the  truth  and  the 
cjuality  that  he  grasped,  both  in  art  and  charadter,  that  we  honor  Leslie, 
and  deem  his  example  valuable  and  his  life  attradlive.  In  exhibiting  the 
literary  affinities  of  Art  in  their  more  delicate  manifestations,  his  genius 
was  peculiar  ; his  social  and  professional  obligations  to  authors  were  re- 
markable, and  suggest  vast  possibilities  in  that  direction.  The  truth  is, 


Leslie. 


185 

his  relish  of  character  was  dramatic  ; Murray’s  shop  and  Sterne’s  Calais 
hotel  had  attractions  for  him  almost  equal  to  a piCture-gallery.  His  ideal 
of  Art  and  life  was  modified  by  the  English  standard  of  respectability. 
He  loved  the  beautiful  in  minute  and  casual,  rather  than  in  grand  and 
abstract  forms  ; and  the  single  flower  he  delighted  to  put  in  a glass  every 
morning  to  brighten  his  studio,  his  fastidious  taste  in  companionship,  his 
habit  of  noting  his  social  experience,  his  provident,  harmonious,  and  well- 
ordered  life,  are  in  striking  contrast  with  the  vagaries  of  German  and  the 
ardor  of  Italian  painters.  His  patient,  unimpassioned  temperament  and 
well-balanced  mind  suggest  altogether  a different  being  from  those  Vasari 
has  chronicled,  or  such  as  are  met  at  an  Ostia  picnic  or  sketching  on  the 
Rhine  ; and  equally  diverse  from  theirs  are  his  productions,  refined  ex- 
pression, finish,  and  taste,  far  exceeding  creative  and  ideal  power,  or  pro- 
found sentiment. 

“ The  interest  with  which  the  pursuit  of  art  has  always  been  invested, 
to  my  mind,  became  unusually  vivid,  as  I passed  rapidly,  one, April-like 
morning,  along  the  Edgeware  road,  toward  the  domicil  of  Leslie,  for 
whom  I had  been  intrusted  with  a missive  from  one  of  his  dearest  rela- 
tives at  home.  As  the  cab  rattled  by  many  an  old  dwelling  with  ivy 
twined  about  its  base,  and  through  lines  of  teams  and  butchers’  carts,  I 
could  not  but  acknowledge  once  more  the  force  of  that  instinCt  which,  in 
the  midst  of  so  much  bustle,  and  in  the  heart  of  such  material  life,  can 
bind  a man  to  his  easel,  and  concentrate  his  mind  upon  the  worship  of 
beauty,  while  all  around  him  swells  the  vast  tide  of  conventional  affairs. 
We  drew  up,  at  length,  in  the  region  called  St.  John’s  park,  before  a 
modern  house  with  a villa-like  entrance,  and,  in  a few  moments,  I was 
cordially  welcomed  to  the  studio  of  Leslie.  He  was  engaged  upon  a 
picture  that  struck  me  as  remarkably  adapted  to  his  genius  ; the  subject: 
is  the  festive  scene  so  minutely  described  in  the  £ Rape  of  the  Lock.’  I 
wondered  so  fertile  a theme  had  never  before  seized  upon  the  fancy  of  a 
painter,  and  felt,  as  1 gazed,  that  it  was  fortunately  reserved  for  the  grace- 
ful delineator  of  ‘ Slender  and  Anne  Page,’  1 Victoria’s  Coronation,’  and 
so  many  other  gems  of  the  same  description.  The  consummate  tact  with 
which  such  an  array  of  figures  was  grouped  on  the  canvas — all  of  cabi- 
net size — the  variety  of  expression  and  costume,  and  the  compaCt  signifi- 
cance and  authenticity  of  the  whole,  not  only  as  an  illustration  of  Pope’s 
conception,  but  of  the  age  it  embodies,  assured  me  that  it  would  prove  a 
felicitous  masterpiece.  I have  never  seen  a picture  of  Leslie’s  so  radiant 
and,  at  the  same  time,  well  toned  ; as  a study  of  color,  as  well  as  social 
life,  it  was  exquisite  ; and  the  figure  and  face  of  Belinda  were  all  imagina- 
tion could  desire  ; not  a trait  was  overlooked,  not  a charm  negleCted  ; and 
I saw,  with  delight,  that — 

‘ On  her  white  breast  a sparkling  cross  she  wore, 

That  Jews  might  kiss  and  infidels  adore.’ 

Leslie  threw  open  the  window  just  as  a gleam  of  sunshine  fell  on  the 


1 86  American  Artist  Life. 

distant  hills,  lightly  veiled  with  pearly  mist,  over  which  it  is  his  custom  to 
wander  on  summer  mornings,  and  designated  the  church-spire  in  whose 
shadow  Constable  is  buried.  The  landscape  was  thoroughly  English.  I 
had  lately  perused  the  beautiful  letters,  and  not  less  beautiful  life  of  Consta- 
ble written  by  Leslie,  and  now  listened  with  peculiar  satisfaction  to  his 
glowing  description  and  his  tender  regrets  as  he  spoke  of  his  friend.  No 
other  painter  so  truly  caught  the  vernal  life  and  living  clouds  such  as,  at 
this  moment,  expanded  to  our  vision  ; and  I blessed  the  poetic  justice 
which  thus  located  his  sepulchre  amid  the  scenes  he  loved  to  depiCt,  and 
within  the  habitual  ken  of  his  brother-artist.  I had  often  traced  the 
analogy  that  exists  between  the  individual  phases  of  genius  as  exhibited 
in  literature  and  art ; and  now  again  realized  the  intimate  relation  be- 
tween the  English  humorists  and  such  painters  as  Newton  and  Leslie  ; 
the  sympathy  the  latter  manifested  in  his  inquiries  about  Irving  confirmed 
the  idea.  Their  artistic  spheres  are  essentially  alike  ; they  both  have 
charmed  ,the  world  with  the  most  genial  and  effective  cabinet  pictures, 
drawn  from  the  more  refined  aspects  of  life,  and  finished  to  the  highest 
point  of  grace  and  harmony.”  * 


* From  the  Author’s  “ Month  in  England.” 


DURAND. 


HOEVER  has  sailed  across  one  of  our  immense  lakes — the 
inland  seas  of  this  vast  continent — at  the  close  of  a day 
when  summer  was  verging  into  autumn,  and  the  keen  wind 
swept  over  the  broad  waters  as  they  glowed  with  crimson 
or  saffron  in  the  magnificent  sunset,  cannot  easily  forget  a 
scene  unequalled  in  any  part  of  the  world.  The  expanse  of 
water  spreading  to  the  horizon  seems  kindled  into  transparency  by  the 
warm  and  deepening  hues  as  they  flash  unobstructed  upon  the  waves  ; as 
twilight  comes  on,  the  view  grows  sublime,  and  when  the  vivid  tints  gradu- 
ally vanish  in  darkness,  a deep  and  almost  sacred  impression  is  left  upon 
the  mind.  Durand  gives,  in  one  of  his  landscapes  called  a “ Lake  Scene,” 
a remarkably  happy  idea  of  a prospebl  like  this.  We  know  not  where  his 
view  is  located,  but  if  we  had  encountered  it  in  any  gallery  abroad,  we  should 
have  instantly  recognized  one  of  the  most  characteristic  phases  of  nature 
in  America.  It  is  in  musing  upon  subjects  of  this  kind — upon  the  remark- 
able natural  features  of  our  native  land — that  we  realize  what  a grand  field 
is  here  presented  to  the  landscape-painter,  and  a feeling  of  impatience  steals 
over  us  that  comparatively  so  little  has  been  accomplished.  The  inferio- 
rity of  the  old  masters  in  this  department  of  art  is  generally  acknowledged. 
While  Claude’s  skies,  and  the  dexterous  management  of  Salvator’s  pictures 
continue  to  retain  the  admiration  they  have  ever  excited,  numerous  modern 
artists  are  distinguished  by  a feeling  for  nature  which  has  made  landscape, 
instead  of  of  mere  imitation,  a vehicle  of  great  moral  impressions.  As 
modern  poets  have  struck  latent  chords  in  the  heart  from  a deeper  sym- 
pathy with  humanity,  recent  limners  have  depicted  scenes  of  natural  beauty, 
not  so  much  in  the  spirit  of  copyists  as  in  that  of  lovers  and  worshippers  ; 
and  accordingly,  however,  unsurpassed  the  older  painters  are  in  historical, 
they  are  now  confessedly  outvied  in  landscape.  And  where  should  this 
kind  of  painting  advance,  if  not  in  this  country  ? Our  scenery  is  the  great 
object  which  attracts  foreign  tourists  to  our  shores.  No  blind  adherence 
to  authority  here  checks  the  hand  or  chills  the  heart  of  the  artist.  It  is 
only  requisite  to  possess  the  technical  skill,  to  be  versed  in  the  alphabet  of 
painting,  and  then,  under  the  inspiration  of  a genuine  love  of  nature  “to 
hold  communion  with  her  visible  forms,”  in  order  to  achieve  signal  triumphs 


i S3 


American  Artist  Life. 


in  landscape,  from  the  varied  material  so  lavishly  displayed  in  our  moun- 
tains, rivers,  lakes,  and  forests — each  possessing  characteristic  traits  of 
beauty,  and  all  cast  in  a grander  mould,  and  wearing  a fresher  aspect  than 
in  any  other  civilized  land.  Among  those  who  have  turned  their  attention 
in  the  right  spirit  to  this  subject,  and  given  happy  illustrations  of  its  fertility, 
Durand  occupies  a prominent  rank. 

Asher  Brown  Durand  was  born  in  Jefferson,  New  Jersey,  August  21, 
1796.  No  class  of  early  emigrants  to  America  brought  with  them,  or  more 
sturdily  maintained,  the  probity,  frugal  habits,  and  enlightened  industry 
which  are  the  basis  of  civic  virtue,  than  the  Huguenots  ; from  the  religious 
artisan  to  the  consistent  statesman,  their  character  exerted  a wide  and 
auspicious  influence  upon  colonial  manners,  well  illustrated  in  the  pure 
reCtitude  and  self-respeCt  which  endear  the  memory  of  John  Jay.  The 
ancestors  of  Durand  were  among  the  French  protestants,  who  found  a re- 
fuge in  the  United  States  after  the  repeal  of  the  EdiCt  of  Nantes.  His 
father  was  a watchmaker,  and  in  his  shop  the  future  artist  learned  to  cut 
cyphers  on  spoons,  whence  the  transition  to  engraving  was,  with  his  artistic 
aptitudes,  a natural  process.  While  a boy  he  exhibited  a love  of  trees,  and 
acquired  practice  in  drawing  foliage.  HI  is  first  attempts  in  the  execution 
of  prints  were  made  on  plates  hammered  out  of  copper  coins,  and  with  in- 
struments of  his  own  invention.  A French  gentleman  was  so  much  im- 
pressed with  his  skill  that  he  commissioned  him  to  copy,  in  this  primitive 
style,  a portrait  on  the  lid  of  a snuff-box  ; and  his  success  in  this  experi- 
ment determined  him  to  adopt  the  profession  of  an  engraver.  In  1812  he 
became  an  apprentice  to  Peter  Maverick,  one  of  the  few  adepts  in  the  art 
at  that  period  among  us  ; and  in  1817  Durand  was  his  partner.  His  first 
extensive  work  was  the  long  celebrated  engraving  of  Trumbull’s  “ Declara- 
tion of  Independence  this  established  his  reputation,  and  led  to  his  con- 
stant employment ; he  was  soon  after  engaged  upon  the  National  Portrait 
Gallery,  engraving  fine  heads  of  Jay,  Decatur,  Marshall,  Jackson,  Cass, 
Kent,  Clinton,  and  Adams  ; “ Musidora,”  and  Vanderlyn’s  “ Ariadne,”  in- 
creased and  confirmed  his  fame  as  a master  of  the  burin.  Greenough 
handed  the  latter  print  around  in  a conclave  of  foreign  artists  at  a cafe  in 
Florence,  and  with  difficulty  persuaded  them  of  its  American  origin,  so 
greatly  were  they  all  impressed  with  its  mature  skill.  After  ten  years  of 
prosperous  labor  upon  small  figures  and  portraits,  Durand,  partly  through 
the  liberal  encouragement  of  his  friend,  Luman  Reed,  in  1835  abandoned 
engraving  for  portrait  and  landscape-painting;  among  his  early  portraits 
in  oil  are  the  heads  of  Kent,  Jackson,  Bryant,  and  Governeur  Kemble  : for 
landscape  art  he  had  always  cherished  a fondness,  having  its  source  in  the 
earnest  love  of  nature  which  has  ever  characterized  his  works.  The 
honesty  of  his  purpose  and  fidelity  of  his  habits,  increased  by  so  long  a 
practice  in  the  imitation  and  minute  labors  of  an  engraver,  were  carried 
into  his  new  vocation  ; and  with  these  technical  facilities,  a scope  and  senti- 
ment which  redeemed  them  from  mere  mechanical  excellence  ; elaborated 
with  care,  they  were  not  less  idylic  in  spirit  than  faithful  in  detail.  At  first 


Durand. 


189 

he  inclined  to  figure  pieces,  of  which  “ Harvey  Birch  and  Washington,” 
“The  Capture  of  Andre,”  “ The  Dance  on  the  Battery,”  and  “The  Wrath 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,”  became  widely  familiar  through  popular  engravings, 
executed  or  finished  by  himself ; the  latest  of  these  joint  productions  of  the 
two  arts  he  practiced,  was  the  admiral  portrait  of  Bryant,  engraved  under 
his  supervision,  and  the  finishing  touches  bestowed  by  his  own  hand.  But 
the  full  power  of  his  taste  and  talent,  and  especially  his  feeling  for  nature 
found  memorable  expression  in  a series  of  American  Landscapes,  some  of 
which  have  an  allegorical  as  well  as  intrinsic  significance  : — such  as  the 
“ Morning  and  Evening  of  Life,”  and  “ Kindred  Spirits  ” — the  last  a gorge 
and  rocky  plateau  of  the  Catskills,  whereon  Bryant  and  Cole  are  represent- 
ed as  standing  in  rapt  survey  of  the  glorious  Forest  Scenes.  Lake  Scenes, 
The  Franconia  Mountains,  Wood  Scenes,  our  Primeval  Forest,  Sunset, 
The  Rainbow,  Sunday  Morning,  The  Catskills  from  Plillsdale,  and  other 
similar  subjects  illustrated,  year  by  year,  the  growing  beauty  of  his  concep- 
tions, and  his  devoted  study  of  our  native  scenery.  In  pastoral  landscape 
his  fame  was  early  achieved.  Among  many  other  pictures  which  remain 
sweetly  impressed  upon  our  recollection,  there  is  one  representing  a sum- 
mer tempest.  Whoever  has  watched  the  advent  and  discharge  of  a thunder 
cloud,  in  summer,  among  the  White  Mountains  or  the  Hudson  Highlands, 
will  appreciate  the  perfeCt  truth  to  nature,  in  the  impending  shadow  of  the 
portentous  mass  of  vapor,  as  it  falls  on  tree,  rock,  sward,  and  stream  ; and 
the  contrasted  brilliancy  of  the  sunshine  playing  on  the  high  ridge  above  ; 
the  strata  of  the  latter,  as  well  as  the  foliage  and  foreground  of  the  whole 
landscape,  are  thoroughly  and  minutely  American  in  their  character.  This 
we  have  long  been  accustomed  to  note  and  to  admire  in  Durand  ; but  sel- 
dom has  he  gone  so  near  the  atmospheric  peculiarities  of  his  native  land. 
We  can  hear  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  before  the  pattering  of  the  shower, 
scent  the  loamy  breath  of  the  earth,  and  feel  the  exhausted  air  that  pre- 
cedes the  lightning,  and  quells  nervous  organizations.  It  is  a masterly 
work  ; in  breadth,  freedom,  and  vital  truth,  equal  to  the  artist’s  best  efforts. 
He  has  the  greatest  feeling  for  Nature  ; others  may  have  as  good  an  eye 
and  as  skilful  a touch,  but  for  the  sentiment,  there  are  few  like  Durand. 
His  affinity  with  nature  is  akin  to  that  of  Wordsworth  and  Bryant;  and 
with  his  usual  practical  sympathy,  he  has  made  this  scene,  caught  fresh 
and  true  from  an  evanescent  phase  of  nature,  illustrate  Goldsmith’s  favorite 
metaphor  of  the  “tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form.” 

Another  of  these  remembered  treasures  is  a group  of  forest  trees,  stand- 
ing in  their  individuality,  and  unassisted  by  any  of  those  devices  which  are 
usually  introduced  to  set  off  so  exclusive  a theme.  Only  the  great  skill  and 
truth  of  their  execution  would  atone  for  the  paucity  of  objeCts  in  such  <t 
landscape.  Yet,  so  characteristic  is  each  tree,  so  natural  the  bark  and 
foliage,  so  graphic  the  combination  and  foreground,  that  the  senses  and  the 
mind  are  filled  and  satisfied  with  this  purely  sylvan  landscape.  Mark  the 
spreading  boughs  of  that  black  birch,  the  gnarled  trunk  of  this  oak,  the 
tufts  on  yonder  pine,  the  drooping  sprays  of  the  hemlock,  and  the  relief 


American  Artist  Life. 


190 

of  the  dead  tree — is  it  not  exactly  such  a woodland  nook  as  you  have  often 
observed  in  a tramp  through  the  woods  ? Not  a leaf  or  flower  on  the 
ground,  not  an  opening  in  the  umbrageous  canopy,  not  a mouldering  stump 
beside  the  pool,  but  looks  like  an  old  friend  ; it  is  a fragment  of  the  most 
peculiar  garniture  that  decks  the  uncleared  land  of  this  continent.  In  an 
English  gallery  it  would  proclaim  America.  How  Evelyn,  Michaux,  or 
Audubon,  would  hail  it  with  loving  eyes  ! Its  unexaggerated,  simple,  yet 
profoundly  true  expression,  shows  how  the  genuine  artist  can  effect  won- 
ders without  adventitious  means.  In  another  painter’s  hands  it  would 
prove  but  a sketch  ; in  Durand’s  it  becomes  a landscape  ; and  one  of  the 
most  fresh  and  vigorous  he  has  ever  made.  Not  less  remarkable,  although 
in  a diverse  way,  is  the  view  of  mountains  and  a lake  during  or  just  before 
a summer  storm.  The  deep  shadow  that  is  cast  by  the  black  cloud,  while 
it  falls  opaquely  over  a portion  of  the  scene,  is  diversified  by  a faint,  tremu- 
lous light  in  the  lap  of  the  hills,  while  farther  off  hangs  a bluish  mist — the 
effeCl  of  partial  sunshine  and  a patch  or  two  of  blue  sky  ; many  a time 
have  we  witnessed  such  a magical  result  of  dense,  overhanging  vapor  sud- 
denly casting  a pall  over  the  Hudson,  on  a bright  summer  day  ; the  tran- 
sient character  of  the  elemental  phenomena  renders  their  successful  trans- 
fer to  canvas  more  impressive  ; we  seem  to  behold  the  change  itself,  instead 
of  a moment  of  its  process  ; the  details  of  the  landscape  are  faithful,  and 
the  transition  wrought  by  the  gust  is  at  the  same  time  caught  and  fixed. 
In  these  pictures,  two  of  the  most  difficult  points  in  landscape-painting  are 
accomplished  ; the  trees  look  real,  and  the  chiaro-oscuro  of  nature  is 
reflected  ; the  evanescent  is  stayed  by  the  limner  ; a rare  observation  and 
a poetic  sense  have  garnered  from  the  picturesque  its  most  effective  traits. 
A work  of  singularly  pleasant  associations  as  well  as  of  characteristic 
beauty,  not  long  since  received  the  final  touches  of  this  artist’s  pencil. 
Two  or  more  years  ago  an  English  gentleman,  Mr.  Graham,  left  the  sum 
of  five  thousand  dollars  to  establish  a school  of  design  in  Brooklyn,  L.  I. 
A part  of  the  interest,  it  was  provided,  should  be  expended  annually  for 
the  purchase  of  a picture  by  an  American  artist,  and  thus  a gallery  insti- 
tuted. Mr.  Durand  was  applied  to,  and,  in  order  to  recognize  this  admi- 
rable precedent  for  the  improvement  of  local  taste,  and  the  encouragement 
of  native  art,  he  cheerfully  agreed  to  execute  a large  work  for  the  Associa- 
tion at  a price  merely  nominal  in  comparison  with  the  usual  remuneration 
and  aCtual  market  value  of  his  landscapes.  His  sympathy  with  the  objeCt 
is  manifest  in  the  elaborate  care  and  graceful  feeling  exhibited  in  this 
beautiful  scene.  In  the  back-ground  rise  mountains,  whose  American 
character  is  evident  both  in  the  shape  of  their  summits,  and  the  tints  that 
clothe  the  most  distant  in  blue  mist,  and  the  nearer  in  clear  day-beams 
falling  on  umbrageous  declivities  ; a stream  brawls  in  the  foreground,  and, 
amid  the  rough  timbers  of  a clearing,  is  a settler’s  log-hut,  approached  by 
a rude  path,  near  which  runs  one  of  those  primitive  boundaries  called  a 
snake-fence  ; between  the  woods  and  the  domicil  a large  field  of  ripe  grain 
lifts  its  mellow  and  waving  tufts  to  the  sunshine,  and,  at  its  edge,  stands 


Durand. 


191 

the  mower,  about  to  swing  his  sickle  through  the  golden  ranks.  The  details 
of  the  pidlure  are  worthy  of  its  genial  conception  ; bark,  moss,  stone,  leaf, 
spire  of  herbage,  and  hue  of  cloud,  wear  a genuine  look  ; the  ridges  of  the 
hills  recall  the  White  Mountains  ; the  trees  are  indisputably  those  of  an 
American  forest,  and  over  all  broods  the  modified  glow  of  the  ripened 
summer.  This  landscape  rejoices  in  the  felicitous  name  of  “ The  First 
Harvest,”  applicable  both  to  the  scene  itself  and  the  circumstance  that  it 
initiates  the  national  collection  of  a judicious  benefactor  of  art,  whose 
name  the  painter  has  fully  inscribed  on  one  of  the  rocks  in  the  fore- 
ground. 

Engraving  is  said  to  have  originated  with  the  goldsmiths,  who,  in  trac- 
ing designs  upon  their  wares,  unconsciously  suggested  the  method  of 
reproducing  pictures,  which  has  since  been  carried  to  such  marvellous  per- 
fection. We  readily  understand,  therefore,  how  natural  was  Durand’s  ini- 
tiation as  an  artist,  when  informed  that  his  father  was  a watchmaker.  Cel- 
lini inscribed  many  an  exquisite  chalice  with  the  same  hand  that  moulded 
the  Perseus  ; and  if  facility  in  mechanical  processes. and  a gradual  progress 
from  the  humble  to  the  lofty  spheres  of  art  be  a desirable  education  for  a 
painter,  the  early  circumstances  of  Durand  formed  no  inadequate  basis  for 
his  ultimate  success.  It  is  a favorite  notion  that  great  results  are  best 
attained  by  what  is  vaguely  called  inspiration,  and  in  many  minds  genius 
and  industry  are  antagonist  principles.  The  history  of  art  proves  that 
the  highest  endowments  are  unavailing  unless  sustained  by  proportionate 
acquirements.  It  is  interesting  to  trace  the  gradual  advancement  of 
Durand  by  virtue  of  patient  study.  There  is  a moral  as  well  as  an  intel- 
lectual element  in  every  artist,  and  that  of  Durand  is  integrity  of  purpose. 
He  has  been  a thoroughly  conscientious  workman,  constantly  seeking 
through  experiment  to  reach  the  highest  attainable  point  of  practical  skill. 
He  never  received  any  regular  instruction  in  drawing,  although  at  a very 
early  age  he  scratched  some  clever  devices  on  a powder-horn  ; but  when 
the  engraver  to  whom  he  was  apprenticed,  first  placed  a small  head  before 
him  to  copy,  he  accomplished  the  task  altogether  through  imitation,  and 
without  any  knowledge  of  rules.  His  effeCts  have  been  produced  through 
repeated  attempts  rather  than  from  theoretical  ability.  His  natural  percep- 
tions clearly  enough  made  known  to  him  what  was  to  be  done,  but  no  aca- 
demical studies  revealed  the  shortest  way  to  accomplish  the  end  in  view. 
Observation  and  perseverance  have  been  his  best  teachers.  We  cannot 
but  recognize  a noble  patience  in  such  a career.  Thus  it  is  that  many  of 
our  renowned  men  in  letters  and  art  have  wrought  their  way  to  fame,  un- 
aided by  public  culture  or  tasteful  sympathy  ; and  it  argues  a truth  of 
character  to  triumph  over  difficulties  by  mere  force  of  purpose,  seldom 
called  for  under  the  agency  of  European  institutions.  Durand  obtained 
the  mastery  of  details  and  assiduous  habits  as  an  engraver,  and  after 
bearing  away  the  palm  of  the  art  in  this  country,  became  distinguished  as 
a landscape  painter — thus  reversing  the  course  usual  with  our  artists,  who 
generally  launch  into  the  mysteries  before  they  understand  the  elements 


ig2 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  their  profession.  Durand  was  probably  best  known  by  his  engraving 
of  Trumbull’s  “Declaration  of  Independence.”  A higher  interest  seems 
to  us  to  attach  to  his  first  serious  effort,  which  was  “ Musidora.”  Un- 
fortunately, the  plate  was  nearly  worn  out  by  frequent  correction,  and  but 
few  effective  impressions  are  in  existence.  They  suffice,  however,  to 
herald  very  significantly  Durand’s  after-reputation.  His  objedl  was  to 
represent  a nude  female  figure,  modest  in  feeling,  and  simple  in  design. 
For  this  purpose  he  selected  for  illustration  the  lines  from  Thompson’s 
Seasons, — 


“ with  timid  eye, 

Around  surveying,  stripped  her  beauteous  limbs 
To  taste  the  lucid  coolness  of  the  flood.” 


The  happy  manner  which  charms  us  in  some  of  the  engravings  that  em- 
bellish English  works  of  standard  literature,  published  half  a century  ago, 
is  visible  in  this  conception.  The  artist  finds  some  inaccuracies  in  the 
drawing,  but  he  has  cause  still  to  regard  with  complacency  so  sweet  a 
product  of  the  burin.  He  has  caught  the  gracefulness  of  the  poet’s  con- 
ception, and  exhibited  the  peculiar  flesh-like  effect  for  which  his  best 
engravings  are  so  justly  celebrated.  We  doubt  if  he  felt  quite  as  con- 
tented over  his  bank-note  plates  after  having  produced  so  artistic  a work 
— for,  although  he  was  employed  for  years  in  copying  portraits,  especially 
those  for  Longacre’s  “ National  Gallery,”  we  soon  find  him  in  Virginia, 
transferring  to  the  canvas  the  venerable  features  of  Madison,  and  gradually 
abandoning  portrait  for  landscape.  Indeed,  the  confined  position  inci- 
dent to  the  life  of  an  engraver,  weakened  too  much  a constitution  never 
robust,  and  the  free  air  which  he  breathed  while  exploring  scenery,  had 
become  as  requisite  for  health  as  a wider  range  for  his  mental  develop- 
ment. Before  abandoning  his  early  sphere  of  labor,  however,  he  placed 
the  seal  to  his  merit  in  that  department  by  his  admirable  engraving  of 
Vanderlyn’s  “Ariadne.”  It  has  been  said  that  an  engraver  is  to  a painter 
what  a translator  is  to  an  author.  The  inference  is  obvious  that  the 
original,  especially  if  an  ideal  work,  can  never  be  worthily  reproduced, 
unless  its  spirit  is  felt  and  its  conception  realized  by  him  who  would  trans- 
late into  a form  for  general  circulation  what  could  otherwise  be  only  par- 
tially enjoyed.  These  exacting  conditions  were  amply  fulfilled  in  the 
present  instance,  and,  as  a natural  consequence,  no  work  of  the  kind  is 
more  justly  celebrated. 

Perhaps  we  cannot  more  appropriately  close  this  notice  than  with  the 
following  sketch  of  a visit  to  his  rooms  some  years  since  : 

Those  fine  old  Roman  heads  ! — who  can  forget  them  ? For  years  have 
their  possessors  lived  as  models,  drawing  a more  certain  subsistence  from 
the  outside  of  their  craniums  than  most  authors  do  from  their  brains. 
The  thick  locks  of  “sable  silver,”  the  white  flowing  beards,  the  strongly 
marked  sun-burnt  faces  and  keen  eyes — how  venerable  and  prophet-like  ! 
What  an  absurd  profession  is  that  of  a barber  ? The  man  who  first  pro- 


Durand. 


193 


posed  clipping  and  shaving  had  no  sense  of  the  beautiful.  Look  at  that 
handsome  brigand— how  his  embrowned  visage  is  set  off  by  the  full,  curv- 
ing moustache  ! Razors  are  a vile  invention.  Not  satisfied  with  arraying 
man  in  a way  the  best  calculated  to  make  him  appear  ridiculous,  deprived 
of  every  thing  like  a becoming  costume,  to  the  deformities  of  tail-coat  and 
round  hat,  there  must  needs  be  added  a gratuitous  curtailment  of  “ na- 
ture’s fair  proportions.”  We  are  infinitely  obliged  to  artists  for  preserv- 
ing such  semblances  of  primitive,  or,  if  you  please,  uncivilized  humanity. 
But  we  are  forgetting:  Durand — one  of  those  men  who  are  living:  illustra- 
tions  of  the  saying  that  “ modesty  and  merit  always  go  together.”  His 
landscapes  are  faultless.  Scan  ever  so  minutely  that  view  of  the  Lake  of 
Geneva,  and  it  seems  the  mirror  of  reality.  How  perfect  the  aerial  per- 
spective ! There  is  a singular  tone  about  the  atmosphere  of  the  Swiss 
mountains.  Allston  has  caught  it  in  his  “Alpine  Scenery.”  It  gives  the 
idea  of  the  neighborhood  of  snow,  as  the  peculiar  blue  of  the  water  indi- 
cates its  birth  from  the  melted  ice  of  the  hills.  In  this  picture  Durand 
has,  with  rare  fidelity,  represented  this  local  characteristic.  It  is  sufficient 
of  itself  to  identify  the  scene.  In  his  late  visit  to  Europe,  this  unpre- 
tending; and  skilful  artist  has  communed  with  the  old  masters,  to  g;ood 
effect.  Observe  that  girl  with  the  parrot.  Every  detail  is  finished  with  a 
marvellous  exactitude.  It  is  perfectly  Titian-like  ! What  clearly-defined 
eyes,  and  yet  how  liquid  ! What  round,  palpable  flesh  ! The  complacent 
freshness  of  the  south  broods  over  every  feature,  and  glows  in  the  sunny 
hair. 

There  is  great  individuality  in  Durand’s  trees.  This  is  a very  desira- 
ble characteristic  for  an  artist  who  deals  with  American  scenery.  No 
country  boasts  more  glorious  sylvan  monarchs  ; and  not  only  in  the  shape 
and  hue  of  the  foliage,  the  position  of  the  branches,  and  the  indentation 
of  the  trunks,  do  they  offer  peculiar  features,  but  each  genus  presents 
novel  specimens  eminently  worthy  of  accurate  portraiture.  Some  of  the 
noblest  elms  in  the  world  grace  the  villages  of  New  England.  The 
scarlet  color  of  the  maple  in  autumn  is  as  brilliant  a tint  as  the  vegetable 
creation  anywhere  possesses.  Here  majestic  willows  turn  their  silver 
lining  upward  in  the  swaying  breeze,  and  there  the  vivid  emerald  of  the 
oak  glistens  in  the  sun.  The  delicate  white  blossom  of  the  locust  and 
the  orange-berries  of  the  ash  float  on  a sea  of  verdure,  and  the  firs  on 
the  mountain-side  hold  the  snows  in  their  evergreen  boughs.  A rich 
variety  of  magnificent  forest  trees  have  survived  the  demolition  of  the 
wilderness,  and  their  felicitous  introduction  constitutes  one  of  the  most 
effective  points  in  American  landscape.  One  of  Durand’s  recent  pictures 
is  admirable  in  this  regard.  In  the  foreground  are  two  noble  trees,  a 
beech  and  a linden — the  latter  with  a fine  mossy  trunk,  and  from  beneath 
the  shade  of  these  woodland  patriarchs  the  prospeCt  is  supposed  to  be 
visible.  Dotvn  a dusty  path  a farmer  is  loitering  behind  his  flock  ot 
sheep.  A river,  calm  and  lucent,  slumbers  in  the  midst  of  the  scenery, 
and  beyond  are  groves,  meadows,  and  a village  ; a mountain  range  forms 

13 


194 


American  Artist  Life. 

the  background.  Such  is  the  outline  of  the  landscape,  but  its  charm 
consists  in  the  atmosphere.  The  artist  has  depicted  to  a miracle  the 
brooding  haze  noticeable  in  our  climate  at  the  close  of  a sultry  day 
during  a drought.  There  are  some  verses  of  Bryant’s  which  convey  in 
words  a remarkably  just  impression  of  the  scene  thus  depicted,  and  the 
coincidence  of  feeling  in  the  poet  and  painter  indicates  how  truly  native 
is  the  composition  of  each. 


“ The  quiet  August  day  has  come, 

A slumberous  silence  fills  the  sky, 

The  fields  are  still,  the  woods  are  dumb, 

In  glassy  sleep  the  waters  lie. 

“ And  mark  yon  soft  white  clouds  at  rest 
Above  our  vale,  a moveless  throng  ; 

The  cattle  on  the  mountain’s  breast 
Enjoy  the  grateful  shadow  long. 

“ And  now  a joy  too  deep  for  sound, 

A peace  no  other  season  knows, 

Hushes  the  heavens  and  wraps  the  ground — 
The  blessing  of  supreme  repose. 

“ Rest  here,  beneath  the  un moving  shade. 

And  on  the  silent  valleys  gaze, 

Winding  and  widening,  till  they  fade 
In  yon  soft  ring  of  summer  haze. 

“ The  village  trees  their  summits  rear 
Still  as  its  spire,  and  yonder  flock, 

At  rest  in  those  calm  fields,  appear 
As  chiselled  from  the  lifeless  rock.” 


The  details  of  the  two  pictures  differ  somewhat,  it  is  true,  but  in 
spirit  they  are  identical.  It  was  a bright  thought  of  the  Sketch  Club  (a 
small  private  society  in  New  York),  that  each  of  its  members  should  con- 
tribute an  illustration  to  Bryant’s  poems.  We  hope  the  design  may  yet 
be  realized.  Few  American  poems,  for  instance,  are  susceptible  of 
finer  illustration  than  the  “ Fountain.”  In  the  hands  of  a competent 
artist  it  would  form  a most  graphic  emblem  of  our  civilization,  from  the 
primeval  wilderness,  through  the  lives  of  savage,  hunter,  and  settler,  to 
the  thriving  homes  of  a populous  and  extensive  city.  The  best  hints 
towards  the  object  in  view  were  those  suggested  by  the  faithful  pencil  of 
Durand,  whose  eye  for  quiet  scenery  is  correct  and  discerning.  In  color, 
too,  whatever  may  be  his  natural  perception,  he  evidently  aims  at  har- 
mony. This,  to  a discriminating  observer,  is  no  small  praise.  Nature  so 
blends  her  tints  as  to  produce  a genial  but  not  dazzling  impression,  which 
gratifies  without  disturbing  the  vision.  A celebrated  author,  speaking  of 
moral  experiences,  has  observed  that  ‘‘  the  unconscious  is  the  only  true.” 
An  analogous  fact  pertains  to  the  natural  world,  where  every  variety  of 
hue  is  so  admirably  disposed  as  to  contribute  to  a general  and  pleasing 
unitv,  so  that  we  do  not  note  each  in  our  sympathy  with  all.  Durand  has 


Durand ’ 195 

not  ventured  on  any  very  brilliant  experiments  in  color  ; his  tone  is 
subdued. 

Of  late  years  the  public  have  enjoyed  comparatively  few  opportunities  of 
examining  a fresh  landscape  by  Durand,  for  the  reason  that  his  works  pass 
at  once  from  his  studio  to  the  fortunate  owner.  One  of  the  latest  of  his 
pictures  is  called  a “ Summer  Afternoon,”  and  represents  a quiet  landscape, 
with  water,  meadow,  trees,  and  cattle,  all  bathed  in  the  soft,  calm,  and  mel- 
low light  of  a warm  day,  after  the  tierce  heat  of  noon  has  subsided,  and  be- 
fore the  breeze  of  evening  stirs  the  foliage.  The  sky  and  atmosphere,  the 
vegetation,  and  especially  the  noble  groups  of  trees,  all  breathe  an  air  of 
quiet,  brooding  warmth  and  repose.  All  Durand’s  rare  faculty  appears  in 
the  latter,  which  are  full  of  local  character  ; the  details  of  the  scene  are 
exqusitely  true,  but  the  surpassing  charm  is  that  delicate  and  deep  feeling 
which  revives,  as  we  gaze,  the  absolute  sensation,  and  above  all  the  senti- 
ment of  nature,  under  this  aspeCt — a quality  and  a distinction  which  none 
of  our  scenic  artists  possess  in  so  high  a degree  as  the  venerable  friend  of 
Cole,  and,  with  him,  the  founder  of  an  American  school  of  landscape  which 
has,  at  home  and  abroad,  shed  a peculiar  renown  upon  the  art  of  this  coun- 
try. We  rejoice  to  find  that  Durand’s  powers  of  execution  and  tone  of 
feeling  are  as  vivid  and  pure  as  ever  ; this  picture  has  all  his  most  endeared 
characteristics.  These  are  evident  in  his  more  recent  delineation  of  the 
“ Clove  ” in  the  Catskills  ; that  lofty  and  umbrageous  gorge  is  clad  in  the 
verdure  of  its  summer  glory.  The  peculiar  fidelity  and  sentiment  of  nature 
with  which  Durand  always  depicls  trees,  is  eloquently  manifest.  The 
aerial  perspective,  the  gradations  of  light,  the  tints  of  foliage,  the  slope  of 
the  mountains — in  a word,  the  whole  scenic  expression  is  harmonious, 
grand,  tender,  and  true.  Some  of  the  artist’s  old  friends  of  the  Cen- 
tury Club  combined  to  purchase  this  noble  and  characteristic  work  to 
adorn  the  walls  of  their  gallery,  and  serve  as  an  artistic  memorial  of  the 
genius  of  their  endeared  associate — a deserved  and  beautiful  compliment. 

Durand’s  landscapes  are  widely  scattered  ; one  of  the  earliest  admirers 
of  his  genius  was  Luman  Reed  ; and  Jonathan  Sturgis,  Esq.,  of  New  York, 
owns  several  of  his  early  and  of  his  best  works  ; such  as  “ In  the  Woods,” 
“ A View  near  Saugerties,”  four  u Roman  Heads,”  “ The  Bride,”  a por- 
trait, a copy  of  one  of  Titian’s  “Graces,”  and  a Monk  after  the  same  mas- 
ter, “ The  Knight  and  Lady,”  and  the  “ Music  Lesson,”  after  Metz,  and  a 
fine  copy  of  Rembrandt’s  portrait  of  himself.  “ The  Beeches,”  illustrating 
Gray’s  line  “ At  the  foot  of  yonder  beech,”  belongs  to  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq., 
of  New  York  ; “ On  the  Pemmigewassett,”  to  George  L.  Stephenson,  Esq., 
of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.;  “Lake  George,”  to  Geo.  R.  Melhekars.  Another  ot 
“The  Beeches,”  to  W.  T.  Walters,  Esq.,  of  Baltimore,  Md.  ; his  portraits 
of  Presidents  Adams,  Munroe,  Jefferson,  and  Jackson,  are  in  the  collec- 
ionn  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society;  Governeur  Kemble,  Esq.,  of 
Cold  Spring,  New  York,  has  one  of  his  finest  tree-groups;  “ Sancuskill, 
Livingston  Manor,”  belongs  to  James  Lenbx,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; his 
llustration  of  Goldsmith’s  metaphor  “As  some  tall  cliff,”  etc.,  belongs  to 


American  Artist  Life. 


196 

Mr.  Olyphant,  and  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  Esq.,  of  New,  has  one  of  his  Swiss 
Views  ; a Claude-like  Summer  Scene  from  his  pencil  was  sold  with  the 
Wright  Collection  in  New  York  ; Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York, 
has  his  “ Morning  of  Life,”  “ Scroon  Lake,”  and  “ The  Rescue  ” ; his 
“Classic  Italy,”  and  “Travellers’  Home,”  were  purchased  at  the  Wolfe 
sale  for  four  hundred  and  ninety  dollars  each,  by  Mr.  Emoray  ; his 
“ Thanatopsis  ” brought  at  the  Artists’  Fund  Sale,  1865,  thirteen  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  ; and  a lake  scene  from  his  pencil  on  the  same  occasion  was 
sold  for  fourteen  hundred. 

His  brother-artists  testified  their  respeCt  for  his  character  and  admiration 
of  his  talent  by  electing  him  President  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design, 
an  office  he  held  several  years,  and  at  length  resigned  because  of  enfeebled 
health,  which  made  it  requisite  to  concentrate  all  his  energy  upon  his  art, 
and  to  seek  the  repose  and  independence  of  domestic  retirement.  Seldom 
has  an  honor  been  more  justly  awarded,  for  Durand’s  views  of  art  are  of 
that  elevated  and  refined  kind  which  make  him  a noble  representative 
thereof.  His  pictures  best  illustrate  his  theory  ; but  we  have  also  some 
pleasing  and  precious  written  testimony  in  the  shape  of  a few  letters  on 
landscape-painting,  which  he  contributed  to  the  “Crayon,”  an  art  journal, 
edited  by  his  son.  “ The  great  law,”  he  observes,  “ that  provides  for  the 
sustenance  of  the  soul  through  the  ministry  of  spiritual  things,  has  fixed 
an  irresistible  barrier  between  its  own  pursuits  and  those  which  supply  our 
physical  wants  ; for  this  reason  we  cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon  ; and 
I would  sooner  look  for  figs  on  thistles,  than  for  the  higher  attributes  of 
art  from  one  whose  ruling  motive  in  its  pursuit  is  money.”  He  is  an  ad- 
vocate of  that  originality  which  we  recognize  as  characteristic  of  our  best 
landscape-painters.  “ Why,”  he  asks,  “ should  not  the  American  land- 
scape-painter, in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  self-government,  boldly 
originate  a high  and  independent  style,  based  on  his  own  resources  ? ” As 
to  the  method  thereof,  he  remarks,  “ Go  first  to  nature  to  learn  to  paint 
landscape  ; and,  when  you  shall  have  learnt  to  imitate  her,  you  may  study 
the  pictures  of  great  artists  with  benefit.”  How  much  wisdom  is  there  in 
the  following  definition:  “If  you  ask  me  to  define  conventionalism  I 
should  say,  that  it  is  the  substitution  of  an  easily-expressed  falsehood  for  a 
difficult  truth.”  Llis  reverence — a sentiment  essential  to  the  pure  inter- 
pretation of  nature — is  manifest  in  his  style  and  tone  of  painting,  and  give 
personal  emphasis  to  his  declaration  that  “ the  external  appearance  of  this, 
our  dwelling-place,  apart  from  its  wondrous  structure  and  functions  that 
minister  to  our  well-being,  is  fraught  with  lessons  of  high  and  holy 
meaning.” 


W . E . WEST. 


HEN  Scott  was  asked  what  he  deemed  the  chief  benefit 
derived  from  his  literary  reputation,  he  replied — the  social 
privileges  attending  it.  This  is  a striking  illustration  of 
the  superior  interest  which  truly  gifted  minds  attach  to 
character  and  genius.  Nature  is  everywhere,  and  one  of 
her  genuine  lovers  has  declared  that  a single  blade  of  grass 
is  amply  suggestive  ; the  machinery  of  life,  too,  varies  but  slightly,  and  the 
goods  of  fortune  have  but  a limited  relation  to  enjoyment  ; but  the  lovely 
and  the  wise,  the  prominent  spirits  in  art  and  literature,  in  science  and 
adventure,  in  natural  endowment  and  generous  culture,  yield  gratifica- 
tion at  once  to  our  highest  curiosity  and  noblest  affedtions.  Those  who 
are  conscious,  as  the  best  natures  ever  are,  of  attaining  satisfaction  chiefly 
through  their  sympathies,  may  congratulate  themselves  if  their  profession, 
talents,  or  fame,  if  any  grace  of  manner  or  of  soul,  has  given  them  the 
golden  key  to  this  delightful  intercourse.  Such  is  one  of  the  incidental 
blessings  which  redeems  an  artist’s  destiny,  and  especially  that  of  a suc- 
cessful portrait-painter.  Reynolds  enjoyed  the  intimacy  of  the  choicest 
spirits  of  his  day,  and  Stuart’s  associations  are  traditional  on  this  side  of 
the  water.  The  relation  between  an  artist  and  his  sitter,  the  motives  which 
exist  in  each  for  a pleasant  self-development,  and  the  mere  opportunity 
afforded  for  mutual  confidence,  favor  open  and  intelligent  communion. 
Few  strangers  are  brought  together  under  circumstances  better  adapted 
for  the  display  of  character.  We  have  known  the  deficiencies  of  an  indif- 
ferent early  training  quite  compensated  in  an  artist,  by  the  frequent  and 
familiar  contadt  with  highly  cultivated  minds  induced  by  his  vocation.  If 
the  adventurous  enter  the  army  and  navy  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  see 
the  world,  an  ardent  humanitarian,  with  any  chance  of  renown,  might  be 
forgiven  for  embracing  this  department  of  the  fine  arts  in  order  to  reap 
the  social  harvest  it  affords..  The  diary  of  a favorite  portrait-painter, 
written  in  the  right  vein,  would  be  at  least  as  attractive  a chronicle  of  his 
times  as  that  of  an  author  or  a physician.  The  scenes  upon  which  our 
eyes  have  rested  with  admiration  may  fade  from  the  memory  ; the  physi- 
cal sensations  that  have  thrilled  or  agonized  our  frames  may  have  left  no 
conscious  trace  ; the  picture,  the  book,  or  the  song  that  enraptured  ©in- 
fancy may  be  recalled  with  but  vague  and  light  emotion — but  the  human 


198 


American  Artist  Life. 

being  crowned  by  genius,  loveliness,  or  moral  beauty,  whom  we  have  once 
known,  becomes  a part  of  ourselves  ; the  acquaintance  is  an  epoch  in  our 
mental  history,  and  the  reminiscence  ever  fresh  because  associated  with 
what  is  most  endearing  and  satisfactory. 

Some  anecdotes  of  his  artist-life  that  we  gathered  in  conversation  with 
Mr.  West,  agreeably  revived  these  ideas. 

While  in  Italy,  Lord  Byron  sat  to  him  for  a portrait,  which  was  much 
esteemed  by  the  poet’s  friends.  “On  the  day  appointed,”  said  the 
artist,  “ I arrived  at  two  o’clock,  and  began  the  picture.  I found  him  a 
bad  sitter.  He  talked  all  the  time,  and  asked  a multitude  of  questions 
about  America— how  I liked  Italy,  what  I thought  of  the  Italians,  etc. 
When  he  was  silent  he  was  no  better  sitter  than  before  ; for  he  assumed  a 
countenance  that  did  not  belong  to  him,  as  though  he  were  thinking  of  a 
frontispiece  for  Childe  Harold.  In  about  an  hour  our  first  sitting  terminat- 
ed, and  I returned  to  Leghorn,  scarcely  able  to  persuade  myself  that  this 
was  the  haughty  misanthrope  whose  character  had  always  appeared  so 
enveloped  in  gloom  and  mystery,  for  I do  not  remember  ever  to  have  met 
with  manners  more  gentle  and  attractive. 

“ The  next  day  I returned  and  had  another  sitting  of  an  hour,  during 
which  he  seemed  anxious  to  know  what  I should  make  of  my  undertak- 
ing. While  I was  painting,  the  window  from  which  I received  my  light 
became  suddenly  darkened,  and  I heard  a voice  exclaim,  L e troppo  hello  ! ’ 

I turned  and  discovered  a beautiful  female  stooping  down  to  look  in,  the 
ground  on  the  outside  being  on  a level  with  the  bottom  of  the  window. 
Her  long  golden  hair  hung  down  about  her  face  and  shoulders,  her  com- 
plexion was  exquisite,  and  her  smile  completed  one  of  the  most  romantic- 
looking heads,  set  off,  as  it  was,  by  the  bright  sun  behind  it,  which  I had 
ever  beheld.  Lord  Byron  invited  her  to  come  in,  and  introduced  her  to 
me  as  the  Countess  Guiccioli.  He  seemed  very  fond  of  her,  and  I was 
glad  of  her  presence,  for  the  playful  manner  which  he  assumed  toward  her 
made  him  a much  better  sitter. 

“ The  next  day  I was  pleased  to  find  that  the  progress  which  I had 
made  in  his  likeness  had  given  satisfaction,  for,  when  we  were  alone,  he 
said  that  he  had  a particular  favor  to  request  of  me— -would  I grant  it  ? I 
said  I should  be  happy  to  oblige  him,  and  he  enjoined  me  to  the  flattering 
task  of  painting  the  Countess  Guiccioli’s  portrait  for  him.  On  the  follow- 
ing morning  I began  it,  and,  after,  they  sat  alternately.  He  gave  me  the 
whole  history  of  his  connection  with  her,  and  said  that  he  hoped  it  would 
last  forever  ; at  an}'  rate,  it  should  not  be  his  fault  if  it  did  not.  His 
other  attachments  had  been  broken  off  by  no  fault  of  his.” 

It  was  West’s  custom,  while  engaged  upon  the  portrait  of  Lord  Byron,  to 
leave  Leghorn  daily,  soon  after  mid-day,  for  the  poet’s  villa  at  Montenero, 
and  apply  himself  to  the  picture  for  two  or  three  hours.  On  one  occasion 
while  thus  occupied,  the  servant  announced  Shelley,  who  was  immediately 
invited  to  enter.  At  that  time  he  was  almost  unknown  to  fame,  and  the 
painter  observed  him  in  a perfectly  unexaggerated  mood.  We  therefore 


W.  E.  West. 


199 


listened  with  avidity  to  his  first  impressions.  The  day  was  sultry,  and 
Shelley  was  clad  in  a loose  dress  of  gingham,  very  simple  and  appro- 
priate His  open  collar,  beardless  face  and  long  hair,  as  well  as  thin  and 
slight  figure,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a stripling.  He  advanced  grace- 
fully, raised  the  hand  of  Madame  Guiccioli,  after  the  custom  of  the  coun- 
try, to  his  lips,  and  assuming  an  easy  posture,  immediately  entered  into  a 
lively  conversation  with  the  party.  “ Never,”  said  the  artist,  “ have  I 
seen  a face  so  expressive  of  ineffable  goodness.”  Its  angelic  benignity 
and  intelligence  were  only  shadowed  by  a certain  sadness,  as  of  one  upon 
whom  life  pressed  keenly,  at  touching  variance  with  the  youth  indicated 
by  his  contour  and  movements.  Enthusiasm,  however,  soon  wonderfully 
kindled  his  countenance  and  quickened  his  speech,  as  he  described,  in  the 
most  vivid  and  glowing  terms,  a cave  that  he  had  discovered  while  coast- 
ing along  the  Mediterranean  the  day  previous.  The  description  was  so 
eloquent  that  his  auditors  could  not  but  share  the  delight  of  Shelley,  as 
he  dwelt  upon  the  azure  light,  the  mysterious  entrance,  the  stalactites 
and  transparent  water,  amid  which  his  boat  had  suddenly  glided  as  if  by 
magic.  Those  acquainted  with  his  poetry  will  recognize  a favorite  subjeCt 
in  this  cavern-talk.  What  struck  Mr.  West  most  forcibly  in  Shelley’s 
conversation,  was  its  complete  self-forgetfulness.  His  consciousness  was 
lost  in  his  theme.  In  this  respect  he  presented  an  entire  contrast  to 
Byron.  They  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  a wild  cry  from  the  adjoining 
hall.  The  illustrious  sitter  hastened  towards  the  door  at  the  same  mo- 
ment with  Shelley,  the  countess,  pale  and  terrified,  vainly  entreating  and 
holding  him  back.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Byron  was  at  this  period 
regarded  with  suspicion  by  the  Tuscan  government,  and  his  residence  had 
been  threatened  with  violence  by  some  of  the  local  authorities  to  whom 
he  had  given  offence.  Under  an  idea  that  the  disturbance  grew  out  of 
these  circumstances,  the  whole  party  entered  the  saloon.  The  instant 
they  appeared,  a man  rushed  past,  followed  by  another  with  an  uplifted 
dagger ; the  weapon  grazed  Byron’s  cheek,  and  at  the  sight  of  blood,  his 
companion,  still  more  alarmed,  strove  to  drag  him  towards  the  great  stair- 
case. Before  reaching  it,  Count  Gamba,  who  had  heard  the  tumult  in  his 
chamber,  was  seen  running  down  with  half  a score  of  pistols,  which  he 
distributed  among  the  party.  They  all  ascended  and  locked  themselves 
in  a room  over  the  front  entrance  of  the  villa,  where  a council  of  war  was 
held.  Meantime  the  house  had  resumed  its  wonted  stillness,  and  Byron 
expressed  his  determination  to  explore  the  premises.  The  countess  pro- 
tested with  tears  against  the  design,  and  Mr.  West, — who  as  an  Ameri- 
can had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  police,  and  had  lived  too  secluded  to  be 
an  objedt  of  animosity, — in  order  to  calm  the  lady’s  fears  and  enable  his 
friends  to  solve  the  mystery,  volunteered  to  reconnoitre.  Accordingly,  he 
left  the  excited  group  and  descended  to  the  primo piano.  It  appeared 
entirely  deserted.  He  looked  into  various  rooms  and  threaded  several 
corridors,  but  the  echoes  of  a closing  door  or  his  own  footsteps  alone 
gave  sign  of  life.  At  length  he  ventured  to  remove  the  fastenings  of  the 


200 


American  Artist  Life. 


ponderous  door,  which  at  the  first  alarm  had  been  carefully  barricaded. 
In  the  midst  of  the  weed-grown  area  was  kneeling  a villainous-looking 
but  evidently  frightened  Italian,  with  the  moustaches  and  eye  of  a bri- 
gand, but  the  air  of  a penitent — vociferating,  gesticulating,  tearing  his 
hair,  shedding  torrents  of  tears,  and  invoking  either  Heaven  or  some 
intermediate  saint.  Our  painter  stepped  forth  upon  the  gravel-walk  and 
looked  up  to  the  window.  At  a more  tranquil  moment  it  would  have 
charmed  his  artistic  perception.  Byron’s  pale  brow,  Count  Gamba’s 
ardent  gaze,  his  sister’s  golden  locks,  and  Shelley’s  spiritual  form,  were 
there  all  clustered  together,  and  each  looked  and  listened  with  bewildered 
attention  to  the  suppliant  wretch  below,  whom  Mr.  West  now  approached 
in  the  hope  of  obtaining -some  key  to  the  enigmatical  scene.  It  was  long, 
however,  before  his  impassioned  volubility  could  be  soothed,  or  his  mortal 
terror  quieted.  It  then  appeared  that  he  was  a servant — the  man  who  had 
rushed  by  them  with  a dagger — and  he  vowed  never  to  rise  from  his  knees 
until  his  declaration  was  believed  that  he  was  in  pursuit  of  one  of  his 
fellows  who  had  grossly  injured  him,  and  that  he  had  wounded  his  master 
quite  accidentally,  to  whom  he  s^ore  eternal  loyalty  and  devoted  attach- 
ment. When  Mr.  West  made  all  this  plain  to  the  group  at  the  window, 
the  tragedy  immediately  became  the  richest  of  comic  adventures  over 
which  to  laugh  at  dinner.  But  it  was  not  destined  to  end  without  the 
entrance  of  another  famous  personage  on  the  stage.  The  noise  of  a 
horse’s  tread  near  by,  caused  the  artist  to  turn  his  eyes  down  the  avenue, 
where  he  saw  a gentleman  with  an  olive  complexion  and  dark,  lustrous 
eye,  seated  in  a carriage,  and  glancing  from  the  window  to  the  still  gesti- 
culating servant,  and  then  to  himself,  with  an  expression  of  amusing 
wonderment.  It  was  Leigh  Hunt,  who  had  just  arrived  from  England, 
thinking  at  the  moment  that  he  had  only  come  to  find  his  long  expectant 
poet-friends  in  a lunatic  asylum.  We  may  imagine,  with  such  a reunion 
and  after  such  a series  of  dramatic  incidents,  how  the  breezy  evening  of 
thaf  summer  day  was  spent  at  the  Villa  Dupoy. 

At  the  period  when  West  painted  Byron  and  the  Countess  Guiccioli  (the 
engraved  copies  of  which  pictures  in  this  country  are  positive  libels  upon 
the  originals),  the  poet’s  thoughts  were  directed  towards  America.  He 
had  not  then  resolved  upon  his  Grecian  expedition,  his  sojourn  in  Italy 
had  become  annoying  from  various  causes,  and  he  was  more  than  ever  dis- 
afifeCted  towards  his  native  land.  One  of  our  vessels  of  war  was  lying  in 
the  harbor  of  Leghorn,  and  among  her  gallant  officers  were  some  warm 
admirers  of  Childe  Harold.  They  sought  his  acquaintance,  and  invited 
him  to  visit  the  frigate.  When  he  went  on  board  he  received  a salute,  and 
few  compliments  ever  gratified  him  so  much.  He  had  read  in  some  peri- 
odical a review  of  Wirt’s  “ Life  of  Patrick  Henry,”  and  begged  Mr.  West 
to  procure  a copy  of  the  book,  which  he  declared  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing biographies  he  ever  read.  One  trait  of  his  intercourse  with  the  artist 
is  so  thoroughly  characteristic  that  it  deserves  mention.  As  usual,  be  was 
very  curious  to  know  what  the  painter  thought  of  him,  and  finally  induced 


W.  E.  West . 


201 


the  latter  to  confess  that  he  did  not  think  him  a happy  man.  Byron  was 
eager  to  ascertain  wherein  the  contrary  was  evident.  “ I asked  him,”  said 
West,  “if  he  had  never  observed  in  little  children,  after  a paroxysm  of 
grief,  that  they  had  at  intervals  a convulsive  or  tremulous  manner  of  draw- 
ing in  a long  breath.  Whenever  I had  observed  this,  in  persons  of  what- 
ever age,  I had  always  found  that  it  came  from  sorrow.  He  said  the 
thought  was  new  to  him,  and  that  he  would  make  use  of  it.” 

Another  interesting  association  of  Mr.  West’s  foreign  residence,  is  his 
visit  to  Rhyllon,  where  he  had  been  invited  to  paint  Mrs.  Hemans. 
“There  never  was  a countenance,”  says  her  sister,  “more  difficult  to 
transfer  to  canvas,  so  varying  were  its  expressions,  and  so  impossible  is  it 
to  be  satisfied  with  the  one  which  can  alone  be  perpetuated  by  the  artist. 
The  great  charm  of  Mr.  West’s  picture  is  its  perfect  freedom  from  any- 
thing set  or  constrained  in  the  air,  and  the  sweet,  serious  expression  so 
accordant  with  her  maternal  character.  In  her  own  lines  to  this  portrait, 
the  poetess  exclaims — 


“ Such  power  is  thine  ! — they  come,  the  dead. 
From  the  grave’s  bondage  free, 

And  smiling  back,  the  changed  are  led 
To  look  in  love  on  thee.” 


An  unfortunate  speculation  with  one  of  his  inventive  countrymen,  whose 
mechanical  genius  had  brought  him  to  London,  induced  Mr.  West,  many 
years  since,  to  return  to  this  country,  where  he  afterwards  long  resided, 
chiefly  in  New  York,  mingling  little  with  younger  artists,  but  the  favored 
guest  of  a few  attached  families,  until  the  infirmities  of  age  induced  his  return 
to  his  nearest  living  kindred  at  Nashville,  Tennessee,  where  he  died  on 
the  2d  of  November,  1857.  Within  three  days  of  his  death  he  was  engaged 
upon  portraits.  Some  of  his  more  recent  works  are  admirable  in  their 
way.  He  excelled  in  cabinet  fancy  portraits,  and  not  a few  of  his  efforts 
of  this  kind  are  quite  unsurpassed,  at  least  among  us.  His  ability  in  por- 
trait on  a broader  scale  is  evidenced  by  that  of  G.  H.  Calvert.  The  light  and 
shade  are  managed  with  a Rembrandt  effeCt.  and  the  expression  and  air 
reminds  us  of  Vandyke.  A picture  called  “The  Confessional,”  a favorite 
of  his  friend  Irving’s,  is  in  the  collection  of  the  New  York  Historical 
Society  ; a cabinet  likeness  of  a young  and  lovely  girl,  in  Greek  costume, 
belongs  to  Dr.  J.  G.  Cogswell ; his  portrait  of  Thomas  Swan  belongs  to 
Governor  Swan,  of  Baltimore.  Several  of  his  pictures  are  in  the  posses- 
sion of  F.  H.  Delano,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 

The  analogies  between  literature  and  art  are  more  numerous  and  deli- 
cate than  we  are  apt  to  imagine.  The  former  is  ever  yielding  themes  to  the 
latter,  while  the  essential  charm  of  many  popular  writers  is  purely  artistic. 
This  is  the  case  to  a remarkable  degree  with  Irving,  and  the  principal 
reason  of  the  enthusiasm  his  early  writings  excited  among  his  countrymen 
was,  that  they  were  the  first  which  possessed  any  native  grace  and  finish 
of  style.  The  thoughts  and  sentiments  of  Geoffrey  Crayon  are  not  original 


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American  Artist  Life. 


or  profound,  though  sweet  and  natural,  but  they  are  uttered  in  chaste  and 
refined  language — in  sentences  that  win  the  ear,  in  words  chosen  with  a 
tact  and  taste  derived  from  innate  perception  and  a genuine  sense  of 
beauty.  It  is  said  that  Irving  in  his  youth  contemplated  the  profession 
of  an  artist ; his  writings  are  the  best  proof  of  his  adaptation  to  such  a 
life.  His  pictures  are  not  sublime,  dramatic,  or  vivid,  but  they  are  dreamy, 
graceful,  and  quiet — exactly  such  as  would  afford  a painter  like  Mr.  West 
genial  subjects  for  his  pencil  ; for  his  taste  was  also  fastidious  ; he 
delighted  in  exquisite  details,  and  it  was  a labor  of  love  to  him  to  work 
over  some  pleasing  design,  and  bring  it  to  perfection.  He  was  a loyal  dis- 
ciple of  the  English  school,  somewhat  of  a conservative  and  partisan  in 
art,  and  one  of  those  students  of  painting  that  never  travel  without  a copy 
of  Sir  Joshua’s  Discourses.  Hence  he  had  little  sympathy  with  his  Amer- 
ican cotemporaries,  and  lived  chiefly  in  himself  and  the  past.  We  find  no 
difficulty,  on  the  catholic  principle  in  which  Allston  delighted,  that  of  being 
a “wide  liker,”  in  fully  recognizing  the  claims  of  this  class  of  artists,  of 
which  we  believe  Mr.  West  was  the  best  representative  in  this  country. 
They  are  of  the  same  fraternity  in  painting  as  was  Gray  in  poetry,  aiming 
chiefly  at  high  finish  and  minute  effect,  exaCt,  dainty,  and  fanciful.  Among 
the  first  successful  pieces  of  this  artist  were  illustrations  of  Irving’s  “ Pride 
of  the  Village,”  and  “ Annette  de  l’Arbre.”  The  latter,  when  exhibited  at 
the  Royal  Academy,  drew  the  attention  of  the  poet  Rogers.  It  represented 
the  deranged  girl  at  her  lonely  vigil  on  the  beach,  watching  in  vain  for  her 
lover’s  return.  The  appreciation  of  the  bard  of  memory  drew  general 
attention  to  the  picture  ; his  ever-ready  sympathy  with  talent  secured  the 
artist  his  friendship,  and  this  was  the  auspicious  commencement  of  a long 
and  prosperous  residence  in  London,  cheered  by  the  richest  companion- 
ship. It  is  not  surprising  that,  after  an  arduous  career  as  a portrait-painter 
in  the  West  and  South  at  home,  and  several  years  of  study  in  Italy,  the 
social  advantages  and  professional  success  he  enjoyed  in  England,  should 
have  rendered  Mr.  West  very  partial  to  her  school,  and  that  Wilkie  and 
Leslie  should  have  been  among  the  names  he  most  fondly  cherished. 


WEIR. 


O be  thoroughly  appreciated,  the  scenery  of  the  Hudson 
should  be  viewed  in  mid- winter  as  well  as  at  more  inviting; 
seasons.  When  the  ice  shivers  before  the  prow  of  the  steam- 
er, and  the  high  and  lonely  hills  on  either  side  are  snow- 
clad  ; when  the  onty  hues  that  relieve  the  surrounding 
whiteness  are  the  pale  blue  of  the  sky  and  the  dark  green 
of  the  firs  and  cedars,  a scene  is  presented  more  striking  to  the  imagination, 
from  the  reverse  it  affords  to  the  same  picture  when  alive  with  the  fresh- 
ness of  spring,  or  mellowed  by  the  glow  of  autumn.  Analogous  to  such  a 
contrast  is  that  between  the  phases  of  Weir’s  destiny  when  he  sailed  up 
the  noble  river  in  a sloop,  fifty  years  ago — exiled,  by  the  misfortunes  of 
his  father,  while  yet  a child,  to  the  home  of  an  ungenial  relative,  his  young 
yet  already  troubled  eyes  bent  on  the  cold  features  of  that  wintry  land- 
scape— and  when  he  now  looks  from  his  romantic  abode  upon  the  wild 
umbrage  of  Cro’nest,  the  honored  teacher  of  West  Point,  and  the  artist  of 
established  fame. 

Burns  immortalized  a sentiment  common  to  all  men  of  genius  when  he 
declared  independence  to  be  the  “ glorious  privilege”  for  which  alone  money 
was  desirable.  It  is  a trait  of  artist-life,  evidenced  in  countless  biographies, 
to  chafe  under  a sense  of  obligation,  and  contemn  all  interference  unau- 
thorized by  sympathy.  It  is  in  this  spirit  that  Hamlet  enumerates,  among 
his  other  reasons  in  the  famous  soliloquy,  for  indifference  to  life,  the 
“spurns  which  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes.”  In  boyhood,  Weir 
sacrificed  his  inclinations  to  filial  duty,  and  postponed  the  indulgence  of 
his  aspiring  tastes  rather  than  be  the  occasion  of  needless  solicitude  to 
those  interested  in  his  welfare.  Even  they  acquiesced  in  the  expediency 
of  securing  an  education,  however  limited,  and  after  a year’s  vain  attempt 
to  reconcile  himself  to  the  home  offered  by  his  kinsman,  he  returned  to 
New  York.  It  has  often  been  remarked  that  very  slight  circumstances 
affect  the  destiny  of  those  who  possess  marked  characteristics.  It  hap- 
pened that  the  house  where  young  Weir  attended  school  was  directly  op- 
posite the  rooms  of  Jarvis,  the  painter.  At  that  period  studios  were  by  no 
means  common,  and  this  one — associated  as  it  was  with  a popular  name, 
and  enshrining  the  mysteries  of  an  art  comparatively  litttle  known  and  less 
practised — became  a sort  of  enchanted  spot  to  the  schoolboy.  Day  after 


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American  Artist  Life. 

day  he  loitered  about  the  door,  and  at  last  summoned  courage  to  enter. 
The  painter  was  absent,  but  several  of  his  pupils  were  at  work,  and  they 
became  interested  by  the  ardent  curiosity  of  their  visitor,  and  kindly  replied 
to  his  many  questions.  Here  for  the  first  time  he  saw  Inman,  little  imagin- 
ing that  after  years  would  unite  them  so  cordially  in  the  glorious  brother- 
hood of  Art.  This  episode  of  his  early  youth,  while  it  awakened  the  latent 
desires  of  the  artist,  did  not  beguile  him  from  the  stern  duties  of  the  man. 
A situation  was  obtained  for  him  in  a respectable  French  mercantile  concern 
at  the  South,  and  in  eighteen  months  a branch  was  established  in  New 
York,  of  which  he  was  made  head  clerk.  It  was  then  that  he  formed  the 
resolution  gradually  to  emancipate  himself  from  a pursuit  which  required 
either  capital  or  life-long  drudgery  to  accomplish  its  ends,  by  cultivating 
his  own  powers  until  they  should  become  available  resources  both  for  sub- 
sistence and  fame.  From  six  to  eight  in  the  morning  he  studied  with  a 
painter  in  heraldry,  and  then  entered  upon  his  daily  task.  After  the  usual 
trials  of  patience,  he  produced,  in  1821,  a copy  of  a portrait  which  obtained 
for  him  a liberal  commission.  Thus  encouraged,  he  turned  his  entire  at- 
tention to  painting. 

Robert  W.  Weir  was  born  at  New  Rochelle,  N.  Y.,  June  18,  1803.  Both 
his  name  and  native  place  indicate  a Huguenot  descent,  a fact  still  further 
attested  by  the  painstaking,  patient,  and  conscientiously  intelligent  meth- 
od of  his  art-studies  and  practice,  and  the  genial  probity  of  his  character. 
Until  the  age  of  nineteen  he  was  engaged  in  commercial  occupations  ; and 
then,  under  the  influence  of  a strong  personal  bias  and  evident  ability, 
exchanged  them  for  the  profession  of  an  artist,  which  he  practised  for 
several  years  in  the  city  of  New  York,  having,  with  a view  to  improvement, 
visited  Europe.  In  1832  he  succeeded  Leslie  as  Professor  of  Drawing  in 
the  United  States  Military  Academy  at  West  Point.  Among  the  works 
whereby  Weir  established  a wide  reputation,  are  : “The  Antiquary  intro- 
ducing Lovell  to  his  Womankind” — in  illustration  of  Scott’s  novel ; “ The 
Bourbon’s  Last  March  ; ” “ The  Landing  of  Henry  Hudson  ; ” “ Colum- 
bus before  the  Council  of  Salamanca ; ” “ The  Embarkation  of  the  Pil- 
grims,” and  “ Indian  Captives.”  These  subjects  indicate  a love  of,  and 
their  execution  no  common  skill  in,  historical  and  genre  painting,  both  of 
which  branches  are  happily  combined  in  his  best  pictures  ; he  is  also  akin 
to  the  Flemish  school  in  his  faithful  and  effective  rendering  of  accessories 
and  still  life  ; landscape  and  portrait  have  auspiciously  engaged  his  versatile 
pencil,  and  in  religious  Art  he  has  manifested  ability  and  feeling. 

Before  visiting  Europe,  Weir  sought  effebt  in  art  through  a bold  and 
rapid  style.  The  great  advantage  he  derived  from  the  study  of  master- 
pieces abroad,  was  a convibtion  of  the  need  of  careful  and  elaborate  finish. 
Like  most  American  painters,  he  learned  that  he  had  commenced  where  he 
should  have  ended,  that  he  had  bodily  launched  upon  an  adventurous  career 
without  due  preparation.  He  now  understood  what  lasting  and  brilliant 
triumphs  could  be  realized  through  patience.  There  is  a spirit  of  calm, 
progressive  labor  essential  to  great  success  in  Art,  to  which  the  very  atmos- 


Weir. 


205 


phere  of  our  country  seems  unfavorable,  and  faith  in  this  influence  is  per- 
haps the  choicest  blessing  which  our  artists  acquire  in  the  Old  World. 
Weir  naturally  reverenced  truth  ; he  needed  but  to  see  her  light  in  order 
to  accept  it ; and  as  he  beheld  the  trophies  of  his  beautiful  profession  in 
the  galleries  of  Italy,  and  recognized  the  tranquil,  painstaking,  and  earnest 
labor  to  which  alone  can  be  ascribed  their  enduring  fame,  he  determined 
to  acquire  habits  of  care  and  precision,  and  learn  to  express  his  ideas  with- 
out vagueness,  and  in  the  clear,  well-defined,  and  highly-finished  manner 
that  he  now  knew  to  be  the  genuine  language  of  art.  There  is  no  more 
excellent  test  of  character  than  a revolution  of  habits.  Weir  brought  all 
his  energies  to  this  task.  He  became  for  a short  time  the  pupil  of  Ben- 
venuti,  who  was  then  adorning  the  Pitti  Palace  with  the  life  of  Hercules 
in  fresco.  From  the  figures  of  the  Grecian  mythology  he  turned  to  the 
simplest  natural  objeffis  in  the  fields  and  by  the  roadside,  and  practised 
drawing  from  the  models  and  casts  of  the  academy,  while  he  enlarged  his 
ideas  of  color  by  the  study  of  Titian  and  Paul  Veronese.  For  him  as  well 
as  for  other  strangers,  it  was  impossible  to  reconcile  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
modern  Italians  for  the  warm  tints  of  the  Venetian  school  with  their  own 
cold  and  monotonous  hues,  and  the  proficiency  of  their  best  painters  as 
draughtsmen  with  their  inadequate  notions  of  color.  After  painting  two 
sacred  themes — “ Christ  and  Nicodemus,”  and  “ the  Angel  relieving  Peter’5 
— at  Florence,  one  rainy  day  in  December,  1825,  he  entered  Rome.  Green- 
ough  and  himself  occupied  rooms  together  on  the  Pincian  hill,  opposite 
the  house  of  Claude  Loraine,  and  between  those  known  as  Salvator  Rosa’s 
and  Nicolo  Poussin’s.  Weir’s  account  of  his  life  at  Rome  resembles  that 
of  other  students  who  go  thither  for  improvement — exhibiting  the  same 
quiet  habits,  intense  application,  occasional  holidays,  and  cheerful  economy. 
Early  in  the  day  he  studied  at  home,  or  drew  from  the  antique  at  the  French 
Academy  ; after  breakfast  it  was  the  custom  to  go  to  the  Sistine  Chapel, 
the  Vatican,  or  some  private  palace,  and  work  until  three  o’clock,  when 
they  were  closed.  Pie  then  either  sought  his  own  studio,  or  the  adjacent 
campagna,  to  sketch  from  nature.  With  an  appetite  sharpened  by  exercise, 
he  repaired  towards  evening  to  a favorite  trattoria — once  the  painting-room 
of  Pompio  Bassoni,  whose  boundless  egotism  Reynolds  has  recorded — and 
after  dining,  joined  his  brother-artists  at  the  Caffe  del  Greco.  From  the 
fragrant  smoke  and  light-hearted  chat  of  this  unique  rendezvous,  Weir  has- 
tened to  the  life-school ; and  at  nine  o’clock,  when  the  nights  were  fine, 
went  amid  the  moonlight  to  enrich  his  portfolio  with  views  of  the  ruins,  and 
his  memory  with  dreams,  whose  touching  solemnity  melts  the  heart  and 
exalts  the  fancy.  It  is  a characteristic  anecdote  of  artist-life,  and  at  this 
period  he  lived  a month  upon  ten  cents  a day,  in  order  to  atone  for  the  ex- 
travagant purchase  of  a suit  of  armor.  The  basis  of  all  real  mental  apti- 
tude and  power  is,  doubtless,  good  sense,  and  Weir  evinced  his  reliance  on 
this  quality  by  the  judicious  use  he  made  of  his  experience  abroad.  He 
saw  and  condemned  the  slavery  of  the  Italians  to  the  past,  their  bigoted 
adherence  to  a certain  manner,  and  their  want  of  sympathy  with  nature  ; 


20  6 


American  Artist  Life. 


and  while  he  availed  himself  of  what  was  really  desirable  in  schools,  kept 
his  attention  fixed  chiefly  upon  truth,  wherever  discoverable.  In  cherishing 
this  independent  spirit,  he  was  true  to  his  birthright,  and  because  he  loved 
the  beautiful,  as  illustrated  in  Italy,  ceased  not  to  be  faithful  to  the  free  prin- 
ciples of  thought  and  sentiment  he  had  brought  from  America. 

It  is  curious  to  note  how  the  ideal  and  prosaic  sometimes  meet  in  the 
lives  of  artists.  Their  pursuits  ally  them  to  the  world  of  imagination,  to 
the  domain  of  the  beautiful,  to  the  contemplative  and  abstract  sphere  ; while 
their  actual  existence,  like  that  of  other  men,  is  environed  by  Circumstance, 
which  some  poet  justly  calls  the  unspiritual  god.  The  pecuniary  reverses  of 
his  father  obliged  Weir,  in  the  very  heyday  of  his  youth,  to  enter  a cotton 
factory,  but  in  a few  months  he  was  dismissed  for  having  so  carelessly  at- 
tended the  spinning-jennies,  and  so  aptly  caricatured  one  of  his  super- 
visors. In  the  midst  of  influences  so  opposed  to  his  instincts,  one  naturally 
wonders  that  they  should  have  asserted  themselves.  Yet  there  is  no  truth 
better  established  than  the  supremacy  of  nature  and  character  over  con- 
ventionalism and  accident.  It  maybe  long  before  the  “ eleCtric  chain  ” is 
struck,  but  when  once  the  spark  ignites,  the  promptings  of  destiny  are 
conscious  and  permanent.  “ What  then  is  taste  ? ” says  Akenside — 


“ What  then  is  taste,  but  these  internal  powers 
Active  and  strong,  and  feelingly  alive 
To  each  fine  impulse  ? 

This,  nor  gems  nor  stores  of  gold, 

Nor  purple  state,  nor  culture  can  bestow  ; 
But  God  alone,  when  first  his  adtive  hand 
Imprints  the  secret  bias  of  the  soul.” 


That  secret  bias  was  revealed  to  Weir  in  the  course  of  his  desultory  read- 
ing. He  fell  in  with  a copy  of  Dryden’s  translation  of  Du  Fresnoy’s  poem. 
The  triumphs  of  the  art  so  melodiously  set  forth  in  those  heroic  couplets, 
stirred  the  very  heart  and  drew  tears  from  the  eyes  of  the  enthusiastic  boy. 
In  such  a peaceful  field  he  longed  to  win  the  laurel,  and  already  beheld  in 
fancy  the  hallowed  trophies,  and  felt  the  magic  gifts  commemorated  by  the 
poet : — 


“ See  Raffaelle  there  his  forms  celestial  trace, 
Unrivalled  sovereign  of  the  realms  of  grace  ; 

See  Angelo,  with  energy  divine, 

Seize  on  the  summit  of  correct  design  ; 

Learn  how  at  Julio’s  birth  the  muses  smiled, 

And  in  their  mystic  caverns  nurs’d  the  child  ; 
Bright  beyond  all  the  rest,  Correggio  flings 
His  ample  lights,  and  round  them  gently  brings 
The  mingling  shade  : in  all  his  works  we  view 
Grandeur  of  style  and  chastity  of  hue. 

Vet  higher  still  great  Titian  dared  to  soar  ; 

He  reach’d  the  loftiest  heights  of  coloring’s  power : 
His  friendly  tints  in  happiest  mixture  flow  ; 

His  shades  and  lights  their  just  gradation  know  ; 
His  were  those  dear  delusions  of  the  art 
That  round,  relieve,  inspirit  every  part. 


Weir. 


207 


From  all  their  charms  combined,  with  happy  toil, 

Did  Annibal  compose  his  wondrous  style  ; 

O’er  the  fair  fraud  so  close  a veil  is  thrown, 

That  every  borrow’d  grace  becomes  his  o\^n.” 

The  illness  of  a countryman  and  fellow-student  induced  Weir  to  relin- 
quish his  projedt  of  a tour  in  the  north  of  Italy  and  a brief  sojourn  in 
France.  His  cheerful  abandonment  of  designs  so  ardently  cherished  and 
fitted  to  enlarge  his  views  of  art,  for  the  purpose  of  fulfilling  his  duties  as 
a friend,  indicates  a true  nobility  of  heart.  Indeed,  we  have  seldom  known 
more  loyal  and  disinterested  vigils  than  were  those  kept  by  the  generous 
painter  beside  his  suffering  companion  ; nor  did  his  assiduous  kindness  ter- 
minate until  he  had  conveyed  the  invalid  in  safety  to  his  distant  home.  Those 
who  have  known  what  it  is  to  meet  illness  and  death  in  a foreign  land, 
when  every  pang  is  rendered  more  acute  by  the  desolate  sensation  of  exile, 
can  alone  realize  how  precious  are  ministrations  such  as  these.  In  a spirit 
worthy  of  a true  artist,  Weir  yielded  his  personal  objedls,  ceased  his  win- 
some studies,  and  turned  aside  from  the  attractive  scenes  around  him,  to 
watch  over  his  countryman.  He  left  the  shores  of  Europe  with  the  regret 
which  his  limited  acquaintance  with  her  treasures  of  art  would  naturally 
excite  in  such  a mind.  He  was  cheered,  however,  by  the  satisfaction  of 
having  saved  the  life  of  a gifted  brother,  and  the  hope  of  subsequently  re- 
visiting the  scenes  of  their  mutual  studies.  Circumstances  soon  led  him 
indefinitely  to  postpone  the  realization  of  this  idea.  “ I feel  myself,”  he 
observes  in  a letter  written  a few  years  after,  “ anchored  for  life,  especially 
as  I have  some  little  hedges  out  which  have  moored  me  to  the  soil.” 

We  have  alluded  more  than  once  to  the  discouragements  which  obstruct 
artist-life  in  America,  its  comparative  isolation  and  want  of  sympathy,  and 
the  necessity  of  sacrificing  large  designs  to  immediate  exigencies.  In 
view  of  these  shadows  in  the  common  lot  of  artists,  Weir  may  be  con- 
sidered as  more  than  usually  fortunate.  The  immediate  successor  of  Les- 
lie, he  has  for  several  years  filled  the  office  of  instructor  in  drawing  at  the 
U.  S.  Military  Academy  at  West  Point.  It  is  a field  of  eminent,  though 
unpretending  usefulness,  and  its  duties  occupy  only  a certain  portion  of  the 
day,  so  that  ample  leisure  remains  for  the  artist’s  private  labors.  The 
choice  of  Weir  was  most  happy  for  the  institution.  His  tone  of  character, 
habits  of  method,  and  personal  bearing,  not  less  than  his  high  reputation 
as  a painter,  give  a dignity  to  the  situation  ; and,  as  might  have  been  con- 
fidently predicted,  both  officers  and  cadets  regard  him  with  the  greatest 
pride  and  affedtion.  As  to  the  success  which  attends  his  instrubtions,  it  is 
enough  perhaps  to  say,  that  the  average  degree  of  merit  evinced  by  the 
drawings  exhibited  at  the  examinations  quite  astonishes  those  who  have  been 
accustomed  to  think  that  proficiency  in  this  branch  depends  upon  a special 
endowment.  It  is  true,  there  are  obvious  grades  of  ability,  but  few  institu- 
tions, even  where  drawing  is  learned  from  choice  and  not  as  a requirement, 
can  furnish  such  examples  of  freedom,  accuracy,  and  skill. 

At  West  Point,  Weir  painted  his  “ Embarkation  of  the  Pilgrims.”  This 


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American  Artist  Life. 

work  was  undertaken  in  accordance  with  a resolution  of  Congress,  as  one 
of  the  historical  series  designed  to  adorn  the  rotunda  of  the  Capitol.  The 
subject  was  adopted  as  illustrative  of  what  has  ever  been  deemed  the  event 
of  greatest  moral  significance  in  our  annals.  Local  feeling,  and  the  com- 
placent fluency  with  which  New  England  writers  and  speakers  dwell  upon 
home  themes,  have  doubtless  exaggerated  its  value  ; and  it  is  not  quite  just 
to  accept  without  reserve  the  motto  which  partial  eulogists  have  recognized 
in  behalf  of  that  stern  little  band  of  dissenters,  “ with  these  men  came  the 
germ  of  the  republic.”  As  an  element  of  civilization  and  national  growth, 
the  inflexible  qualities  of  the  Puritan  character  possess  high  claims  to  ad- 
miration ; yet  that  such  a form  of  human  development  lacks  much  that  is 
essential  of  grace,  beauty, .comprehensiveness,  and  the  generous  sympathies, 
cannot  and  ought  not  to  be  denied.  Spiritual  pride  and  selfish  aims 
mingled  with  the  zealous  faith  of  the  Pilgrims.  Their  virtues  were  more 
stoical  than  spontaneous.  They  fostered  a tyranny  of  public  opinion  as 
blighting  as  that  of  kings.  The  urbane  conservatism  of  the  New  York 
colonists,  and  the  frank  enthusiasm  of  the  Virginia  cavaliers,  are  at  least 
requisite  contrasts  in  the  moral  pidture.  Yet  the  subject  was  well  chosen. 
It  was  desirable  that  one  of  the  panels  should  be  occupied  by  an  illustra- 
tion of  our  eastern  history,  and  its  peculiar  and  memorable  incident  is  the 
landing  of  the  Pilgrims.  “They  sought  a faith’s  pure  shrine,”  we  are  told 
by  the  ardent  muse  of  Mrs.  Piemans  ; and  this  is  the  grand  moral  of  Weir’s 
pidture,  in  the  light  of  which  it  is  to  be  viewed.  Divorced  from  such  an 
idea,  and  regarded  simply  as  affording  materials  for  picturesque  or  ideal 
scope,  the  subject  is  far  from  promising.  The  truth  is  (notwithstanding 
Milton),  there  has  never  been  any  natural  alliance  between  Puritanism  and 
poetry.  They  are  moral  antipodes.  Romanism  is  the  religion  of  Art. 
With  all  her  errors,  she  has  ever  met  the  native  sympathies  of  the  heart, 
and  obeyed  the  great  law  by  which  the  True  is  sought  through  the  Beau- 
tiful. Puritanism  represents  Christianity  as  an  opinion,  Catholicism  as  a 
sentiment ; the  former  addresses  the  intellect,  the  latter  the  feelings  and 
imagination.  Accordingly,  there  is  a certain  barrenness  and  cold  atmos- 
phere in  Puritan  history  which  is  the  reverse  of  inspiring  to  the  artist ; and 
we  trust  it  is  not  violating  the  privacy  of  the  accomplished  painter  of  “ The 
Embarkation  of  the  Pilgrims,”  to  allude  to  the  fadt  that  his  researches 
incident  to  the  enterprise,  resulted  in  making  him  an  earnest  churchman. 
For  the  accuracy  and  extent  of  those  researches,  Weir  deserves  more 
credit  than  he  has  received.  He  elaborated  his  design  in  a conscientious 
spirit,  which  the  most  exadting  member  of  the  group  on  the  “ Speedwell’s” 
deck  could  not  fail  to  approve.  Every  face  is  depidted  according  to  the 
most  authentic  hints  which  have  come  down  to  us  of  individual  charadter  ; 
the  costumes  and  accessories — such  as  the  screw  and  cradle — are  matter- 
of-fadt  copies.  A descendant  of  the  Pilgrims,  who  considered  himself  no 
tyro  in  the  knowledge  of  New  England  antiquities,  at  first,  called  in  ques- 
tion the  presence  of  a prominent  individual  in  the  pidture,  and  attempted 
to  prove  an  alibi , citing  historical  evidence  that  Carver  was  far  from  Delft 


Weir. 


209 


Haven  when  the  vessel  sailed  ; but  to  his  surprise,  the  artist  met  his  testi- 
mony with  earlier  and  more  authentic  data,  of  the  existence  of  which  he 
was  ignorant. 

In  addition  to  his  fidelity  to  history  in  detail,  a great  merit  of  the  picture 
is  the  felicity  of  its  grouping.  The  drawing  and  composition  have  been 
■warmly  praised  by  the  most  judicious  critics.  The  holy  representative 
of  a despised  and  persecuted  sebt,  kneeling  on  that  crowded  deck  in 
prayer  ; the  calm  elder,  the  intelligent  and  honest  ruler,  the  careless  mari- 
ner, the  resolute  soldier,  over  whose  rough  shoulder  peers  the  sweet 
features  of  his  fair  wife,  to  soften  and  cheer  the  gravity  of  the  scene  ; 
boyhood  and  age  ; expressions  of  parting  sorrow  and  lofty  faith  ; the  lady 
of  fashion  and  the  poor  woman  with  her  sick  child— all  mingle  together  in 
effective  positions  ; and  by  their  eloquent  features  make  the  spectator  feel 
the  self-denial,  the  wounded  affection,  and  the  solemn  purpose  involved  in 
that  high  but  dreary  enterprise.  It  may  be  a somewhat  humble  epithet, 
and  yet,  considering  the  subject,  not  inapplicable,  to  say  of  this  work  that 
there  is  an  air  of  thorough  respectability  about  it — by  which  we  mean,  a 
most  obvious  good  taste,  and  a wise  avoidance  of  everything  fantastic, 
extravagant,  and  incongruous.  Such  we  conceive  is  the  best  spirit  in 
which  such  a picture  could  be  executed.  It  may  be  objected  that,  as  a 
painting,  viewed  without  reference  to  the  subjebt  and  moral  impression, 
too  much  of  the  artist’s  toil  has  been  given  to  the  material  details,  and 
that  the  tone  of  the  whole  is  dry  and  cold.  This  latter  objection  seems 
to  us  so  much  in  harmony  with  the  subjebt  as  to  become  the  highest 
praise.  Would  not  the  rich  draperies  and  glowing  hues  of  Titian,  the 
spirited  figures  of  Salvator,  or  the  ideal  beauty  of  Raphael  and  Correggio, 
be  singularly  out  of  place  here  ? In  fact,  does  not  this  canvas  breathe  the 
correbt  and  firm,  and  at  the  same  time  the  frigid  spirit  of  the  Puritans  ? 
If  we  adopt  the  German  maxim  of  judging  every  work  by  its  own  law, 
such  a result  must  be  deemed  remarkably  successful.  As  life  presented 
itself  to  the  minds  of  these  men,  and  as  it  still  displays  itself,  though 
modified  by  circumstances,  to  their  descendants,  so  it  is  portrayed  by 
Weir — perhaps  unconsciously  in  a great  measure,  yet  none  the  less  truly. 
As  the  climate  and  verdure  of  the  New  England  coast  differ  from  those 
of  the  Bay  of  Naples — as  will  differs  from  sympathy,  opinion  from  senti- 
ment, mind  from  heart,  calculation  from  impulse,  faith  from  charity,  reason 
from  love,  so  should  the  refledlion  of  life,  the  art  of  the  north  differ  from 
that  of  the  south  ; and  on  this  ground,  however  “ The  Embarkation  of 
the  Pilgrims  ” may  affebt  the  imagination,  it  cannot  fail  to  gratify  our  sense 
of  the  appropriate.  A few  years  since  the  artist  executed  an  elaborate 
cabinet-sized  copy  of  this  work,  which,  in  color  and  some  of  the  details  of 
execution,  is  an  improvement  upon  the  original.  Greenough  rigorously 
criticised  this  picture;  had  he  seen  the  small  copy  by  the  artist,  he  would 
have  found  his  objections  modified,  if  not  removed,  and  his  praise  con- 
firmed : 

w The  general  aspect  of  this  pibture,”  he  writes,  “ is  striking.  The  idea 

14 


210 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  representing  these  heroes  of  our  history,  engaged  in  prayer  on  the 
deck  of  the  good  ship  that  was  to  waft  them  to  these  shores,  was  an  in- 
genious and  a happy  one.  The  composition  of  lines  is  worthy  of  Mr. 
Weir,  and  shows  a profound  study  of  that  very  difficult  branch  of  his  art. 
There  is  no  clap-trap  or  vulgar  effeCt  in  the  arrangement — all  are  in  their 
places,  and  a pleasing  variety  has  been  created  without  any  theatrical 
makeshift.  The  subject  has  been  treated  with  due  reverence — conscien- 
tiously. It  is  a work  of  good  omen. 

“ The  arrangement  of  the  chiaro-oscuro  is  a puzzle  to  my  understanding. 
I see  a circle  of  light  inclosing  a broad  mass  of  half  shadow.  In  this 
half  shadow  lies  the  pith  and  marrow  of  the  subjeCt-matter  of  this  com- 
position. He  who  prays — he  who  holds  the  sacred  volume — the  mother 
with  her  ailing  child — all  these  are  in  twilight,  while  the  evidence  and 
flash  of  day  are  reserved  for  figures  half  averted — piebald  silks,  and 
gleaming  armor,  with  other  objeCts  essentially  accessory. 

“If any  deep-laid  train  be  here  to  rouse  the  attention  and  chain  it  to 
the  important  features  of  this  page,  it  has  missed  its  objedt  with  me.  I 
long  to  haul  a sail  aside,  if  sail  it  be  that  makes  this  mischief,  and  let  in  a 
shaft  of  light  upon  that  prayerful  face.  I am  out  of  humor  with  that 
dress,  so  real,  which  mocks  my  desire  to  see  men.  The  armor  is  true 
Milan  steel.  The  men  are  foggy.  The  sail  is  real — the  maker  would 
swear  to  his  stitches.  The  hobnailed  shoes  are  so  newmnd  adtual  that  I 
smell  leather  as  I stand  there.  To  balance  the  execution,  the  hair  should 
be  less  conventional — the  flesh,  too,  more  transparent  and  life-like.  I see 
no  gleam  from  any  eye  in  all  that  company;  but  the  iron  ring  in  yonder 
foot  of  the  sail  twinkles  ambitiously.  This  inversion  of  the  true  law  of 
emphasis  is  unaccountable  to  me  in  this  master.  Had  I any  hope  of  in- 
fluencing him,  I would  beg  of  him,  while  yet  it  is  day,  to  modify  the  effect 
of  this  work.  If  I despaired  of  bringing  the  heads  and  hands  up  to  the 
still-life,  I would  put  the  latter  down,  not  only  in  light  but  in  elaboration 
and  illusion,  until  it  kept  its  place. 

“ Light  in  a composition  is  like  sound  and  emphasis  in  delivery.  You 
may  make  a figure  or  a group  tell  darkly  amid  a glare  for  certain  pur- 
poses ; not  when  the  nuances  of  physiognomy  and  emotion  are  essential. 
Awfully  have  I seen  in  a broad,  illuminated  group,  a cloud  darken  Judas 
as  he  rave  the  traitor  kiss  to  our  Lord.  The  masters  of  Venice  have 
more  than  once  succeeded  in  giving  to  figures  in  shadow  all  the  round- 
ness, glow,  and  reality  admitted  in  the  highest  light ; where  that  power 
of  pencil  is,  who  could  deny  the  right  quidlibet  audendi?  To  my  sense, 
here  are  figures  more  important  than  these  on  the  foreground,  which  are 
flat,  and  cold,  and  dim. 

“Who  can  doubt  that  Mr.  Weir,  had  he  lived  in  an  age  and  country 
where  art  was  prized,  would  have  wrought  many  great,  instead  of  this  one 
very  respectable  picture  ? I mean  for  the  government.” 

While  in  Plymouth,  making  studies  for  this  picture,  Weir  was  taken  to 
see  a bedridden  old  lady,  who  remembered  sitting  on  Elder  Faunce’s 


Weir. 


21  I 


knee, — who  had  seen  Peregrine  White,  the  first  white  child  born  in  the 
colony ; thus  the  artist  seemed  to  be  brought  direCtly  into  association  with 
the  “ Pilgrim  Fathers  ; ” he  made  a drawing  of  the  old  lady  with  chalk  and 
vermilion,  the  only  materials  then  obtainable  there, — on  the  top  of  a table. 
There  curious  encounters  with  the  past  through  family  or  local  association, 
are  among  the  singular  experiences  of  artist-life.  One  occurred  while  on 
a sketching  excursion  at  Toppan,  in  crossing  a field,  Weir  saw  a very  old 
man  hoeing;  entering  into  conversation  with  him,  he  remarked,  “ You  must 
remember  well  incidents  of  the  Revolutionary  war  ? ” “ Oh  ! yes,”  replied 

he,  scraping  his  hoe  on  an  adjacent  rock,  and  pointing  across  the  river,  “ I 
stood  on  that  stone  and  saw  Major  Andre  hung,  over  there.” 

Weir’s  isolated  position,  and  the  confinement  for  most  of  the  year  inci- 
dent to  his  office,  have  tended  for  some  time  past  to  keep  him  from  the 
public  eye.  Yet  a late  visit  to  his  studio  impressed  us  with  the  conviction 
that  there  are  few  of  our  resident  artists  to  whom  commissions  may  be  more 
satisfactorily  given.  Pie  is  less  interrupted  in  his  vocation,  and  his  atten- 
tion less  distraCted  than  is  the  case  with  metropolitan  limners.  His  port- 
folios are  rich  in  promising  designs,  from  which  most  desirable  selections 
for  finished  pictures  may  easily  be  chosen.  One  in  particular  struck  us  as 
most  happily  conceived.  It  represents  our  Saviour  and  the  two  disciples 
in  their  walk  to  Emmaus,  after  the  resurrection,  when  their  hearts  burned 
within  them,  as  he  talked  to  them  by  the  way.  The  postures  and  drapery 
of  the  three  figures  are  very  fine,  the  atmosphere  oriental,  the  heads  noble 
and  expressive  ; and,  what  stamps  the  design  with  beautiful  meaning,  there 
is  a most  impressive  contrast  between  the  lively,  quick,  and  intent  air  of 
the  disciples,  and  the  serene  abstraction  of  Jesus.  This  sketch  would  make 
either  an  interesting  cabinet  or  an  effieCtive  church  picture.  There  is  a 
Flemish  vein  in  Weir,  and  he  has  remarkable  taCt  in  managing  still-life. 
“ An  Old  Philosopher  showing  the  Microscope  to  two  Boys”  was  the  subjeCt 
of  a painting  on  his  easel,  which  evinced  his  ability  in  this  way  delightfully. 

His  “Child’s  Evening  Prayer,”  “Old  Merchant,”  and  “View  of  the 
Hudson  from  West  Point,”  are  in  the  possession  of  J.  Tuckerman,  Esq., 
of  New  York;  a duplicate  of  the  former,  and  “ Faith  holding  the  Sacra- 
mental Cup,”  belong  to  Jonathan  Sturgis,  Esq  , of  the  same  city  ; his  por- 
trait of  Governor  Thorpe,  is  in  the  City  Hall,  New  York  ; also  his  portrait 
of  Mayor  Lee ; “ Paestum  by  Moonlight,”  is  in  the  collection  of  J. 
Taylor  Johnston,  Esq.  ; “ A View  on  the  Hudson,”  in  that  of  R.  L.  Stuart, 
Esq.  ; and  “ Niagara  Falls,”  in  that  of  R.  Olyphant,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; 
“ A Pier  at  Venice,”  belongs  to  Henry  A.  Coit,  Esq. ; and  one  of  his  happiest 
efforts,  “ The  Greek  Girl”  and  “ La  Baretta,”  originally  belonged  to  the  late 
Philip  Hone,  Esq.  ; Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  has  his  fine  cabinet  repeti- 
tion of  the  “ Embarkation  of  the  Pilgrims  ; ” and  his  “ Rebecca,”  from 
“ Ivanhoe,”  belongs  to  the  estate  of  Robert  Gilmore,  Esq.,  of  Baltimore,  Md. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  incidents  in  Weir’s  career  at  home,  was  his 
painting  the  venerable  chief  of  the  Senecas.  A professional  gentleman,* 

* Dr.  J.  W.  Francis,  of  New  York. 


2 12 


American  Artist  Life. 

whose  patriotic  sympathies  were  ever  alive  to  the  interests  of  literature  and 
art.  had  been  much  attracted  by  the  expressive  visage  and  the  extraordinary 
cranium  that  rendered  the  person  of  Red  Jacket  so  eloquent  of  his  history  ; 
and  felt,  both  as  a philosopher  and  an  American,  how  desirable  it  was  to 
perpetuate  the  lineaments  of  the  old  forest  king.  Accordingly,  he  ingrati- 
ated himself  by  occasional  gifts  of  tobacco,  and  when  the  chief’ s friendship 
was  obtained,  induced  him  to  sit  to  Weir  for  his  portrait.  Special  models 
of  greater  utility  are  doubtless  obtainable  at  Rome  and  Florence— -a  broader 
chest  for  a Hercules,  a more  graceful  contour  for  an  Antinous,  and  a more 
venerable  head  for  a Saint  Peter  ; but  no  foreign  academy  could  furnish 
such  a noble  physique,  associated  with  circumstances  and  qualities  of  such 
peculiar  interest.  The  last  of  the  Senecas,  with  characteristic  yet  brave 
egotism,  when  complimented  upon  his  deeds  of  blood,  exclaimed — “ A 
warrior  ! I was  born  an  orator  ! ” When  denounced  in  early  life  by  a pro- 
phet, he  came  forward  at  a great  Indian  council,  and  by  his  powerful  elo- 
quence, in  a speech  of  three  hours,  turned  the  tide  of  popular  feeling  and 
triumphed  over  his  enemies.  He  drew  tears  from  his  audience  on  every 
occasion  when  he  depicted  the  wrongs  of  his  race,  and  was  eledted  from 
the  mere  influence  of  his  natural  gifts  chief  of  his  tribe — for,  according  to 
our  poet,*  whose  vivid  numbers  will  preserve  his  mental,  as  our  painter  has 
his  bodily  features,  he  possessed — 

“ The  monarch  mind — the  mystery  of  commanding — 

The  godlike  power — the  art  Napoleon, 

Of  winning,  fettering,  moulding,  wielding,  banding 
The  hearts  of  millions,  till  they  move  like  one.” 

He  determined  to  resist  civilization,  in  order  to  maintain  the  shadow  of 
power  and  individuality  that  his  nation  could  still  boast.  It  was  a vain 
though  a heroic  attempt.  By  jealously  opposing  the  trading,  missionary, 
and  even  friendly  association  of  the  whites,  by  advocating  the  rites  and 
glory  of  his  people,  and  keeping  fresh  in  their  memories  the  natural  dis- 
tinctions of  the  Indian,  he  trusted  to  postpone,  if  not  avert,  their  impend- 
ing ruin.  He  is  supposed  to  have  begun  his  career  as  a warrior  during 
the  Revolution.  General  Washington,  whom  the  chief  used  to  call  “the 
flower  of  the  forest,”  presented  him  with  a silver  medal,  which  he  never 
ceased  to  wear.  In  1812  he  took  part  in  several  warmly-contested  engage- 
ments ; and  after  a life  of  political  toil — savage  though  it  was — venerable 
from  years  and  fame,  the  champion  of  his  waning  tribe  both  in  council 
and  in  arms,  Red  Jacket  visited  the  Atlantic  cities  for  the  last  time  in 
1829,  and  was  the  objebt  of  general  attention.  His  bearing  was  still 
proud  and  his  step  firm  ; he  wore  his  forest  costume,  and  on  all  public 
occasions  was  mindful  of  the  dignity  appropriate  to  his  reputation.  He 
was  then  seventy  years  of  age,  and  his  death  soon  after  occurred  at  the 
Seneca  village  near  Buffalo.  His  funeral  was  largely  attended  and  his 
deeds  eloquently  rehearsed  by  his  survivors,  who  then  recalled  with  sad- 


* Halleck. 


Weir. 


* O T *2 

ness  his  own  prophetic  words — “ Who  shall  take  my  place  among  my 
people?”  The  sitting  of  Red  Jacket  to  Weir  would  have  afforded  no 
slight  material  for  the  speculative  observer  of  human  nature.  The  savage 
monarch,  whose  piercing  eye  beheld  the  gradual  but  certain  destruction 
of  his  race,  as  it  had  already  that  of  his  immediate  family,  always  entered 
the  artist’s  studio  with  his  suite,  dressed  in  all  the  finery  of  his  office;  his 
companions,  with  their  dark  faces  and  unrestrained  air,  threw  themselves 
carelessly  upon  the  floor,  and  smoked  their  pipes,  while  their  leader  ever 
and  anon  rose  from  his  seat  to  gaze  with  admiration  upon  the  growth  of 
the  portrait,  deigning  occasionally  a word  of  encouragement  to  the  painter. 
The  whole  scene  was  one  of  those  combinations  of  the  extremes  of  sav- 
age and  civilized  life — of  the  picturesque  and  the  conventional — of  the 
refinement  of  art  and  the  wildness  of  nature,  only  to  be  encountered  in 
this  country.  And  it  was  but  a kind  of  poetical  justice  thus  to  snatch  an 
aboriginal  exemplar  from  oblivion,  and  for  bard  and  limner  to  join  in  en- 
shrining the  name  of  Red  Jacket  in  human  remembrance,  as  a specimen 
of  Indian  character,  one  distinguishing  trait  of  which  he  so  remarkably 
exemplified — the  union  of  outward  calmness  and  indifference  of  aspect 
with  tumultuous  passions  : — 


“With  look,  like  patient  Job’s,  eschewing  evil  ; 
With  motions  graceful  as  a bird’s  in  air, 

Thou  art  in  sober  truth  the  veriest  devil 

That  e’er  clenched  fingers  in  a captive’s  hair. 


“ And  underneath  that  face,  like  summer  ocean’s, 

Its  lip  as  moveless  and  its  cheek  as  clear, 
Slumbers  a whirlwind  of  the  earth’s  emotions — 
Love,  hatred,  pride,  hope,  sorrow — all  save  fear.” 


Weir  excels  in  cabinet  genre  pictures.  We  recall  one  representing  a 
child  saying  its  evening  prayer  at  its  grandmother’s  knee — a most  grace- 
ful, simple,  expressive  little  work — the  still-life  of  Flemish  authenticity. 
Some  of  his  landscapes  and  portraits  are  excellent,  and  among  his  latest 
and  most  characteristic  pictures  is  “ The  Taking  of  the  Veil.” 

Early  in  the  winter  of  1826  great  interest  was  excited  among  the  no- 
bility and  foreign  residents  at  Rome  by  the  announcement  that  Catrina, 
the  young  and  beautiful  daughter  of  the  Lorenzana  family,  was  about  to 
enter  upon  her  novitiate,  preparatory  to  taking  monastic  vows  in  the 
Ursuline  convent.  The  ceremony  attending  this  aCt,  as  is  well  known,  is 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  and  affeCting  in  the  whole  range  of  the  Ro- 
man Catholic  ritual,  and  when  the  subjeCt  of  these  holy  vows  is  young 
and  fair,  and  of  high  social  position,  the  occasion  is  anticipated  and  at- 
tended with  no  ordinary  emotions  of  curiosity  and  sympathy. 

Among  those  who  were  attracted  to  the  church  of  San  Giuseppe  on  this 
occasion  was  our  countryman  Robert  W.  Weir,  then  studying  his  art  at 
Rome,  and  domiciled  with  his  friend  Horatio  Greenough,  to  whom  he  had 
been  a faithful  nurse  during  a long  and  painful  illness.  The  novel  effeCt 


214 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  the  scene,  its  beauty  of  grouping  and  light,  deepened  by  the  pathos 
and  piety  which  it  naturally  excited,  made  a strong  impression  on  the 
young  American  artist,  and  he  carefully  sketched  it  on  the  spot,  re- 
solved, when  better  equipped  for  such  an  experiment,  to  reproduce  it 
on  canvas. 

He  began  the  picture  several  years  ago,  and  has  worked  upon  it  at 
intervals  since,  but  only  within  a few  years  has  he  found  time  and  incli- 
nation to  put  the  finishing  touches  to  a work  which,  we  think,  in  an  artistic 
point  of  view,  is  the  best  of  his  productions.  He  calls  the  picture  “The 
Taking  of  the  Veil.”  It  is  of  what  is  called  cabinet  size,  and  represents, 
with  remarkable  architectural  truth  and  effect,  the  altar,  choir,  and  part  of 
the  nave  of  the  church  o'f  St.  Joseph.  So  correCt  is  the  drawing,  so  ex- 
cellent the  finish  of  the  details,  so  fine  the  aerial  prospective,  and  so  real 
the  whole  impression,  that  the  spedtator  has  but  to  exclude  surrounding 
objects  from  his  vision,  and  gaze  earnestly  and  exclusively  at  the  pidture, 
to  imagine  that  he  hears  the  low  music  of  a chant  and  inhales  the  odor  of 
incense.  A few  steps  from  the  crimson  canopy  of  the  altar  stands  the 
Cardinal  Bishop,  of  a tall  stature  and  venerable  and  devout  mien,  arrayed 
in  mitre  and  robe,  casting  the  white  veil  over  the  beautiful  head  and  figure 
bowed  before  him  ; her  graceful  attitude,  sweet  and  solemn  expression, 
and  bridal  array,  win  sympathy  at  a glance  ; just  behind  and  on  one  side 
stands  the  officiating  priest,  bareheaded  and  in  a white  surplice,  with  be- 
nign countenance  and  a look  of  softened  age,  about  to  lay  upon  her  virgin 
brow  a garland  of  roses  ; one  young  acolyte  holds  up  the  skirt  of  the 
Bishop’s  robe,  another  holds  a lighted  taper,  and  another  swings  a censer. 
Near  the  kneeling  novice  is  the  mother,  by  her  looks  and  attitude  prayer- 
fully giving  her  child  to  God’s  service  and  Christ’s  house.  In  the  back- 
ground a tall  ecclesiastic  uplifts  the  cross  ; high  over  their  heads,  far  down 
the  nave,  are  the  organ  and  gallery  filled  with  choristers  ; without  the  altar 
railing  kneel  and  gaze  a crowd  of  spectators,  peasant  and  noble,  lady  and 
domestic,  strangers  and  kindred  ; a statue  of  Faith  rises  in  the  centre  ; on 
the  top  of  the  distant  organ,  dimly  defined  in  the  twilight,  may  be  traced 
a little  group  evidently  designed  in  compliment  to  Greenough’s  Chanting 
Cherubs  ; a light  mist  hangs  round  the  vaulted  roof  and  clings  thinly  to 
the  massive  pillars  ; athwart  the  scene  falls  a glow  of  radiance  through 
the  stained  glass  windows  ; and  over  the  marble  floor  are  scattered  roses 
and  myrtle  leaves.  As  the  picture  was  arranged  at  Goupil’s  gallery — seen 
in  a hushed  and  darkened  room, — it  transports  us,  by  magic,  to  Italy,  and 
the  contrast  of  light  and  associations,  when  fresh  from  Broadway,  fairly 
charms  the  imaginative  spectator,  and  laps  his  senses  in  tranquil  refresh- 
ment ; the  piclure  is  historically  suggestive,  and  there  is  a mellowness  and 
maturity  in  its  execution,  and  an  exquisite  truth  and  harmony  in  its  effeCt, 
which  give  a new  and  most  pleasing  idea  of  the  artist’s  skill,  grace,  and 
sensibility. 

Weir’s  professional  duties  at  the  United  States  Military  Academy  were 
sadly  interrupted  in  the  winter  of  1866  by  an  organic  disease,  from  which 


Weir.  2 1 5 

he  was  relieved  in  the  early  part  of  the  following  year  through  the  surgi- 
cal skill  of  Dr.  Van  Buren  ; and  he  returned,  in  June,  comparatively  re- 
established in  health,  to  West  Point, — where  the  picturesque  little  church 
of  the  “ Holy  Innocents,”  eredted  chiefly  through  his  efforts,  is  a beauti- 
ful memorial  of  his  religious  sympathies. 


CHAPMAN. 


HERE  is  an  old  house  at  Albano,  near  the  lake,  that  has 
been  used  from  time  immemorial  by  artists  who  frequent 
the  vicinity  as  an  inn,  although  it  makes  no  pretensions  to 
the  character.  The  successive  families,  or  rather  genera- 
tions to  the  same  family,  who  have  occupied  the  domicil, 
do  their  best  to  make  the  guests  comfortable,  and  it  is  a 
piece  of  traditional  wisdom  to  let  them  have  their  own  way.  The  freaks, 
convivialities,  Indian  talks,  and  continental  extravaganzas  resulting  from 
so  liberal  a rule,  may  be  easily  imagined.  Doubtless  if  the  old  walls  could 
speak,  the  tales  they  might  unfold  would  equal  the  “ Decameron  ” in  the 
richness  of  their  flavor,  and  “Boz”  in  humorous  zest.  As  it  is,  they  are 
not  altogether  silent,  being  covered  with  all  kinds  of  sketches,  impromptu 
landscapes,  and  grotesque  portraits — the  hasty  but  suggestive  autographs 
of  the  long  train  of  visitors  who  have  stolen  thither  from  the  studios  and 
galleries  of  the  Eternal  City,  for  a month’s  villegiatura , or  a day’s  pic- 
nic. One  fine  spring  afternoon  a knot  of  these  graphic  adventurers  were 
inspecting  the  several  designs,  with  more  curiosity  than  reverence,  when 
a young  American  of  the  party  drew  the  attention  of  his  companions  to  a 
female  head,  the  exquisite  beauty  of  which  at  once  changed  their  sportive 
comments  to  earnest  admiration.  The  host  was  summoned,  and  in  answer 
to  their  inquiries  offered  to  show  them  the  original.  With  high-wrought 
expectations  they  followed  him  to  a neighboring  farm-house,  and  beheld 
an  infirm,  silver-haired  woman  of  eighty  or  ninety  propped  up  in  an  arm- 
chair. They  looked  at  their  guide  incredulously,  but  all  present  confirmed 
his  assertion.  It  seems  that  sixty  years  before,  a German  youth — one  of 
the  most  promising  students  of  the  Roman  Academy — had  roamed  thither, 
like  themselves,  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  of  the  hills,  and  enrich  his  scrap- 
book with  views  of  the  lake.  The  decrepit  creature  before  them  was  at 
that  period  a beautiful  girl,  the  very  one  so  sweetly  portrayed  on  the  walls 
of  the  venerable  dwelling  they  had  just  left,  of  which  her  father  was 
proprietor.  The  ardent  boy  from  the  Rhine  had  not  finished  his  sketch 
before  he  found  himself  deeply  in  love.  In  a few  weeks  he  married  her; 
they  established  themselves  at  Rome,  and  six  months  after,  he  was  stabbed 
one  evening  near  his  own  door.  The  fair  being  whose  dream  of  happi- 
ness was  thus  horribly  broken,  returned  to  Albano,  and  never  left  the 


Chapman . 


21  7 


farm-house  or  was  seen  to  smile,  from  that  hour.  Such  is  one  of  the 
anecdotes  of  Chapman’s  sojourn  abroad.  It  is  interesting  as  indicative 
of  the  romantic  associations  which  so  often  invest  the  life  of  an  artist,  and 
to  which  their  unconstrained  habits  and  affinity  with  all  that  is  picturesque 
and  adventurous  are  so  favorable.  Arrayed  in  the  goatskin  and  untanned 
shoes  of  a peasant,  Chapman  and  his  comrades  wandered  over  the  greater 
part  of  Calabria.  Every  well-defined  outline  in  the  mountain  ranges,  each 
graceful  shrine,  the  effective  attitude  of  monk  or  vintager,  the  tower  of  the 
middle  ages,  the  isolated  cornice  or  pillar,  whose  true  proportions  survive 
the  corrosion  of  time  ; the  vine-laced  terrace  or  the  rocky  headland, 
afforded  an  idea  or  illustrated  an  effect  which  they  sketched  for  future 
use  ; while  cloud  and  breeze,  storm  and  sunshine  were  ever  around,  invit- 
ing them  to  study,  in  a loving  mood,  that  wondrous  and  inexhaustible 
Nature  which  is  the  source  and  inspiration  of  all  that  is  true  and  lasting 
in  the  trophies  of  art.  It  is  astonishing  how  materials  multiply  to  the 
observant  eye  ; and  the  very  by-ways  furnish  pictures  for  the  artist  and 
lessons  for  the  moralist.  We  remember  one  among  many  of  Chapman’s 
memoranda  of  this  pilgrimage,  which  conveys  a sweeter  hint  to  the 
imagination  than  half  the  elaborate  compositions  that  crowd  the  canvas. 
It  represents  an  old  man,  in  the  garb  of  a pilgrim,  asleep  beside  the  road, 
his  head  resting  in  his  daughter’s  lap,  who  sits  under  a tree,  and  as  the 
sun  approaches  the  horizon,  shades  his  beams  with  her  hand  from  the 
father’s  eyes.  The  aCtion  is  simple  and  effective,  and  as  thus  caught  by 
the  passing  artist,  makes  as  natural  a vigil  of  love  as  poet  or  painter 
could  wish. 

De  Tocqueville  observed  that  in  science  Americans  seek  the  immediate. 
The  remark  is  equally  true,  in  no  small  degree,  of  art.  Even  ideal  pur- 
suits are  wrested  into  the  service  of  utility,  in  a country  where  the  good 
of  the  greatest  number  is  so  earnestly  proposed.  There  is  a tendency  to 
make  art  and  literature  subservient  to  temporary  ends,  and  render  them 
popular  agents,  which  few  men  whose  lot  is  cast  in  this  republic  can  resist. 
Nor  is  it  always  desirable  they  should  ; for,  although  elaborate  works  are 
not  as  likely  to  be  created,  it  is  no  ignoble  office  to  take  an  efficient  part, 
either  as  a writer  or  an  artist,  in  the  education  of  the  people.  In  the  Old 
World  art  is  a luxury,  but  one  open  to  the  enjoyment  of  all.  It  is  no  un- 
common thing  to  see  a beggar  and  a prince  contemplating  the  same  statue 
in  the  Vatican,  while  architecture  and  music  in  their  highest  forms  are  still 
more  accessible.  In  this  country,  where  no  such  facilities  are  enjoyed,  art 
necessarily  takes  a popular  form,  and  cheap  literature  answers  instead  of 
public  libraries.  Necessity,  too,  obliges  the  artist  and  litterateur  to  con- 
sult the  immediate  ; and  those  who  in  Europe  would  have  been  engaged 
for  years  on  a philosophical  work  or  an  historical  painting,  become  in 
America  writers  of  newspaper  paragraphs  and  magazine  articles,  and  por- 
trait-painters, or  illustrators  of  annuals.  Thus,  as  in  many  other  ways,  the 
individual  is  sacrificed  to  the  many.  He  seldom  leaves  an  adequate  or 
tangible  monument  of  his  genius  behind  him  ; his  mind  has  been  diffused 


218 


American  Artist  Life . 


in  its  career  over  a wide  space,  and  has  exerted  a quickening  rather  than 
a permanent  influence  ; his  labors  have  met  the  exigency  of  the  hour,  and 
been  tributary  to  the  great  stream  of  intellectual  life  that  fertilizes  the  broad 
arena  of  republican  industry.  The  energy  of  his  mind,  to  use  an  expres- 
sion of  the  author  before  quoted,  has  been  more  animated  than  dignified 
in  its  development,  and  he  has  been  compelled,  as  it  were,  to  do  his  fellow- 
beings  more  justice  than  himself.  How  far  it  is  well  for  Art  thus  to  adapt 
herself  to  the  temporary,  is,  indeed,  a great  question.  We  know  that  her 
loftiest  results  can  only  be  obtained  through  that  individuality  of  purpose 
and  feeling,  which  is  one  of  the  distinctions  between  genius  and  talent  ; 
and  there  are  men  so  endowed  that,  like  Michael  Angelo  and  Milton,  they 
must  be  true  to  themselves,  or  be  guilty  of  apostasy  from  what  is  most  dear 
and  noble  in  humanity.  This,  however,  need  not  prevent  us  from  regard- 
ing with  complacency  the  labors  of  those  who  have  made  the  arts  of  design 
instruments  of  common  good,  who  have  disseminated  ideas  of  the  beauti- 
ful, and  illustrated  the  popular  taste. 

This  train  of  reflection  is  very  naturally  suggested  by  the  name  of  so 
popular  an  artist  as  Chapman.  He  does  not  remember  the  time  when  he 
did  not  sketch  ; and  as  this  native  readiness  continued  to  display  itself,  he 
determined  to  adopt  the  profession  of  a painter,  and  after  some  preliminary 
study,  went  abroad  to  carry  on  his  education.  From  the  superior  copies 
he  executed  in  Italy  of  such  pictures  as  Guido’s  “ Aurora”  and  Titian’s 
“ Flora,”  it  was  evident  at  once  that  he  had  not  mistaken  his  vocation. 
Many  of  his  subsequent  works  are  distinguished  by  felicity  of  design  and 
brilliancy  of  coloring.  They  are  so  various  in  kind,  from  the  simple  rural 
to  the  elaborate  fancy  composition,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  designate 
them  under  any  one  term.  The  point,  however,  mainly  characteristic  of 
Chapman  as  an  artist,  is  his  facility  in  drawing,  and  we  know  of  no  indivi- 
dual who  so  rarely  combines  mechanical  ingenuity  with  artistic  taste.  He 
is  familiar  with  all  the  processes  of  the  artisan  as  well  as  those  of  the  artist ; 
now  at  work  on  a mezzotint  and  now  on  a woodcut ; to-day  casting  an  iron 
medallion,  and  to-morrow  etching  on  steel ; equally  at  home  at  the  turning- 
lathe  and  the  easel,  and  as  able  to  subdue  plaster  and  bronze,  as  oils  and 
crayons,  to  his  uses.  Perhaps  it  is  from  his  acquaintance  with  so  varied 
a range  of  operations  that  Chapman  owes  his  intelligent  sympathy  with 
mechanics.  As  a class  he  thinks  them  the  most  original  and  deserving 
among  the  people  ; and  when  we  remember  how  many  useful  inventions 
have  sprung  from  their  ingenuity  in  America,  and  the  thoroughly  respec- 
table social  position  they  have  acquired,  it  is  singular  that  their  claims  have 
been  so  seldom  recognized.  Chapman  once  conceived  a very  happy 
manner  of  indicating  the  real  importance  of  their  labors  in  a series  of 
graphic  illustrations  of  Whittier’s  “ Songs  of  Labor.”  The  artist  and  poet, 
by  mutually  extending  the  design,  might  readily  execute  a work  that  would 
be  vastly  popular  and  highly  creditable. 

Color  is  apt  to  fascinate  the  inexperienced  at  the  expense  of  drawing, 
and  few  really  admire  the  cartoons  of  Raphael  compared  to  the  number 


Chapman. 


219 


who  are  enchanted  by  the  splendid  hues  of  the  Venetian  school.  On  this 
subjedt  a late  writer  justly  observes — “ A finished  work  of  a great  artist  is 
only  better  than  its  sketch,  if  the  sources  of  pleasure  belonging  to  color 
and  chiaro-oscuro  are  so  employed  as  to  increase  the  impressiveness  of  the 
thought.  But  if  one  atom  of  thought  has  vanished,  all  color,  all  finish,  all 
execution,  all  ornament,  are  too  dearly  bought.”  Such  is  the  essential  im- 
portance of  drawing,  as  the  alphabet  of  expression.  How  desirable  is  a 
mastery  over  such  an  element  of  art ! Without  considering  what  it  may 
be  to  the  artist  as  means  of  pleasure,  as  a language  it  is  invaluable.  There 
is  reason  for  its  becoming  more  and  more,  as  is  the  case,  a branch  of  lib- 
eral culture.  It  is  true . that  progress  beyond  a certain  point  in  drawing 
seems  very  dependent  on  organization  ; and  we  know  of  no  better  test 
whereby  to  decide  between  imitation  and  originality  of  mind,  than  the  use 
made  of  this  vehicle  of  expression,  when  once  acquired.  But  its  early  and 
corredt  acquisition,  the  education  of  the  hand  and  eye,  is  the  first  step  in 
an  artist’s  course.  It  is  true  that  when  this  mastery  is  attained  there  must 
be  feeling  and  intelligence  to  inform  it  with  meaning,  otherwise  it  is  of  no 
more  efficiency  than  skill  in  the  use  of  weapons  to  the  soldier  who  is  desti- 
tute of  the  valor  to  wield  them  in  battle.  Yet  the  pencil  is  ever  a delight- 
ful resource.  How  it  cheers  the  languid  hours  of  the  invalid,  and  what  a 
graceful  pastime  it  affords  the  social  circle  ! To  an  imaginative  traveller  it 
is  a means  of  preserving  such  effedtive  hints  of  scenes  he  explored  with 
enthusiasm,  that  in  after  years  his  portfolio  becomes  the  sibylline  leaves 
of  memory,  any  one  of  which  excites  far-spreading  and  vivid  associations. 
Happy  the  art  that  can  thus 

“ arrest  the  fleeting  images 

That  fill  the  mirror  of  the  mind,  and  hold 
Them  fast.” 


Chapman  has  prepared  a work  designed  to  simplify  the  teaching  of  draw- 
ing. These  manuals  hitherto  have  been  written  by  mere  teachers,  whose  in- 
terest rendered  it  undesirable  to  unfold  very  clearly  all  the  mysteries  of  the 
subjedt  ; and  treatises  on  perspective,  as  a general  rule,  do  not  impart  any 
adequate  pradtical  knowledge.  The  work  in  question  is  philosophical  in 
design,  and  brings  out  the  whole  subjedt,  from  its  simplest  to  its  most  com- 
plex relations,  illustrating  the  process  at  every  stage  with  great  felicity. 
It  cannot  fail  to  be  eminently  useful,  and  will  serve  as  a standard  authority 
in  this  department  of  education. 

The  studio  of  Chapman  in  New  York  used  to  be  very  artist-like.  We 
always  think  of  Jonathan  Oldbuck,  upon  entering  such  an  apartment,  and 
feel  vexed  at  the  idea  of  its  elegant  confusion  being  formalized  by  “ the 
womankind.”  It  would  be  a treat  for  a rainy  evening,  to  draw  together  the 
two  nice  arm-chairs  before  the  grate,  and  look  over  those  portfolios  with  the 
right  kind  of  companion.  Imagine  the  thing.  No  sound  but  an  occasional 
crackle  of  the  coal  disturbs  the  quietude.  Above  the  mantel-piece  hangs  a 
suit  of  armor,  perhaps  worn  by  John  de’  Medici,  for  Chapman  bought  it  in 


220 


American  Artist  Life. 


Florence,  and  it  corresponds  with  the  array  of  that  dark  chieftain,  as  re- 
presented in  his  portrait.  Whoever  has  seen  the  picture  will  not  fail  to 
remember  it.  The  face  is  like  Napoleon,  and  along  the  projecting  points 
of  the  steel-clad  figure  glimmers  the  light,  as  it  does  at  this  moment,  on  the 
mail  overhead.  What  associations  does  that  one  objedt  awaken  ! — the 
middle  ages,  with  their  pomp  and  feuds,  chivalric  devotedness,  the  tourna- 
ment, Palestine,  Richard  of  the  Lion- heart,  Ivanhoe,  Sir  Walter,  and  his 
hall  at  Abbotsford  ! The  books  on  the  table  in  the  corner  look  singularly 
inviting; — not  stiffly  ranged  on  shelves,  like  symbols  of  pedantry,  but  lying 
here  and  there,  as  if  waiting  to  be  taken  up.  There  is  a deerskin  and  ant- 
lers, to  waken  thoughts  of  woodland  freedom,  and  blue  lakes  ; and  fine 
casts  from  the  antique,  to*  stir  memories  of  the  Vatican.  You  glance  around 
with  a feeling  of  self-respect,  for  the  emblems  of  genius  and  beauty  suggest 
thoughts  of  heroism  and  joy.  With  a more  noble  interest  you  turn  from 
that  spirited  sketch  in  your  hand.  That  unfinished  little  scene  on  the 
easel,  he  calls  “ On  the  Fence,  or  Town  and  Country.”  A fair  maiden  is 
seated  upon  the  rail ; on  one  side  stands  a rustic  youth,  on  the  other  a city 
loafer.  Their  respective  dogs  are  quite  characteristic.  Which  of  the 
suitors  will  carry  the  day  ? That  is  the  very  question  in  process  of  solu- 
tion. How  plainly  it  appears  ! Besides  the  excellent  landscapes,  to  many 
of  which  an  historical  interest  is  attached,  what  a number  of  admirable 
copies  from  valuable  originals.  There  is  Rembrandt,  Rubens,  and  Sir 
Joshua  ; —and  Columbus,  with  his  white  hair  and  thoughtful  visage,  looking 
the  devoted  pilgrim  of  vast  and  unexplored  seas, — the  patient  and  lonely 
enthusiast.  Well  contrasted  with  him  are  the  intelligent,  practical  features 
of  old  Peter  Stuyvesant,  more  like  those  of  a wise  cardinal  than  a Dutch 
Governor. 

Chapman  was  indefatigable  ; early  and  late  he  was  at  work,  and  seemed 
to  overcome  fatigue  rather  by  changing  his  occupation  than  abstaining 
from  labor.  The  booksellers  constantly  employed  him  in  illustrating 
Bibles,  histories,  poems,  and  even  grammars.  At  intervals,  he  made  in- 
genious toys  for  his  children,  attended  a club-meeting,  or  went  up  the 
Hudson  to  rusticate  and  fish.  Like  most  artists  of  ready  talent,  he  has 
an  eye  for  the  humorous.  One  hot  August  day  a party  of  his  friends, 
including  several  ladies,  made  an  excursion  on  the  Potomac,  from  which, 
through  accident  or  wisdom,  he  chose  to  abstain.  When  they  reached 
the  middle  of  the  river,  their  boat  was  stranded  by  the  falling  tide,  and 
left  high — but  not  dry — on  an  extensive  mud-flat,  of  such  a consistency 
that  to  tread  upon  it  was  to  risk  suffocation.  The  hapless  passengers  had 
no  alternative  but  to  remain  exposed  to  the  intense  heat  of  a Virginia 
sun,  without  refreshment  or  shelter  of  any  kind,  and  devoured  by  mosqui- 
toes, until  evening,  when  the  rising  water  enabled  them  to  land.  Chap- 
man stood  comfortably  on  the  umbrageous  banks  of  the  river,  and  made 
such  an  admirable  sketch  of  the  affair,  that  the  “ party  of  pleasure  ” found 
when  they  came  on  shore  that  their  awkward  mishap  was  not  likely  soon 
to  be  forgotten. 


Chapman. 


221 


John  Gadsby  Chapman  is  a native  of  Alexandria,  Va.  He  exhibited, 
when  quite  young,  a decided  talent  for  design,  and  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
enjoy  an  early  opportunity  to  study,  under  great  advantages,  being  fur- 
nished with  the  means  to  reside  several  years  in  Italy  ; returning  to 
America  highly  accomplished  in  many  of  the  requisites  of  piCtorial  art,  he 
opened  his  studio  in  the  city  of  New  York,  where  he  was  lucratively  em- 
ployed in  portrait-painting,  composition,  fancy  heads  and  figures,  and 
illustrative  designs.  Among  the  latter  may  be  mentioned  his  popular 
drawings  for  Harper’s  Illustrated  Bible,  and  Schmidt’s  Tales.  He  painted 
as  a government  commission,  for  the  Rotunda  of  the  Capitol,  “ The  Bap- 
tism of  Pocahontas,”  and  is  the  author  and  illustrator  of  one  of  the  most 
complete  and  beautiful  Drawing-Books  ever  published.  In  1848  Chapman 
returned  to  Rome,  where  he  has  since  resided ; and,  besides  many  charac- 
teristic pictures,  has  executed  several  admirable  copies  of  famous  originals, 
and  found  constant  and  profitable  occupation  for  leisure  intervals,  in 
etching,  with  grace  and  truth,  favorite  local  subjects — especially  Italian 
peasants — cherished  souvenirs  of  countless  American  and  English  trav- 
ellers. His  vivid  coloring  and  facility  of  execution  enable  him  to  profita- 
bly supply  visitors  at  Rome  with  local  illustrations,  and  his  talent  seems 
to  be  inherited  by  his  son,  who  is  aCtive  and  successful  in  the  same  sphere. 
Chapman’s  “Israelites  Spoiling  the  Egyptians,”  “Etruscan  Girl,”  and 
“ A Donkey’s  Head,”  are  in  the  collection  of  Jonathan  Sturgis,  Esq.,  of 
New  York  ; his  “Rachel”  belongs  to  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  the 
same  city;  his  copies  of  “Teniers”  and  “ Mentz,”  to  the  Boston  Athe- 
naeum ; “ The  Last  Arrow  ” to  Mr.  McGuire  of  Baltimore,  Md.  ; his 
“ Pifferini,”  and  “ First  Italian  Milestone,”  to  James  Lenox,  Esq.,  of  New 
York.  A recent  letter  from  Rome  thus  alludes  to  the  pictures  in  Chap- 
man’s studio : — 

“There  are  a large  and  fine  picture  of  the  ‘Valley  of  Mexico,'  display- 
ing the  mountain  ranges  and  the  city,  which  are  the  house  of  the  Ameri- 
can ‘sick  man,’  whose  complaint  differs  from  that  of  his  relative  in 
Europe,  in  being  of  the  frantic  and  delirious  rather  than  of  the  somno- 
lescent  type  ; a ‘ Sunset  on  the  Campagna,’  very  rich  in  coloring,  the 
higher  clouds  perhaps  a trifle  hard  ; a ‘ Harvest  Scene,’  also  on  the  Cam- 
pagna, full  of  bright  light  and  life,  and  of  the  expression  of  Italian  cus- 
toms and  character  centuries  behind  the  age  ; a brilliant  ‘Vintage  Scene  ;’ 
a group  of  ‘ Stone  Pines  in  the  Barberini  Valley,’  fine  in  perspective,  and 
in  what  I must  venture  to  term  silent  color,  the  light  which  sleeps,  as  it 
were,  on  every  objeCt  in  a still  summer  noon  ; ‘Views  out  of  the  Porta 
Salara  and  over  the  Lake  of  Albano.’  ” 

We  have  alluded  to  the  utility,  in  such  a country  as  our  own,  of  diversi- 
fied labors  like  those  which,  for  the  most  part,  employ  this  artist.  It  is  to 
be  regretted  that  others  reap  so  unfair  a proportion  of  the  gains  incident 
to  such  industry.  In  many  cases,  works  that  owe  their  circulation  almost 
entirely  to  the  illustrations,  have  brought  great  returns  to  the  publishers, 
who  have  allowed  the  merest  stipend  to  the  artist.  In  such  cases  the 


222 


American  Artist  Life . 


latter  is  justly  entitled  to  a copyright  remuneration.  A single  instance 
of  the  manner  in  which  a popular  design  may  be  appropriated,  occurs  in 
regard  to  that  of  the  “Landing  of  Columbus,”  by  Chapman.  It  was 
originally  sketched  for  a drop-curtain,  and  then  furnished  as  a vignette 
for  a newspaper  for  sixty- five  dollars.  In  a few  months  it  was  reproduced 
in  a London  work,  on  bandboxes  in  the  Bowery,  in  a tableau  at  the 
Olympic,  and  as  a heading  to  the  diplomas  of  the  Madrid  Historical 
Society. 


COLE. 


EW  native  localities  are  more  endeared  to  the  lovers  of 
scenery  where  beauty  and  grandeur  are  happily  combined, 
than  the  Catskill  mountains.  The  view,  indeed,  from  the 
lofty  plain  called  Pine  Orchard,  whither  enervated  citizens 
repair  in  summer,  has  been  deemed  too  extensive  for  defi- 
nite impression.  Yet  it  is  impossible  to  look  abroad  on  a 
clear  day,  from  that  glorious  observatory  of  Nature,  without  a thrill  of 
delight.  The  noble  Hudson  winds,  like  a silver  thread,  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach,  and  countless  meadows,  groves,  and  villages  are  spread  out  like 
a vast  chart,  eloquently  significant  of  natural  productiveness  and  human 
well-being.  Fleecy  clouds,  of  mottled  gold  or  saffron,  pass  below  the 
spectator,  and  cast  their  moving  shadows  upon  ravine  and  hillside.  A 
pure  and  cordial  air  plays  gratefully  around  him  ; and  near  by  are  the  fine 
cascades  of  the  Katerskill,  a mountain  stream  fed  by  two  diminutive  lakes 
higher  up  the  range.  Nestled  near  the  river,  and  about  twelve  miles  from 
this  favorite  point  of  view,  is  the  town  of  Catskill,  the  vicinity  of  which 
was  long  the  residence  of  Cole.  We  can  imagine  no  more  desirable 
home  in  the  country  for  a landscape-painter.  The  variety  of  mountain, 
stream,  foliage,  and  sky  ever  offered  to  his  observation,  furnish  exhaust- 
less materials  for  study  ; and  he  is  doubtless  indebted  in  no  small  measure 
for  his  acknowledged  fidelity  to  nature,  to  these  familiar  opportunities. 

“The  Catskill,  Katskill,  or  Cat  River  mountains,”  says  Irving,  “derived 
their  name  in  the  time  of  the  Dutch  domination,  from  the  catamounts, 
with  which  they  were  infested.  The  interior  of  these  mountains  is  in  the 
highest  degree  wild  and  romantic  ; here  are  rocky  precipices  mantled  with 
primeval  forests  ; deep  gorges  walled  in  by  beetling  cliffs,  with  torrents 
tumbling  as  it  were  from  the  sky  ; and  savage  glens  rarely  trodden  except 
by  the  hunter.  With  all  this  internal  rudeness,  the  aspeCt  of  these 
mountains  toward  the  Hudson,  is  eminently  bland  and  beautiful.  The 
Catskills  form  an  advanced  post  or  lateral  spur  of  the  great  Alleghanian 
or  Appalachian  system  of  mountains,  which  sweeps  from  Alabama  to  the 
extremity  of  Maine.  They  are  epitomes  of  our  variable  climate,  and 
stamped  with  all  its  vicissitudes.  In  summer,  during  the  heat  of  the  day, 
they  almost  melt  into  a sultry  haze  ; as  the  day  declines  they  deepen  in 
tone  ; their  summits  are  brightened  by  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun, 


224 


American  Artist  Life. 

and  later  in  the  evening  their  whole  outline  is  printed  in  deep  purple 
against  an  amber  sky.  The  Indian  superstitions  concerning  the  treasury 
of  storms  and  sunshine,  and  the  cloud-weaving  spirits  may  have  been  sug- 
gested by  the  atmospheric  phenomena  of  these  mountains.” 

In  the  course  of  these  papers  we  have  had  occasion  to  note  that  vicissi- 
tude seems  to  mark  the  early  career  of  artists.  The  same  fadt  is  true  of 
Cole.  He  was  brought  to  America  while  a child,  as  was  the  case  with 
Leslie,  by  English  parents  who  sought  to  revive  their  crushed  fortunes  in 
the  New  World.  His  father  established  a paper-hanging  manufactory  in 
Ohio,  and  it  was  by  designing  and  combining  the  pigments  in  this  estab- 
lishment, that  the  son  learned  the  rudiments  of  his  art.  He  also  had  his 
day-dreams  in  the  magnificent  woods  that  skirted  the  Ohio  ; he  read,  and 
dallied  somewhat  with  music,  until  his  young  spirit  awakened,  and  this 
isolated  life  adting  upon  a sensitive  temperament,  rendered  him  so  keenly 
alive  to  impressions,  that  he  declares  he  could  hear  his  heart  beat  in  the 
presence  of  people  neither  distinguished  nor  talented.  At  length  a portrait- 
painter  came  to  the  obscure  village  where  he  lived,  and  soon  initiated  him 
into  a higher  sphere  of  art  than  he  had  yet  attempted  ; so  that  one  frosty 
morning,  he  started  off,  like  Goldsmith,  with  his  flute,  his  palette,  brushes, 
and  a little  clothing  in  a green  bag,  and  played  his  way  over  many  a weary 
league,  eating  his  crust  by  the  road-side  brook.  His  father  soon  entered 
upon  a new  species  of  business,  where  his  services  were  again  required  ; 
but  from  time  to  time,  he  prosecuted  his  art — studying  the  pidturesque 
along  the  Monongahela,  wandering  in  cold  and  heat  among  the  Allegha- 
nies,  and  thus  inuring  a frame  naturally  delicate  to  exposure  and  depriva- 
tion. Finally  he  made  his  way  to  Philadelphia,  and  was  bewildered  by  his 
first  view  of  the  trophies  of  art  at  the  Academy  in  that  city.  From  paint- 
ing bellows,  and  a transparency  to  celebrate  Lafayette’s  arrival  at  the 
Quaker  metropolis,  he  came  to  New  York,  and  set  up  his  easel  in  a garret. 
But  here  Durand  and  Trumbull  appreciated  his  talents.  His  views  of 
the  Hudson  charmed  some  wealthy  Knickerbockers,  and  Cole  received 
substantial  encouragement.  Besides  two  eminently  profitable  visits  to  Eu- 
rope, he  afterwards  followed  his  art  at  home,  with  unremitting  assiduity 
and  distinguished  success.  When  his  autumnal  landscapes  were  first  seen 
in  England,  their  gorgeous  hues  were  regarded  as  an  extravagant  Yankee 
invention,  so  unaware  were  foreign  amateurs  of  the  brilliant  freaks  of  the 
early  frost  on  this  side  of  the  water.  His  allegorical  pictures  are  perhaps 
the  most  celebrated  of  his  works — and  as  compositions  they  display  un- 
common genius  ; but  he  does  not  excel  in  the  figure,  and  sometimes  his 
masterly  atmosphere,  rocks,  and  foliage  exhibit  a remarkable  contrast  to 
this  deficiency.  It  is  on  this  account,  perhaps,  that  Cole  is  chiefly  admired 
for  his  landscapes  from  nature,  which  often  exhibit  an  authenticity  and 
feeling  as  rare  as  it  is  attractive.  No  American  painter  has  so  completely 
identified  himself  with  his  land’s  features  ; his  pencil  having  fulfilled  the 
same  office  to  our  scenery  as  Bryant’s  verse. 

Thomas  Cole,  the  son  of  a woollen  manufacturer  of  Lancashire,  was  born 


Cole. 


OO  I 


at  Bolton  le  Moor,  England,  on  the  first  of  February,  1801.  Deriving 
through  his  imaginative  tendency  a vivid  and  somewhat  romantic  idea  of 
America,  he  was  glad  to  accompany  his  father’s  large  family  thither  in  1819. 
Steubenville,  Ohio,  was  the  place  chosen  for  their  residence.  The  scenery 
of  that  picturesque  State  developed  his  native  love  of  beauty  ; but  his  early 
years  were  marked  by  more  than  the  usual  vicissitude  and  privation  attend- 
ing the  pursuit,  not  only  of  knowledge  but  of  subsistence,  in  a new  country 
by  a youth  of  great  sensibility  and  high  aspirations  : a journey  to  the 
South,  a sojourn  at  Zanesville,  at  Clairville,  Chillicothe,  and  Pittsburg, 
gave  rise  to  many  thrifty  experiments,  to  many  serious  discouragements, 
and  not  a few  dreamy  episodes  : scene-painting,  music,  writing  verses, 
attacks  of  illness,  alternate  energy  and  depression,  some  humorous  adven- 
tures, and  much  moral  courage,  diversify  and  emphasize  the  record  of  his 
probation  as  an  artist.  Like  so  many  others  of  the  fraternity  among  us,  he 
caught  the  first  permanent  insight  and  purpose  from  the  casual  acquaintance 
of  an  itinerant  portrait-painter.  He  was  “ at  home  with  difficulties.”  Ob- 
liged to  take  likenesses  for  support,  his  sympathies  were  all  with  landscape 
art  ; his  first  attempts  were  crude,  but  his  observation  and  love  of  nature 
were  instinctive  and  habitual ; and  at  length  in  Philadelphia  he  met  with 
recognition  and  encouragement.  The  impression  Cole  made  on  the  public 
was  novel  and  auspicious.  To  him  may  be  directly  traced  the  primal  suc- 
cess of  landscape  painting  as  a national  art  in  the  New  World  ; his  truth 
and  feeling  excited  enthusiasm  : all  who  had  ever  enjoyed  the  aspects  of 
nature  peculiar  to  this  continent,  were,  to  use  the  language  of  Bryant  in 
his  ’discourse  on  Cole’s  career  and  character,  “ delighted  at  the  opportunity 
of  contemplating  pictures  which  carried  the  eye  to  a scene  of  wild  grandeur 
peculiar  to  our  country,  over  our  aerial  mountain  tops,  with  their  mighty 
growth  of  forests  never  touched  by  the  axe,  along  the  banks  of  streams 
never  deformed  by  culture,  and  into  the  depths  of  skies  bright  with  the  hues 
of  our  own  climate  ; such  as  few  but  Cole  could  paint,  and  through  the 
transparent  abysses  of  which,  it  seemed  as  if  you  might  send  an  arrow  out 
of  sight."  Trumbull,  Dunlap,  and  Durand,  his  early  friends,  beheld  in  him 
and  his  works  the  dawn  of  a new  and  benign  sphere  of  native  art.  From 
a storm-composition  to  a tree-study,  from  a battle-piece  to  a river-scene, 
from  a mountain  to  a wild,  his  pencil  was  busy  ; and  as  his  art  became  more 
lucrative,  his  ambition  grew  more  exalted.  His  “ Fort  Putnam,”  and  “ Falls 
of  the  Katerskill,”  were  followed  by  elaborate  compositions  wherein  an 
allegorical  significance  varied  and  heightened  the  intrinsic  claims  of  scenic 
art.  As  soon  as  the  requisite  means  were  obtained,  he  went  abroad  ; the 
rural  beauty  of  England,  by  its  quiet  and  cultured  contrast  with  the  wild 
scenes  at  home,  delighted  him  ; he  made  numerous  studies  of  landscapes 
in  his  ancestral  land,  examined,  with  critical  interest,  the  best  pictures 
there,  wandered  among  the  lakes  of  Cumberland,  made  copious  notes  of 
what  he  saw  in  the  Paris  galleries,  and  enjoyed  to  the  utmost  a long  visit 
to  Italy,  where,  cheered  by  the  friendship  of  Greenough,  he  delineated  the 
most  striking  views  around  Florence,  studied  the  mediaeval  architecture  and 

15 


226 


American  Artist  Life . 

mountain  scenery  of  Volterra ; passed  a most  instructive  and  congenial  season 
at  Rome,  where  the  Campagna,  Tivoli,  and  the  skies  and  ruins  afforded  new 
subjects  for  his  pencil ; and  returned  home  enriched  with  old-world  sketches, 
to  expatiate  in  the  realm  of  landscape  art,  with  a poetic  scope.  A second 
visit  to  Europe  included  the  tour  of  Sicily,  where  he  found  the  most  pic- 
turesque ruins  ; and  at  last  he  took  up  his  abode  at  Catskill,  where  the 
vicinity  of  grand  mountains,  a noble  river,  and  every  kind  of  sylvan  beauty 
yielded  the  materials  and  inspiration  his  art  required. 

It  was  not  until  death  had  hallowed  his  name,  and  his  best  works  were 
collected,  that  even  the  admirers  of  Cole  realized  the  extent  and  variety 
of  his  excellence  as  a painter.  Those  who  knew  the  man,  lingered  with 
love  and  sorrow,  with  pride  and  pleasure,  amid  these  trophies  ; tracing  his 
assiduous  and  progressive  career,  following  his  reverent  steps  through  the 
untamed  wilderness,  amid  the  chastened  and  subdued  scenes  of  English 
rural  life,  along  the  broken  aqueduCts  of  the  Roman  fields,  under  the 
shadow  of  Etna,  and  across  the  umbrageous  ravines  of  the  Highlands  of 
the  Hudson.  It  was  thought  by  many  that  the  style  of  Cole  lost  some- 
what of  its  bold  freshness  by  his  familiarity  with  Southern  Europe  ; but, 
taking  the  range  and  variety  of  his  subjects  into  view,  comparing  the  local 
truth  of  those  drawn  from  special  scenes,  and  recognizing  the  combinations 
of  his  elaborate  compositions,  the  impression  of  truth,  beauty,  skill, 
power,  and  tone  embodied  from  first  to  last,  was  as  comprehensive,  gra- 
cious, and  pure,  as  ever  came  from  the  pencil  of  a single  artist.  Nor  is  it 
possible  for  one  who  is  familiar  with  his  landscapes,  to  ignore  the  spirit  he 
was  of — to  divide  the  man  from  his  work.  UnaffeCted  and  earnest,  ti  re- 
ligious sentiment  underlaid  his  vocation  ; full  of  sensibility  to  truth  and 
beauty — the  feeling  for  Nature  which  pervaded  his  delineations,  appealed  to 
her  lovers  with  irresistible  authority.  The  record  of  his  life  and  thoughts, 
as  preserved  in  his  letters,  journal,  and  occasional  contributions  to  litera- 
ture, as  well  as  by  the  memorial  of  his  friend  and  pastor,  the  Rev.  Louis 
Noble,  and  the  reminiscent  eulogium  of  Bryant,  confirm  all  that  his 
pictures  convey  of  “ the  depth  of  his  emotions,  and  the  greatness  of  his 
thoughts.”  No  artist  ever  more  deeply  felt  the  inadequacy  of  art,  more 
truly  revered  its  high  ministry,  or  derived  from  affeCtion  and  faith  such 
inspiration  in  its  pursuit.  “I  have  seen,”  he  writes,  “no  picture  that 
represents  the  Alps  truly  ; and  words  are  incapable  of  describing  them. 
The  imagination  searches  in  vain  for  comparisons.  They  are  unearthly 
things,  of  the  texture  of  the  moon  as  seen  through  a fine  telescope,  beam- 
ing with  a sort  of  liquid,  silver  light — folds  of  heaven’s  drapery  fallen 
to  the  earth.”  “ How  I long  for  you,”  he  writes  to  one  he  loved,  “'to 
walk  with  me  in  the  grounds  of  the  Villa  Borghese,  to  see  the  warm  sun- 
light streaming  through  the  stately  pines  upon  the  rich  grass;”  and  yet 
with  this  ardent  love  of  foreign  scenes,  he  never  lost  his  attachment 
to  home:  “Neither  the  Alps  nor  the  Apennines,  nor  even  Etna  itself,” 
says  one  of  his  letters,  “have  dimmed  in  my  eyes  the  beauty  of  our 
own  Catskills.”  “ The  Mountain  Ford,”  “ The  Hunter’s  Return,”  “The 


Cole. 


227 


Home  in  the  Woods,”  or  “ Schroon  Lake,”  have,  with  all  their  diversity  of 
natural  aspect  and  association,  an  identical  truth  to  faCt  and  feeling  with 
the  “Temple  of  Agrigentum,”  and  the  “Voyage  of  Life.”  In  his  sim- 
plicity of  manners,  the  frank  yet  modest  spirit,  the  low  voice,  the  cheer- 
ful laugh,  the  sensitive  moods,  the  alternate  tenderness  and  humor, 
the  poetry,  the  affeCtion,  and  the  faith  of  Cole,  were  recognized  at  once  a 
child  and  a votary  of  nature.  There  were  times  when  he  felt  isolated  and 
discouraged  by  indiscriminate  criticism,  and  the  want  of  sympathy. 
“There  is  little  real  art  in  our  atmosphere,”  he  wrote,  “ and  to  me  but 
few  congenial  minds.”  Whoever,  with  the  latter  qualification,  accompa- 
nied Cole  on  any  of  his  excursions  to  the  White  Mountains,  Mount 
Desert,  the  Adirondacks  ; wandered  at  his  side  along  the  Arno,  or 
through  the  Campagna,  or  was  his  companion  as  he  went  to  study  the 
sunset  from  a favorite  knoll  of  the  Catskills,  cannot  fail  to  confirm  the 
declaration  that  “to  his  near  friends  there  were  few  higher  pleasures  than 
to  go  with  him  upon  these  walks.”  Dante,  Milton,  and  Wordsworth  were 
his  favorite  poets:  he  was  deeply  attached  to  the  Episcopal  Church  ; his 
habits  were  religious  ; he  died  at  his  Catskill  home  in  the  maturity  of  his 
powers  and  the  plenitude  of  his  faith. 

“Among  my  pleasant  recollections,”  says  a venerable  reminiscent, 
“ stand  clearly  forth  those  opening  exhibitions  of  the  National  Academy, 
when  Morse’s  benignant  countenance  was  seen  at  the  head  of  the  long 
table,  surrounded  by  artists  and  their  friends,  and  when,  late  in  the  even- 
ing, Mapes’s  face  wTas  radiant  with  humor,  and  the  4 Souter  tauld  his 
queerest  stories.’  Then,  too,  those  monthly  and  quarterly  meetings 
which  it  was  my  privilege  to  attend  ; the  academicians  seated  around  their 
table,  each  illustrating  in  his  own  way  the  subjeCt  given  for  the  evening.  It 
was  an  interesting  study  to  watch  the  characteristic  working  of  each  mind. 

“ I remember  on  one  occasion  the  subjeCt  given  for  illustration  was,  4 Just 
in  Time.’  One  artist  drew  a bull  in  chase  of  a boy,  who  reached  a fence 
just  in  time  to  draw  himself  up  by  the  topmost  board,  and  so  escape  the 
horns  of  the  infuriated  animal. 

“Another  represented  a poor  half-starved  fellow  entering  a room  where  a 
happy  family  were  seating  themselves  to  an  abundant  dinner,  he,  of  course, 
just  in  time  to  share  the  meal  of  which  he  stood  so  much  in  need. 

“ I was  anxious  to  see  what  Mount  was  at,  for  he  looked  very  mischievous. 
I never  shall  forget  Cole’s  sad  look  as  Mount’s  drawing  was  placed  upon 
the  table  for  examination.  Cole  was  a man  of  great  religious  sensibility, 
which  he  showed  in  that  beautiful  series  of  pictures  called  the  “Voyage 
of  Life.”  In  the  last  of  these  pictures  he  represents  the  old  man,  whom 
he  has  carried  from  childhood,  watched  over  by  his  good  angel,  to  pre- 
sumptuous youth,  flushed  with  hope  ; then  through  early  manhood,  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  demons  of  destruction,  down  to  old  age  ; now  entering 
the  ocean  of  eternity,  his  oars  of  self-reliance  broken,  his  splendid  bark 
shattered,  sitting  helpless  and  repentant,  when  the  good  angel  returns  once 
more  to  open  before  his  upward  gaze  the  bright  path  of  heaven. 


228 


American  Artist  Life. 


“ Mount,  with  his  irresistible  propensity  for  humor,  had  sketched  the  angel 
lifting  the  old  man  by  his  collar  from  the  coat,  while  the  Devil  stretched 
his  claws  from  below  in  a vain  effort  to  seize  the  man  saved  just  in  time 
by  the  angel.  The  illustration  was  irresistible,  but  it  made  us  all  feel  sad 
to  see  Cole  take  the  joke  so  seriously. 

“Up  to  1828  there  was  not  to  my  knowledge  a school  of  landscape  art 
in  this  country.  It  is  surprising  what  progress  this  school  of  art  had  made 
before  Mr.  Reed  died,  in  1836.  Those  who  were  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
his  gallery  at  No.  13  Greenwich  street  will  remember  what  delightful 
reunions  took  place  there  ; what  a mingling  there  was  of  artists  and 
literary  men,  such  as  Morse,  Cole,  Weir,  Inman,  Durand,  with  Cooper, 
Irving,  Bryant,  etc.  ; we  miss  from  our  number  Dr.  Wainwright,  Luman 
Reed,  Philip  Hone,  Thomas  Cole,  J.  Fenimore  Cooper,  and  many 
others. 

“ There  is  a touching  coincidence  connected  with  Cole’s  three  series  of 
pictures  which  I have  never  seen  mentioned.  The  “ Course  of  Empire,” 
his  first  series,  was  painted  for  Luman  Reed,  who  died  just  before  the 
completion  of  the  last  piCture.  His  second,  the  “Voyage  of  Life,”  was 
painted  for  Samuel  Ward,  whose  own  voyage  of  life  was  over  before  Cole 
had  brought  his  traveller  safely  through  the  waves  of  Time  to  the  ocean 
of  Eternity.  His  third,  the  “ Cross  and  the  World,”  was  painted  for  him- 
self, and  the  picture  representing  his  pilgrim  of  the  cross  entering  heaven 
was  scarcely  finished,  when  his  own  spirit  took  its  flight  to  those  regions 
of  bliss,  in  contemplation  of  which  his  whole  soul  was  filled.” 

Cole  painted  a few  portraits  ; among  them  two  studies — one  of  an  old 
monk,  the  other  of  a young  peasant,  which  used  to  hang  in  his  Catskill 
studio  ; they  evinced  a power  in  that  department  unsuspeCted  by  many. 
His  study  of  “The  Dead  Abel  ” is  a clever  one,  far  beyond  the  average  of 
landscape  artists  ; one  of  his  smallest  and  most  finished  works,  “Titan’s 
Goblet,”  was  painted  in  1833,  and  originally  belonged  to  Luman  Reed, 
who  afterward  gave  him  a commission  for  the  “ Course  of  Empire  ;”  it  is 
now  in  the  possession  of  J.  M.  Falconer,  of  New  York. 

Of  the  first  ten  years  of  his  artist-life,  Cole  says  : “The  first  three  were 
spent  amid  the  deepest  privations  and  poverty.  For  some  weeks  I lived 
on  bread  and  water,  until  a painful  sickness  came  upon  me  ; this  was  in 
part  in  Philadelphia.  Our  large  family  at  this  time  was,  in  a great  measure, 
dependent  on  me,  an  only  son  : I was  bound  for  a debt  contracted  by  my 
father,  whose  health  had  been  bad  for  many  years.  Nearly  four  years  I 
spent  in  Europe,  in  the  earnest  endeavor  to  acquire  the  means  of  support- 
ing an  affeClionate  family,  and  of  paying  those  debts  which  crushed  my  very 
soul  to  think  of.” 

“Young  Cole,”  writes  a law-student,  the  frugal  companion  of  his  toil, 
“was  employed  in  engraving  on  wood  for  a publisher  of  school-books. 
He  had  his  little  work-bench  put  up  in  our  room,  under  the  window-sill, 
for  the  benefit  of  light.  We  sat  with  our  backs  to  each  other  ; while  he 
plied  the  graver,  I studied  Blackstone.  At  intervals  he  took  up  his  flute, 


Cole. 


229 


his  constant  companion,  and  played  some  sweet  air.  He  was  an  admirable 
performer,  and  many  a time  brought  tears  into  my  eyes.  I had  good 
opportunity  of  studying  his  character.  I had  not  been  long  with  him 
before  I discovered  that  his  was  a mind  of  no  common  order,  and  his 
morals  pure  and  spotless.  Artless  and  unsophisticated,  he  was  without 
the  least  hypocrisy.  The  more  I knew  him  the  better  I loved  him.” 

“It  was  now  a great  thought  came  to  Cole,”  says  his  biographer,  “ and 
told  him  he  had  gone  to  work  wrong.  Hitherto  he  had  been  trying  mainly 
to  make  up  nature  from  his  own  mind,  instead  of  making  up  his  mind 
from  nature.  This  now  flashed  upon  him  as  a radical  mistake.  He  must 
not  only  muse  abroad  in  nature  and  catch  her  spirit,  but  gain  for  his  eye 
and  hand  a mastery  over  all  that  is  visible  in  her  outward  material  form, 
if  he  would  have  histpidtures  breathe  of  her  spirit.” 

His  description  of  the  Catskills,  White  Mountains,  English  scenery, 
Volterra,  the  Campagna  of  Rome,  and  of  Etna  ; of  the  impressions  made  by 
works  of  art,  of  incidents  of  travel  and  professional  aspirations  and  disap- 
pointments, social  and  domestic  amenities,  are  full  of  artistic  feeling  ; and 
his  discriminating  observation  of  scenery,  his  sense  of  the  modifying  in- 
fluence of  human  associations  and  historical  remains  ; his  definite  yet  elabo- 
rate conception  of  scenic  composition  as  unfolded  in  confidential  and  fami- 
liar intercourse — 'all  betoken  the  philosophical  and  poetical  aspirant. 

“ Next  to  home  itself,  Florence  was  to  Cole  the  happiest  place  in  which 
he  ever  lived.”  * 

“There  is  little  real  art  in  our  atmosphere,”  he  writes  after  his  return 
home,  “and  to  me  but  few  congenial  minds.  I languish  sometimes  for  the 
intercourse  I enjoyed  last  winter,  and  feel  that  there  is  little  to  bind  me  here 
but  my  family  and  my  own  dear  Catskills.” 

“ Taking  it  the  year  round,  Niagara  to  Cole,  was,  by  his  own  declaration, 
far  less  than  the  mountains.  They  were  symbols  of  the  eternal  majesty, 
immutability,  and  repose  which  no  cataradt  could  ever  be.” 

He  wrote  on  the  cover  of  a sketch-book,  soon  after  his  first  visit  to 
Europe  in  1829  : 

“ Let  not  the  ostentatious  gaud  of  art, 

That  tempts  the  eye  but  touches  not  the  heart, 

Lure  me  from  nature’s  purer  love  divine  ; 

But,  like  a pilgrim  at  some  holy  shrine, 

Bow  down  to  her  devotedly,  and  learn 
In  her  most  sacred  features,  to  discern 
That  truth  is  beauty.” 

Needless  as  natural  and  charming  was  Bryant’s  lond  warning  when  his 
painter-friend  went  abroad  : 

“ Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  light  of  distant  skies, 

Yet,  Cole,  thy  heart  shall  bear  to  Europe’s  strand 
A living  image  of  our  own  bright  land, 

* The  Life  and  Works  of  Thomas  Cole,  by  Rev,  Louis  L.  Noble.  Third  edition.  New  York  : 
Sheldon,  Blakeman  & Co.  1856. 


230 


American  Artist  Life . 

Such  as  upon  thy  glorious  canvas  lies  : 

* * * Thou  goest — fair, 

Fair  scenes  shall  greet  thee  there 
But  different,  everywhere  the  trace  of  men — 

Paths,  homes,  graves,  ruins,  from  the  lowest  glen 
To  where  life  shrinks  from  the  fierce  Alpine  air  ; 

Gaze  on  them  till  the  tears  shall  dim  thy  sight, 

But  keep  that  earlier,  wilder  image  bright.”  , 

Iii  the  winter  of  1832,  after  his  return  from  Europe,  Cole  occupied  a 
studio  at  the  corner  of  Wall  street  and  Broadway.  “ There  came  in  one 
day,,:  writes  Mr.  Noble,  “a  person  in  the  decline  of  life,  took  a liasty  turn 
round  the  room  serving  for  a gallery,  and  went  out  without  a word.  There 
was  that,  however,  in  the  appearance  of  this  silent  visitor,  as  he  looked 
quietly  but  intelligently  from  picture  to  picture,  which  could  not  readily  be 
forgotten.  Cole  had  a rare  power  of  judging  of  character  corredlly  at  once. 
The  favorable  opinion  instantly  formed  of  this  person  was  soon  happily 
confirmed  by  an  introduction  and  acquaintance.  In  the  course  of  the  win- 
ter Cole  received  from  him  a commission  for  a large  Italian  landscape,  and 
conversed  with  him  about  pictures  for  a private  gallery  he  was  then  contem- 
plating ; this  was  Luman  Reed.”  Cole’s  “ Primitive  State  of  Man,”  a wild 
landscape  with  a hunter,  belongs  to  E.  L.  Rogers,  Esq.,  of  Baltimore,  Md. ; 
“ The  Mountain  Ford,”  and  “ Kenilworth  Castle,”  and  the  fine  series  of  the 
“ Voyage  of  Life,”  to  J.  Taylor  Johnson,  Esq. ; “ Tornado  in  an  American 
Forest,”  to  R.  M.  Olyphant,  Esq.  ; the  u Expulsion  from  Paradise,”  to  James 
Lenox,  Esq. ; “ The  Old  Mill,”  and  “ A Landscape,”  to  Marshall  O.  Roberts, 
Esq.,  a large  landscape  and  “ View  on  the  Thames,”  with  a smaller  landscape, 
to  Jonathan  Sturgis,  Esq.  : a “ View  of  the  Roman  Campagna,”  and  “ Catskill 
Creek  at  Sunset,”  to  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.,  all  of  New  York  city  ; “ The 
Angels  appearing  to  the  Shepherds,”  belongs  to  the  Boston  Athenaeum ; 
“ A Cascade  in  the  Catskills,”  “ A View  of  the  N.  W.  Bay  on  the  Win- 
nipiseogee  Lake,”  and  “ A View  of  the  White  Mountains,”  are  in  the 
Wadsworth  Gallery,  Hartford,  Ct.  ; where  also  is  Cole’s  large  pidture  of 
“ Mount  Etna,”  view  taken  from  Taormina,  Sicily. 

The  scene  from  which  the  artist  took  this  pidture,  is  considered  as  one 
of  the  finest  in  the  world.  In  the  distance  rises  Mount  Etna,  clad  in 
snows,  which  the  fires  of  the  volcano  never  entirely  dissolve.  Its  height 
is  about  eleven  thousand  feet  above  the  Mediterranean,  which  on  the  left 
of  the  pidture  is  seen  to  indent  the  eastern  coast  of  Sicily.  In  the  mid- 
dle distance  of  the  pidture,  forming  part  of  the  vast  base  of  Etna,  is  a 
varied  country,  broken  yet  fertile,  and  interspersed  with  villages,  olive 
groves,  and  vineyards.  Crowning  a hill  on  the  right  of  the  picture* 
may  be  seen  part  of  the  village  of  Taormina,  anciently  a city  of  conse- 
quence, and  now  interesting  to  the  traveler  from  the  numerous  re- 
mains of  Grecian  and  Roman  buildings.  The  time  is  soon  after  sunrise. 
The  landscape  series  of  “The  Course  of  Empire,”  is  in  the  gallery 
of  the  New  York  Historical  Society  ; it  consists  of  five  pidtures  illustrat- 
ing “a  nation’s  rise,  progress,  decline,  fall,  and  the  consequent  changes 


Cole. 


231 


in  the  landscape  ; ’’—first,  the  Savage  state  ; second,  the  Arcadian  or  Pas- 
toral ; third,  the  consummation  of  Empire ; fourth,  Destruction  ; and  fifth, 
Desolation. 

The  exhibition  of  this  artist’s  works  soon  after  his  decease  in  1848,  made 
evident  the  fact  that  they  are  widely  distributed  among  our  most  liberal 
and  tasteful  citizens  ; among  the  names  of  owners,  in  the  catalogue,  are 
those  of  Austin,  Betts,  Colden,  Hone,  Laight,  Stuyvesant,  Sturges,  Van 
Rensselaer,  Verplanck,  Ward,  etc.  The  scenes  depiCted  indicate  an  exten- 
sive range  of  landscape  studies,  including  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean 
and  the  wilds  of  North  America,  English  castles  and  Tuscan  cities,  the 
ruins  of  Sicily  and  the  memorable  fields  around  Rome,  Etna,  and  the  Cats- 
kills, Feudal  and  Pastoral,  Swiss  and  Italian,  Lake  George  and  Segesta, 
the  White  Mountains  and  the  Roman  Campagna — in  all  sixty-three  works — 
alike  remarkable  for  imagination,  composition,  and  the  most  refined  and 
picturesque  truth  to  the  details,  as  fadts  and  influences  of  nature. 

Among  his  more  recent  pictures  are  two  beautiful  illustrations  of  Italian 
scenery.  They  represent  the  extremes  of  the  cheerful  and  the  sombre, 
which  make  the  contrasts  of  view  in  Southern  Europe  so  impressive.  One 
of  these  pictures,  to  which  we  believe  the  artist  gave  the  name  of 
l' Allegro,  has  a fine  perpendicular  cliff  in  the  background,  arched  by  a 
serene  and  lucent  sky.  The  light  plays  richly  through  a weed-grown 
arch,  peasants  dance  on  the  bright  sandy  shore  ; the  verdure  is  fresh  and 
vivid,  and  the  atmosphere  transparent  and  exhilarating  in  its  tone.  The 
piece  is  a composition,  and  sparkles  with  the  buoyant  nature  of  Parthe- 
nope,  “ touched  to  finer  issues  ” by  the  picturesque  ruins.  The  companion 
picture  (//  Penseroso ) represents  a lake  near  Albano,  in  the  Roman  ter- 
ritory. The  shores  rise  abruptly  to  a great  height,  and  are  covered  with 
dense  and  shadowy  foliage.  A dash  of  Salvator’s  gloom  broods  over  the 
scene,  and  an  ancient  shrine,  before  which  a single  peasant  kneels,  in- 
creases the  religious  solemnity  of  the  landscape. 

Of  his  American  views,  one  of  the  most  attractive  is  “ The  Hunter’s 
Return.”  It  is  a composition,  with  the  exception  of  one  noble  mountain 
in  the  background,  which  is  copied  from  a remarkable  spur  of  the  White 
Hills.  The  scene  is  an  opening  in  the  forest,  where,  beside  a transparent 
lake  and  beneath  the  impending  hillsides,  appears  a settler’s  log-hut,  with 
its  adjacent  cabbage-garden.  From  the  opposite  thicket  approach  two 
bluff  hunters,  with  a deer  slung  on  a pole,  and  borne  on  their  shoulders. 
One  waves  his  cap  to  the  wife,  who  stands  by  the  hut  door,  and  holds  up 
her  infant  to  greet  his  return.  In  advance  hurries  the  eldest  son  with  the 
dog.  There  is  a rustic  bridge,  the  stumps  of  a clearing,  two  or  three 
prostrate  birch  trunks,  and  all  the  objeCts  incident  to  such  a scene  ; while 
around  tower  the  evergreen  firs,  maples,  oaks,  and  beeches, — their  foliage 
kindled  with  all  the  splendid  dyes  of  an  American  autumn  ; and  far 
above,  serenely  arching  the  misty  hill-tops,  spreads  the  clear  blue  sky, 
mottled  with  gold.  It  is  altogether  a beautiful  and  most  authentic  illus- 
tration of  American  life  and  nature. 


American  Artist  Life. 


One  of  the  most  highly  finished  works  of  this  artist  is  an  oval  landscape 
— the  light  radiating  from  the  centre — an  experiment  which  proves  en- 
tirely successful  in  his  hands.  The  tone  of  this  piclture  is  quite  Claude- 
like.  The  foliage  is  autumnal,  and  in  the  painter’s  best  style,  and  the 
whole  effect  is  poetical  in  the  highest  degree.  This  gem  illustrates  the 
well-known  verses  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  entitled  “ The  Cross  in  the  Wilder- 
ness.” Cole  has  put  upon  canvas  the  picture  described  in  the  two  fol- 
lowing stanzas,  in  a manner  that  would  have  charmed  the  delicate  taste 
of  the  sweet  poetess  : — 

“ Silent  and  mournful  sat  an  Indian  Chief, 

In  the  red  sunset,  by  a grassy  tomb  ; 

His  eyes,  that  might  not  weep,  were  dark  with  grief, 

And  his  arms  folded  in  majestic  gloom, 

And  his  bow  lay  ^unstrung  beneath  the  mound, 

Which  sanctified  the  gorgeous  waste  around. 

“ For  a pale  cross  above  its  greensward  rose, 

Telling  the  cedars  and  the  pines  that  there 
Man’s  heart  and  hope  had  struggled  with  his  woes, 

And  lifted  from  the  dust  a voice  of  prayer. 

Now  all  was  hushed,  and  eve’s  last  splendor  shone 
With  a rich  sadness  on  th’  attesting  stone.” 


His  Roman  aqueduct  breathes  the  very  loneliness  and  sublime  desola- 
tion of  the  Campagna.  It  is  not  a few  barren  fields  and  arches  of  decay- 
ing brick  that  we  behold,  but  the  silent  arena  of  a vanished  world. 
“There  are  certainly  fewer  good  landscape  pictures,”  says  one  of  Cole’s 
letters,  “in  proportion  to  their  number,  than  of  historical.  In  landscape 
there  is  a greater  variety  of  objects,  textures,  and  phenomena  to  imitate. 
It  has  expression,  also  ; not  of  passion,  to  be  sure,  but  of  sentiment — 
whether  it  be  tranquil  or  spirit-stirring ; its  seasons,  sunrise,  suns-et, 
storm,  the  calm,  various  kinds  of  trees,  herbage,  waters,  mountains,  skies. 
And  whatever  scene  is  chosen,  one  spirit  pervades  the  whole — light  and 
darkness  tremble  in  the  atmosphere,  and  each  change  transmutes.”  There 
spoke  the  poet,  and  his  canvas  gives  the  same  dreamy  impression,  the 
same  pensive  or  bright  mood,  that  the  best  verse  inspires.  How  well  the 
vivid  green,  the  Arcadian  fertility  of  the  vale,  contrasts  with  the  shadowy 
mist  around  the  base  of  Etna  ! The  lateral  sunbeams  warm  the  floating 
vapors,  and  light  up  the  olive-clumps  and  broad  leaves  of  the  aloe  to  an 
Eden  freshness.  We  involuntarily  sigh  to  be  in  that  lettiga  (comfortless 
vehicle  that  it  is)  now  winding  down  the  mountain.  One  thin  light  stream 
of  smoke  is  slowly  wreathing  upward  from  the  cone,  and  about  its  dark 
sides  how  beautiful  are  the  snow-drifts  ! Never  was  a mountain  more  faith- 
fully portrayed.  It  comes  back  to  us  like  a wondrous  dream.  The  whole 
is  conceived  in  exactly  the  mood  to  which  an  imaginative  mind  is  lured  by 
the  unequalled  scene. 


INMAN. 


FTER  the  exhibition  of  Allston’s  paintings  we  had  no  feast 
of  native  art  comparable  with  that  of  this  artist’s  works. 
As  we  surveyed  the  various  evidences  of  taste  and  genius 
which  adorned  the  walls,  associated  as  they  were  with  one 
of  the  most  genial  and  kindly  characters  it  has  been  our 
lot  to  know,  a thousand  pleasant  memories  and  grateful 
thoughts  sprang  up  “as  at  the  touch  of  an  enchanter’s  wand.”  At  a meet- 
ing of  the  committee  to  whose  exertions  the  public  were  indebted  for  this 
exhibition,  one  of  Inman’s  sanguine  friends  urged  with  no  little  eloquence 
the  propriety  of  inviting  our  citizens  to  hear  an  oration  in  honor  of  his  life 
and  labors.  The  proposition  was  deemed  inexpedient  by  the  majority 
present.  It  was  felt  that  the  works  of  an  artist  speak  more  justly  his 
praise  ; and  we  think  no  discerning  visitor  failed  to  realize  this  in  regard 
to  Inman. 

There  are  few  more  interesting  processes  than  to  trace  the  development 
of  a nobly-endowed  man,  as  we  often  can  in  written  productions,  but  sel- 
dom, as  in  the  present  instance,  through  the  offspring  of  the  pencil.  Let 
any  one  turn  from  the  crude  execution  of  his  paintings,  at  the  age  of  eigh- 
teen, to  the  exquisite  finish  and  delicate  tints  of  “ Rydal  Water” — which 
seems  to  deepen  in  crystal  tranquillity  as  you  gaze,  until  the  very  spirit  of 
the  delicious  landscape  passes  into  your  mind  as  it  often  did  into  that  of 
Wordsworth,  who  himself  conducted  Inman  to  the  very  point  of  view 
whence  the  picture  was  taken.  In  portraiture,  too,  compare  the  artist’s 
brother — his  first  likeness  in  oils — so  comparatively  without  vigor,  to  the 
strong,  massive  head  of  Lord  Chancellor  Cottenham. 

The  collection  of  his  works  was,  of  course,  limited  to  the  few  which 
could  be  readily  obtained  ; the  objeCt  of  the  exhibition  having  been  to 
provide  something  for  his  family,  rather  than  completely  to  illustrate  the 
ability  of  the  painter.  The  works  thus  brought  together — all  the  products 
of  the  same  mind — were  more  valuable  and  attractive  than  many  exhibi- 
tions we  have  seen  comprising  twenty  times  as  many  pictures  by  fifty  dif- 
ferent hands.  It  would  have  been  quite  easy  to  have  gathered  many  more 
by  the  same  pencil,  but  it  was  deemed  advisable  to  improve  the  occasion 
without  delay,  and  avoid  the  risk  and  expense  consequent  upon  the  trans- 
portation of  works  from  a great  distance.  Accordingly,  the  Art- Union 


234 


American  Artist  Life. 


room  having  been  gratuitously  offered  for  the  purpose,  one  hundred  and 
twenty-six  of  Inman’s  pictures  were  arranged  upon  its  walls.  As  a matter 
of  course  the  greater  number  were  portraits — but  such  portraits,  for  the 
most  part,  as  have  an  artistic  interest  which  renders  them  attractive,  inde- 
pendent of  all  personal  associations.  Indeed  we  venture  to  claim  for 
Inman,  in  this  department,  the  highest  rank  He  was  unequal,  it  is  true  ; 
but  when  the  subjeCt  was  propitious  and  the  artist  himself,  that  is,  in 
health  and  the  right  mood  for  his  task,  the  result  may  challenge  admiration 
from  the  lovers  of  Vandyke  and  Lawrence.  If  this  praise  should  be 
deemed  extravagant,  we  point  with  confidence  to  the  heads  of  Dr.  Chal- 
mers, Lord  Chancellor  Cottenham,  Wordsworth,  and  Macaulay,  as  exam- 
ples of  vigorous,  characteristic,  and  masterly  portraiture  ; to  the  “ Artist’s 
Daughter,”  as  an  instance  of  the  perfectly  successful  transfer  of  expression 
to  the  canvas  without  adventitious  finish  ; and  to  the  pen  and  crayon 
sketches  of  Porter  and  Hoffman,  and  the  painting  of  Jacob  Barker,  as 
proofs  of  facility  of  execution.  The  portrait  of  an  infant  was  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  things  in  the  exhibition.  We  are  informed  that  it  was 
painted  after  the  child’s  death,  entirely  from  the  father’s  description  of  its 
lineaments  ; and  is  a satisfactory  likeness.  A painter’s  life  abounds  in 
significant  passages,  and  one  of  the  most  touching  we  ever  heard,  is  that 
of  a parent  sitting  for  hours  beside  an  artist  engaged  in  transferring  the 
beloved  features  from  his  memory.  The  quotation  from  Moore’s  “ Lake 
of  the  Dismal  Swamp,”  appended  in  the  catalogue  to  a view  of  the  scene, 
reminds  us  of  the  dramatic  effeCt  with  which  the  departed  was  wont  to 
recite  that  poem,  after  the  manner  of  a well-known  elocutionist,  for  the 
amusement  of  his  friends.  How  benign  an  air  broods  over  the  massive 
forehead  of  Chalmers  ! We  see  in  his  face  the  power  of  thought,  and  the 
heat  of  enthusiasm  tempered  by  age.  It  has  been  well  said  that  Words- 
worth’s brow,  eye,  and  mouth,  perfectly  accord  with  the  tranquillity  and 
diffuseness  of  his  muse  ; there  is  a passionless  contemplation  about  the 
picture,  so  true  to  the  poet’s  nature  as  exhibited  in  his  writings  that,  with- 
out having  seen  the  original,  we  feel  assured  his  portrait  is  authentic. 
Macaulay  was  not  a promising  subjeCt.  His  temperament  and  tone  of  com- 
plexion would  prove  very  ineffective  in  the  hands  of  an  inferior  painter. 
Inman  has  given  so  well  the  noble  outline  of  the  head — the  swelling  curve 
where  phrenologists  locate  the  perceptive  organs — and  chosen  the  position 
so  admirably,  the  eye  slightly  lifted,  that  the  heavy  features  have  a quiet 
eloquence  which  grows  upon  the  spectator.  Their  rugged,  honest  strength 
would,  however,  leave  us  without  any  outward  sign  of  the  great  reviewer’s 
mental  refinement,  were  it  not  for  the  hand,  the  beautiful  moulding  of 
which  completes  the  insignia  with  which  nature  has  stamped  the  casket 
whose  gems  have  so  often  scintillated  from  the  pages  of  the  “ Edinburgh.” 
The  unfinished  portraits  attracted  much  attention  from  every  painter  who 
visited  the  exhibition,  for  the  reason  that  they  gave  no  inadequate  notion 
of  the  process  which  the  limner  followed.  It  was  observed  that  the  pecu- 
liar and  characteristic  expression  of  the  face — that  quality,  indeed,  which 


Inman. 


235 


alone  gives  individuality  to  the  features,  was  already  caught  and  embodied. 
This  method  is  precisely  what  distinguishes  genius  from  mechanical  dex- 
terity. Any  one  with  a command  of  language  can  versify,  and  a little 
practice  will  enable  the  clumsiest  hand  to  combine  color  and  trace  forms  ; 
but  to  vivify  language  with  genuine  emotion,  so  that  it  adequately  repre- 
sents a state  of  the  soul,  and  to  make  outlines  and  tints  convey  the  very 
personality  of  a countenance,  are  achievements  requiring  a special  endow- 
ment, and  not  attainable  through  mere  skill  or  industry. 

Henry  Inman  was  of  English  ancestry  ; and  some  of  his  distant  kindred 
still  reside  in  Somersetshire  ; he  was  born  in  Utica,  N.  Y.,  October  28th, 
1801.  When  he  was  eleven  years  of  age  his  parents  removed  to  the  city 
of  New  York.  As  the  boy  advanced  in  years  he  exhibited  the  vivacious, 
intelligent  and  genial  qualities  which,  long  after,  endeared  him  as  an  artist 
and  companion  ; and  it  seems  natural  that  with  his  generous  and  aCtive 
nature  he  should  at  first  have  inclined  to  a military  career ; he  had  even 
secured  a commission  to  enter  the  West  Point  Academy,  when  the  accidental 
sight  of  a master-piece  of  pictorial  Art  won  him  to  her  service  and  love.  This 
was  the  “ Danae  ” of  Westmuller,  one  of  the  most  exquisite  pieces  of  flesh- 
painting which  has  emanated  from  the  French  school,  of  which  the  Swedish 
artist  was  essentially  a votary.  It  is  a singular  coincidence  that  this  work, 
so  vividly  associated  with  the  commencement,  should  also  be  identified  with 
the  latter  years  of  Inman’s  artist-life  ; for  it  was  in  his  studio  that  I first 
saw  it,  while  temporarily  in  his  possession  : after  his  death  it  was  again 
exhibited  to  almost  a new  generation  and  obtained  the  same,  if  not  greater 
popular  admiration,  than  when  originally  before  the  public.  Inman  first 
saw  this  famous  picture  at  the  studio  of  Jarvis  ; and  it  was  to  this  eccen- 
tric painter  that  he  introduced  himself  as  a candidate  for  artistic  instruction. 
No  one  who  knew  Inman  and  can  imagine  what  must  have  been  his  aspect 
and  manners  as  a youth,  can  feel  surprised  that  Jarvis  was  instantly  con- 
ciliated by  his  frank  address  ; indeed  he  at  once  declared  that  his  new 
pupil  “ had  just  the  head  for  a painter  ” — an  inference  which  Inman  used 
humorously  to  say  was  nearly  extinguished  by  his  first  “ infernal  attempts.” 
Jarvis  was  by  no  means  a flattering  master  ; on  the  contrary  he  spared  no 
severity  of  criticism,  and  roused  ambition  more  by  challenging  than  cheer- 
ing. Inman  remembered  some  mortifying  comments  which  he  and  his 
fellow-students  had  to  endure  from  Jarvis,  even  before  strangers  ; but  the 
discipline  was  wholesome  ; it  prevented  all  complacent  repose  on  what  was 
acquired,  and  stimulated  to  constant  effort  in  the  right  direction. 

A letter  dated  in  1822  says  : “ Jarvis  and  his  pupil,  Inman,  came  to  Boston, 
to  seek  employment,  but  did  little.  Henry’s  beautiful  little  water-colored 
likenesses  were  a source  of  some  profit.” 

Many  years  after,  Inman  reverted  to  his  studies  with  amusing  zest;  and 
had  countless  anecdotes  of  the  stories,  talk,  and  adventures  of  his  eccentric 
master,  which  he  could  relate  with  remarkable  naivete  and  dramatic  efteCt. 
Seven  years  of  successful  devotion  to  portrait-painting,  with  occasional 
landscape  and  compositions,  followed  his  probation  in  the  studio  of  Jarvis  ; 


American  Artist  Life . 


236 

he  married,  and  in  1832  removed  to  Philadelphia.  His  established  reputa- 
tion now  obtained  him  several  large  public  commissions  ; among  them  full- 
lengths  of  William  Penn,  Judge  Marshall,  and  Colonel  Varick,  for  each  of 
which  he  received  a thousand  dollars.  For  some  years  he  executed 
miniatures,  cabinet  and  life-size  portraits,  practiced  lithographic  drawing, 
and  sketched  scenery  with  rare  assiduity  and  success.  A diary  which  he 
kept  at  intervals  shows  how  constantly  he  was  employed  : his  portraits  of 
Ingersol,  Mcllvaine,  Wirt,  Bishop  White,  Colonel  Johnson,  Dr.  Hawks, 
Biddle,  Professor  McVickar,  Halleck,  Hoffman,  Judge  Betts,  and  others, 
are  well  known  and  highly  estimated,  Inman  was  a sufferer  from  peri- 
odical asthma  for  many  years  of  his  life  ; every  autumn  he  was  attacked  with 
more  or  less  severity,  and  obliged  to  lay  aside  his  pencil ; in  his  latter  years 
this  disease  was  complicated  with  that  of  the  heart.  Among  his  prevalent 
tastes  was  that  for  natural  history;  Buffon  was  one  of  his  favorite  authors  ; 
he  was  a true  sportsman  ; and  could  discourse  charmingly  of  birds  and 
animals  ; he  also  had  a love  of  scenery  and  a skill  in  its  delineation,  which, 
under  favorable  circumstances,  would  have  made  him  celebrated  in  land- 
scape painting  ; and  all  these  circumstances  and  traits  combined  to  make 
him  a lover  of  the  country  where,  in  the  height  of  his  metropolitan  success, 
he  determined  to  make  his  home  ; and  took  up  his  abode  at  a beautiful 
rural  estate  at  Mount  Holly,  N.  J.  As  a general  thing,  exclusive  country 
life  is  not  favorable  to  artistic  success  ; the  social  element  is  wanting,  and 
the  popular  sympathy.  Cole  used  to  come  to  the  city  with  a fresh  land- 
scape, and  hunt  up  his  friends  ; and  Weir  has  often  felt  at  West  Point  the 
need  of  companionship  in  art.  Inman’s  studio  had  long  been  the  rendezvous 
of  the  eminent  and  gifted  of  the  land  ; he  enjoyed  his  trout-fishing,  his 
sketching  from  nature,  the  birds,  flowers,  and  domestic  pleasures  of  his 
rural  home  ; but  the  exigencies  of  his  art,  and  a strong  social  instinbt  drew 
him  more  and  more  to  town  life  ; and,  at  length,  pecuniary  reverses  obliged 
him  to  dispose  of  his  country  seat.  Yet  no  one  of  our  artists  has  achieved 
greater  prosperity  by  his  labors  in  portraiture  than  Inman  ; the  misfortune 
is,  and  always  has  been,  that  this  branch  of  art  is  a precarious  resource, 
owing  to  the  caprices  of  fashion  and  of  fame. 

In  1838  Inman  enjoyed  an  income  from  his  pencil  of  nearly  nine  thou- 
sand dollars  ; the  following  year  was  the  last  of  his  prosperity  ; his  health 
became  worse  ; he  made  unfortunate  investments  ; and,  with  the  decline 
of  work,  anxieties  pressed  upon  him.  He  returned  to  New  York,  and  re- 
newed the  pleasant  intimacies  of  his  youth  enhanced  by  new  and  interest- 
ing social  acquirements.  In  1841  he  had  a worse  attack  of  his  old  disease 
than  he  had  ever  suffered  ; and  compared  his  agonized  respiration  to  the 
vulture  of  Prometheus.  When  free  from  illness,  and  freed  from  imme- 
diate care,  his  charming  vein  of  cheerful  wit  and  companionable  intelligence 
returned  in  full  force  : like  all  true  artists  he  had  strong  literary  affinities, 
and  on  the  occasion  of  the  Dickens  dinner  in  New  York,  made  a most 
graceful  and  suggestive  speech  on  the  Attributes  of  the  Picturesque,  in 
which  he  defined  the  relationship  between  Art  and  Letters,  claiming 


Inman. 


237 


for  the  honored  guest,  the  most  remarkable  artistic  power  and  insight. 
In  1843  successive  attacks  of  illness,  and  lack  of  regular  and  profitable 
employment,  with  the  solicitude  incident  to  a large  family,  had  brought  to 
Inman  days  of  deep  depression  ; his  friends  gave  him  commissions,  but 
felt  he  required  an  absolute  change  of  scene  and  life  to  renew  his  health 
and  hope.  His  friends,  James  Lenox.  Edward  L.  Carey,  and  Henry 
Reed,  induced  him  to  visit  England  and  portray  Chalmers,  Macaulay, 
and  Wordsworth,  for  them  respectively.  It  was  a happy  expedient. 
He  had  a delightful  sojourn  in  Westmoreland  and  an  encouraging  visit 
to  London,  where  the  most  flattering  inducements  were  held  out  to 
him  to  establish  himself  as  a portrait-painter.  Had  he  done  so,  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that  a new  and  prosperous  career  would  have  revived  his 
fortunes  and  his  life  ; but  domestic  claims  and  precarious  health  obliged 
him  to  return  to  America ; not,  however,  before  he'  had  enjoyed  a charm- 
ing episode  of  experience  in  the  society  of  British  artists,  the  hospitalities 
of  London  celebrities,  and  the  opportunity  to  examine  the  latest  achieve- 
ments in  art ; for  the  first  time  in  many  years  he  had  escaped  the  asthma  ; 
the  Elgin  marbles,  the  National  and  Royal  Academies,  and  the  kind  com- 
panionship of  Leslie,  Mulready,  Stanfield,  Maclise,  and  others,  congenially 
occupied  his  leisure  ; while  the  portraits  he  executed  abroad  more  than 
renewed  the  highest  success  of  his  best  days  in  art.  And  to  these  satis- 
factions should  be  added  that  of  the  most  interesting  personal  intercourse 
with  his  illustrious  sitters.  “You  would  have  laughed  to-day,”  says  one 
of  his  letters,  “ could  you  have  stood  by  and  heard  the  courteous  battle- 
royal  of  words  between  me  and  Macaulay.”  In  April,  1845,  Inman  re- 
turned home  ; he  was  most  affectionately  received  by  his  friends  ; but 
younger  aspirants  occupied  the  sphere  he  once  filled  ; anxious  for  the 
future  welfare  of  his  family,  waiting  vainly  for  adequate  employment,  and 
attacked  with  heart  disease,  in  the  autumn  of  this  year  he  put  the  last 
touch  to  his  last  picture — a sweet,  pensive,  mellow,  landscape,  appropri- 
ately called  “An  October  Afternoon.”  He  lingered  a few  months  : “ It  is 
hard  to  part  with  you,  fellows,”  was  one  of  his  characteristic  sayings  to  a 
friend  ; kindly  fellowship  and  genial  talent  were  strong  within  him  to  the 
last.  Inman  died  in  New  York  on  the  17th  of  January,  1846.  His  fune- 
ral was  attended  by  several  hundred  persons  of  all  ranks  and  vocations, 
and  deep  and  heartfelt  was  their  tribute  of  sorrow  and  of  praise. 

In  his  happiest  efforts  at  portraiture,  wherein  there  was  great  inequality 
viewed  as  a whole,  Inman  has  been  compared  to  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  : 
his  rapidity  of  execution  was  uncommon  ; a “delicate  mottling”  was  often 
admired  in  his  color,  a completeness  and  neatness  of  style  in  his  landscapes, 
and  skilful  manipulation  in  the  works  undertaken  con  amore ; while  it  is 
conceded  that  he  was  the  first  American  artist  who  attempted  genre  with 
success.  Inman  had  much  felicity  and  facility  in  pen-craft,  not  only  as  a 
draughtsman  but  as  an  author  ; though  he  seldom,  and  only  casually, 
indulged  the  latter  vein  ; his  taste  and  sympathies  with  men  of  letters 
and  literature  were  strong  and  individual,  his  love  of  poetry  genuine,  and 


American  Artist  Life. 


2^8 


his  discrimination  as  a critic  wise  and  genial.  I remember  how  it  annoyed 
him  that,  for  some  time,  he  was  unable  to  sympathize  in  the  appreciation 
of  Wordsworth,  expressed  by  a circle  with  whom,  on  most  aesthetic  points, 
he  was  in  accord.  He  referred  to  this  exception  to  me  with  surprise.  I 
attributed  it  to  the  fadt  that  he  had  never  seriously  placed  himself  in  rela- 
tion with  the  bard  of  Rydal  Mount,  and  that  the  hurried,  anxious,  fevered 
life  he  was  leading,  at  the  time,  was  quite  opposed  to  the  calm,  receptive 
mood  indispensable  to  the  recognition  of  a philosophic  poet  of  Nature, 
who  abjured  all  conventional  means ; the  incompatibility  of  a worldly  state 
of  mind,  and  the  feeling  Wordsworth  inspires  and  to  which  he  appeals, 
has  been  finally  illustrated  in  one  of  the  leCtures  of  Frederic  Robertson. 
Not  long  afterwards,  during  a slow  convalescence,  when  body  and  mind 
were  subdued  to  a mood  of  patient  and  thoughtful  repose,  and  when  the 
moral  sensibilities  were  quickened  by  relief  from  suffering  and  the  placid 
self-possession  incident  to  leisure  and  tranquillity  realized,  Inman  requested 
me  to  bring  him  Wordsworth  ; for  days  he  was  absorbed  in  the  perusal 
thereof,  gleaning  with  delight  every  high  thought  and  deep  sentiment, 
enjoying  the  grand  simplicity  of  language,  and  gradually  entering  into  and 
thoroughly  assimilating  the  pure  and  precious  food  of  fancy,  reverence,  and 
faith.  He  became  a most  intelligent  lover  of  the  poet  so  long  neglected  ; 
and  when  sojourning  with  him  and  engaged  on  his  portrait,  quoted  and 
commented  on  his  verse,  in  a manner  that  satisfied  even  so  fastidious  an 
auditor. 

The  versatility  of  Inman’s  talent  as  exhibited  in  congenial  social  inter- 
course, was  remarkable.  An  Englishman  newly  arrived,  who  was  my 
neighbor  at  table,  when  he  entertained  a few  friends  at  supper,  exclaimed, 
after  listening  to  his  conversation,  his  recitation,  and  his  vocalism,  that, 
once  known  to  the  wits  of  London,  he  would  become  a perpetual  diner- 
out,  so  rare  did  his  gifts  and  companionship,  in  scope  and  quality,  appear. 
During  his  visit  abroad  he  thus  fondly  recurs  to  these  pleasant  meetings  : 


“ London,  Dec.  15,  1844. 

“ My  Dear  T. : - 

‘•A  rainy  Sunday  and  the  debris  of  a headache  keep  me  at  home  ; and 
in  the  solitude  of  my  lodgings  (Mary  is  on  a visit  in  another  part  of  this 
great  Babylon)  I turn  for  society  to  the  perusal  of  my  letters  from  friends 
on  your  side  of  the  Atlantic.  I find  among  others  your  pleasant  epistles  ; 
I read  them  ; every  word  helps  to  open  wide  the  floodgates  of  memory, 
and  awaken  a host  of  goodly  recollections  of  memorable  suppers,  of 
mesmeric  confabulations,  of  poetical  enthusiasms  ; and  chivalry  and  poe- 
try and  conviviality,  and  that  last  joyous  feast,  where  verse,  wit,  and 
music  flung  their  triple  radiance  ; all,  all  come  thronging  upon  me  at  this 
moment,  and  urge  me  to  bestow  a page  of  friendship’s  tediousness  upon 
you.  I must  not  forget  to  say,  that  in  these  visions  of  the  past,  P.  M.  I., 
and  G.  H.,  and  Lieut.  M.,  make  one  of  the  sunshiny  groups  ; do  not  fail 
to  tell  them  of  my  most  kindly  remembrance.  I am  quietly  4 lorking  on 


Inman. 


239 


in  Vienna  ; ’ and  I see  here  plainly  the  two  extremes  of  the  social  system,  and 
only  the  extremes, — plethoric  wealth  and  luxury  in  most  ungracious  con- 
trast with  squalid  poverty : in  short  I have  arrived  at  this  result — that 
England  is  a paradise  for  the  rich,  and  a purgatory,  not  to  use  a warmer 
epithet,  for  the  poor ; an  aristocracy  revelling  in  surroundings  of  heredi- 
tary and  barbaric  splendor,  grudging  with  unwilling  and  remorseless 
hands  a refuge  for  the  poor,  in  the  shape  of  minor  workhouses,  by  cour- 
tesy, so-called  ; but  which  may  be  more  aptly  termed  prisons.  The  “cot- 
tage homes  of  England,”  according  to  the  muse  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  no 
longer  exist,  and  I could  only  find  in  their  stead  the  hovels  of  destitution. 
As  to  the  arts,  the  British  school  stands,  I think,  very  high.  I see  by  the 
papers  that  my  sanguine  friends  at  home  are  ascribing  all  sorts  of  success 
to  my  pencil,  but  you  are  all  premature.  I am  only  executing  the  orders 
I brought  with  me  from  America.  This  friendly  inkshed  has  done  my 
headache  good  already.  Give  my  love  to  Charley,  and  hand  him  from  me 
the  following  verses  of  a Dutch  drinking-song.  He  will  perhaps  remem- 
ber my  singing  the  two  first  verses  of  it.  I got  these  from  my  brother, 
Capt.  Inman.  I dare  say  Lieut.  M.  has  often  heard  him  sing  them,  and  he 
can  give  the  air.  They  are  the  production  of  some  dunderhead,  multo- 
breeched  Anacreon  from  the  backwoods  of  Pennsylvania.  I have  added 
out  of  my  own  1 calf’s  head’  the  concluding  stanzas.  There,  my  dear 
friend,  I have  let  off  a little  steam.  God  bless  you,  and  all  our  set  ; 
write  as  often  as  you  can.  I shall  go  to  the  continent  in  February,  I 
think.  I am  your  most  assured  friend  in  all  places.  IE  I.” 

Soon  after  the  date  of  this  letter,  Inman  so  won  the  sympathy  and 
esteem  of  an  influential  and  wealthy  friend  of  art,  that  a promising  Lon- 
don career  in  portraiture  opened  to  him  ; an  establishment  was  projected, 
and  desirable  orders  promised  ; those  he  had  brought  from  home  being 
for  portraits  of  eminent  persons,  their  excellent  execution  secured  his 
reputation,  and  there  was  every  prospeCt  of  success  ; his  talents  seemed 
revived  to  their  best  activity,  while  his  social  attractions,  in  the  new 
sphere  thus  granted  him  in  the  hour  of  need  and  the  prime  of  his  life, 
warranted  sanguine  hopes  of  a new  and  long  artistic  triumph.  But  failing 
health,  and  domestic  duties  and  disappointments,  compelled  him  to  forego 
the  flattering  prospeCt  and  return  home. 

Another  illustration  of  his  apt  and  graceful  manner  of  treating  the  inci- 
dents of  social  intercourse  is  worth  quoting.  After  a long  discussion  in 
regard  to  the  expediency  of  introducing  an  exceptionable  person  into  a 
genial  circle,  of  which  the  artist  was  one,  his  arguments  prevailing,  but  in 
the  end  proving  fallacious,  he  acknowledged  his  mistake  in  an  allegory. 
It  gives  an  idea  of  his  resources 'and  fancifulness  in  social  intercourse.  A 
beautiful  pen-drawing  of  the  scene  described  accompanied  the  “ fable.” 


240 


American  Artist  Life. 


<b 


“ 26th  March,  1843. 

My  dear  T : — 

u I send  you  the  following  fable,  trusting  you  will  duly  ponder  the  moral. 

“ Cordially  yours, 


“ H . I.” 


The  Panther  and  the  Young  Gazelle. 


In  the  days  of  zEsop,  when  animals  possessed  the  gift  of  speech,  a cer- 
tain painter  of  renown  kept  in  his  studio  a tame  panther.  One  day,  when 
a friend  of  the  painter,  a famous  poet  of  Greece,  was  standing  behind  his 
easel,  a conversation  ensued,  in  which  panther,  who  had  been  trimming  his 
whiskers,  in  a corner,  took  part  : said  the  painter,  at  the  same  time  patting 
the  sides  of  his  four-footed  companion,  “ How  completely  has  education 
eradicated  from  my  poor  Pandus  here,  all  the  ferocious  impulses  of  his  early 
nature  ! Observe  the  mildness.  of  his  expression.  How  full  of  human  feel- 
ing and  refinement ! ” The  poet,  who  rather  doubted  the  animal,  replied, 
‘ It  may  be  so,  but  I should  not  like  to  bring  my  pet  gazelle  within  the 
neighborhood  of  his  clutches.”  The  panther  here  interposed,  and  quickly 
sheathing  a row  of  enormous  claws,  which  the  remark  of  the  poet  had 
caused  him  slily  to  disclose,  at  the  same  time  meekly  dropping  his  silky 
eyelashes,  he  said,  “ How  can  you  say  so,  master  poet  ? Have  I not  seen 
my  master’s  picture  of  your  beautiful  gazelle  ? Have  I not  heard  you  re- 
cite in  glowing  strains  your  own  praises  of  her  love-lit  looks  ? Do  not 
think  so  unworthily  of  me  ! Only  favor  me  with  the  honor  of  an  introduc- 
tion to  her,  and  see  how  tenderly  I will  behave  to  her.  No  ! no  ! I 
appreciate  too  well  your  love  of  sentiment  and  my  master’s  love  of  beauty, 
to  let  the  slightest  peep  of  my  long  nails  ruffle  for  an  instant  her  charming 
tranquillity.”  The  poet,  won  by  his  entreaties,  seconded  by  the  earnest 
wishes  of  the  painter,  at  length  consented  ; and  accordingly,  a few  days 
afterwards,  brought  his  dear  gazelle  to  the  house  of  his  friend.  The  “ dark- 
eyed one  ” was  with  great  formality  presented  to  the  panther,  who  put  on 
his  most  insinuating  looks  for  the  occasion,  and  at  last  completely  overcame 
the  shock  of  apprehension  which  the  beautiful  gazelle  could  not  help  be- 
traying at  the  first  sight  of  him.  The  painter  rejoiced  at  the  good  behavior 
of  his  favorite,  and  the  poet  consented,  but  with  some  slight  misgivings,  to 
leave  them  together;  but,  alas!  on  returning,  after  a short  absence,  they 
found  that  the  ravenous  monster,  under  all  the  specious  show  of  tender- 
ness, concealed  the  devouring  appetite  of  the  wildest  of  his  tribe.  The 
wretch  had  torn  the  innocent  creature  limb  from  limb,  and  fled  to  the  forest, 
leaving  behind  him  nothing  of  the  poor  vidtim  of  a too-confiding  belief,  but 
the  deepest  sorrow  for  her  fate,  and  a half-devoured  and  fragmentary  fore- 
shoulder of  very  tender  gazelle  venison. 

Cheerful  as  he  was  in  society,  and  prone  to  bid  dull  care  begone,  when 
with  his  friends, — elastic  as  was  ever  the  rebound  of  his  spirits  from  the  pres- 
sure of  illness  and  anxiety,  like  all  artistic  organizations,  he  knew  the  throe 
as  well  as  the  thrill  ; and  when  fortune  ceased  to  smile,  while  wearing  a 
brave  exterior,  often  yielded  to  melancholy  forebodings,  as  witness  a record 


Inman. 


241 


in  his  diary  in  January,  1843  : “ Stayed  at  home  all  day  ; the  zest  and  cream 
of  life  are  gone  : $20,000  and  travelling  would  save  me  ; fine  prospedl  of 
starving  this  year  ! not  a soul  comes  to  me  for  pictures  : my  ambition  in 
art  is  gone.”  It  was  under  the  influence  of  this  hopeless  mood  that  the 
following  lines  were  written  and  sent  with  the  note  to  one  of  his  friends, 
whose  reply  is  annexed  : — 

“ On  my  return  last  night  after  helping  you  at  that  delightful  ‘ Feast  of 
Shells,’  my  fancy,  emboldened  by  its  recent  poetic  collision,  hatched  from 
out  my  pipe’s  smoke-spirals  the  accompanying  very  foggy  attempt  at  rhyme. 
Though  the  picture  is  a vile  daub,  it  is  drawn  from  my  own  sunshine  and 
shade  of  feeling : 

“ Now  listless  o’er  time’s  sullen  tide, 

My  barque  of  life  floats  idly  on  ; 

Truth’s  incense-laden  breeze  has  died 
And  passion’s  fitful  gusts  are  flown. 

While  sadly  round  her  aimless  course 
Now  lowering  brood  the  mental  skies, 

The  past  but  murmurs  of  remorse, 

And  dim  the  ocean  future  lies. 

And  must  this  be  ? My  soul,  arouse  ! 

See  through  the  passing  clouds  of  ill, 

How  Fame’s  proud  pharos  brightly  glows, 

And  gilds  thy  drooping  pennant  still. 

Stretch  to  thine  oar,  yon  beam  thy  guide, 

Spread  to  ambition’s  Ifeshning  gale  ; 

Friendship  and  love  are  at  thy  side, 

While  glory’s  breathings  swell  thy  sails. 

“H.  I.” 


“ TO  H.  I. 


“ Oh  ! let  not  one  so  blest  as  thou 
Prate  of  an  aimless,  dim  career, 

Dash  every  shadow  from  thy  brow, 

And  bid  Hope’s  smiles  thy  vision  cheer. 

Old  Time  is  baffled  when  he  throws 
His  spells  round  such  a heart  as  thine  ; 

Its  native  warmth  dissolves  his  snows, 
And  makes  his  very  frown  divine. 

If  clouds  will  darken  o’er  thy  way, 

They  cannot  settle  on  thy  heart, 

F or  thou  the  limner’s  wand  doth  sway 
To  tinge  their  gloom  with  rainbow  art. 

Despond  not,  while  with  master  hand 
’Tis  thine  such  life-like  scenes  to  trace, 

And  mirror  ocean,  sky,  and  land, 

Features  beloved,  and  forms  of  grace. 

Despond  not,  while  thy  presence  lends 
Wings  to  the  hours  of  social  joy, 

And  to  pure  gold,  for  all  thy  friends. 

So  oft  transmutes  life’s  base  alloy. 

l6 


242 


American  Artist  Life. 


Despond  not,  while  in  accents  deep, 

And  looks  with  earnest  meaning  fraught, 
’Tis  thine  to  waken  fancy’s  sleep, 

And  breathe  the  poet’s  wildest  thought. 

Despond  not,  while  a bond  so  fair 
Endeared  by  Nature’s  holiest  tie, 

Lures  thee  from  weary  thoughts  of  care, 

And  with  love’s  glances  meets  thine  eye. 

Perennial  youth  the  gifted  know, 

And  there  is  one  whose  spirit’s  tone 
By  filial  instindt  taught  to  glow, 

Seems  the  dear  echo  of  thy  own. 

Then  trim  thy  gallant  barque  with  glee, 

And  haunt  Doubt’s  listless  stream  no  more, 
Steer  bravgly  through  Fame’s  open  sea, 

And  rear  thy  home  on  Glory’s  shore  ! ” 


Fifty  years  ago  Inman’s  best  miniatures  were  considered  equal  to  Mal- 
bone’s  ; he  relinquished  that  branch  to  Cummings,  and  devoted  himself  to 
oil  portraits.  Like  all  artists  in  this  department,  inequality  marks  his  career; 
but  when  subjeCt,  sympathy,  and  mental  condition  united  harmoniously, 
the  result  was  memorable.  Among  his  most  characteristic  works  are  por- 
traits of  Chief-Justice  Jones,  of  Mrs.  Inman,  Van  Buren,  Colonel  Johnson, 
President  Duer,  Sully,  Colonel  Fish,  Mr.  Rawle,  Professor  Mapes,  General 
Morton,  his  daughter,  Henry  Eckford,  Audubon,  Chief-Justice  Nelson, 
Manager  Simpson,  Bishop  Delancey,  Horace  Binney,  Clara  Fisher,  Captain 
McKenzie,  and  Mr.  Ingersoll.  His  landscapes  and  genre  compositions  in- 
clude “ Scene  from  the  Bride  of  Lammermoor,”  “ Birnam  Wood,”  “ Rydal 
Water,”  “The  Newsboy,”  “ Mumble-the-Peg,”  “Family  Groups,”  “The 
Brothers,”  “ The  Sisters,”  Sterne’s  “ Maria,”  “ Woodland  Scene,” 
“Boyhood  of  Washington,”  “ Trout-Fishing  in  Sullivan  County,”  “The 
Lake  of  the  Dismal  Swamp,”  “ Landscape,”  “ Rip  Van  Winkle  Awaking,” 
and  numerous  pen,  crayon,  and  lithographic  studies,  sketches,  and 
portraits. 

His  portraits  of  Dr.  Chalmers  and  of  Mrs.  Lenox  are  in  the  collection 
of  James  Lenox,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  who  also  has  his  “ Group  of  Heads 
after  Reynolds,”  “ The  Dismissal  of  a Country  School  on  an  OCtober 
Afternoon,”  and  “ Dundreman  Abbey.”  His  portrait  of  Wordsworth  is 
in  the  possession  of  the  Reed  family,  and  that  of  Macaulay  in  the  collection 
of  H.  C.  Carey,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia  ; his  portrait  of  Judge  Savage,  of 
Utica,  N.  Y.,  is  in  the  possession  of  his  daughter  ; his  portrait  of  Lafayette 
is  in  the  Governor’s  room  at  the  Capitol,  Albany  ; that  of  De  Witt  Clinton 
belongs  to  J.  H.  Prentice  ; that  of  Mr.  Lefferts,  a fine  specimen,  to  C.  Car- 
son  Brevoort,  of  Bedford,  L.  I.  ; that  of  Mrs.  Thomas  McKean  belongs  to 
PL  Pratt  McKean,  of  Philadelphia,  and  that  of  Bishop  White  to  Mr.  Mc- 
Murtrie,  of  the  same  city  ; his  portrait  of  William  Wirt  is  in  the  Boston 
Athenaeum;  Dr.  Parmlee,  of  New  York,  has  three  of  his  miniatures  ; his 


Liman. 


243 


portraits  of  Van  Buren  and  Seward,  and  of  Mayors  Lawrence,  Clark,  and 
Varian  are  in  the  Governor’s  room,  New  York  City  Hall, — where  that  of 
Mayor  Harper  is  the  joint  work  of  Huntington  and  himself.  His  picture 
of  Hackett  as  Rip  Van  Winkle,  and  his  portrait  of  Bishop  Moore,  are  in  the 
collection  of  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; his  copy  of  the  portrait 
of  Penn  is  in  Independence  Hall,  Philadelphia;  that  of  Fanny  Kemble 
belongs  to  Jonathan  Sturgis,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 

The  following  is  a sketch  of  a visit  to  his  studio  three  years  before  his 
death  : 

Now  let  us  go  to  Henry  Inman’s.  Would  you  not  know  him  for  a man 
of  genius  at  a glance  ? His  air  and  smile,  the  lines  of  mental  activity  in 
his  face,  the  very  fall  of  his  long  hair,  would  stamp  him  in  a crowd  as  a 
weaver  of  “ such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of.”  His  countenance  has  that 
interest  which  lies  in  expression,  an  interest  far  transcending  mere  regu- 
larity of  outline  or  beauty  of  individual  feature,  because  we  always  asso- 
ciate it  with  character.  It  seems  less  the  offspring  of  accident,  has  a more 
intimate  relation  with  the  soul,  and  is  a characteristic  over  which  time  has 
no  power.  An  artist  of  some  sort  we  could  safely  aver  him  to  be ; whether 
in  the  sphere  of  language,  sound,  colors,  or  marble,  would  be  a subsequent 
question.  His,  however,  is  no  confined  ability,  but  rather  the  liberal  scope 
of  an  intellectual  man.  He  converses  delightfully,  recites  with  peculiar 
effeCt,  has  a discriminating  sympathy  for  literature,  the  drama,  and  “ the 
comedy  of  life,”  with  genial  social  instinCts,  and  a warm  appreciation  of 
whatever  appeals  to  the  imagination,  or  involves  any  principle  of  taste. 
In  his  own  particular  art,  Inman  is  one  of  the  most  versatile  of  American 
limners.  We  remember  an  anecdote  of  some  lover  of  Art,  who  visited  a 
public  gallery,  and  after  surveying  numerous  pictures,  selected  a landscape 
as  especially  worthy  of  his  future  attention  ; he  next  was  attracted  by  an 
Indian  group,  then  by  some  historical  figures,  and  at  last  by  a portrait. 
Upon  referring  to  the  catalogue  to  identify  the  painters  of  his  favorites, 
what  was  his  surprise  to  find  all  four  to  be  the  work  of  Inman  ! There 
was  a charming  example  of  his  pleasant  invention,  at  one  of  the  Academy 
Exhibitions.  It  represented  two  boys  playing  mumble-peg,  or  stick-knife, 
on  a green  bank  in  summer.  Such  exuberant  juvenility  as  their  faces  and 
attitude  displayed  ! It  was  a most  happy  touch  of  nature,  the  work  of 
three  afternoons, — such  a one  as  stirs  a pulse  in  every  heart.  It  brings 
back  the  days  of  boyhood,  like  magic — the  “ unchartered  freedom  ” of  that 
bright  age,  and  its  buoyant  air  of  careless  enjoyment.  The  freshness  of 
their  looks,  like  the  verdure  on  which  they  are  stretched,  is  as  the  smile 
of  the  blest  spring  that  preceded  the  manhood  “of  our  discontent,” — 
gleaming  through  the  long  vista  of  years.  Benign  old  gentlemen  used  to 
stop  before  the  little  gem,  and  smile,  and  then  grow  thoughtful. 

We  are  fortunate  in  our  visit.  There  is  one  of  the  first  trophies  of 
Inman’s  genius — a youthful  production,  but  most  felicitous  and  promising. 
Even  now  he  may  contemplate  it  with  satisfaction.  It  illustrates  Irving’s 
delightful  story.  Look  at  those  still,  tall  trees,  the  sunrise  glimmering 


244 


American  Artist  Life . 


through  that  opening  which  reveals  a sweet  glimpse  of  the  Hudson,  with 
a sail  gliding  by.  See  yon  eagle  sailing  through  the  air.  Comes  there  not 
the  almost  oppressive  tranquillity  of  a summer  morning  over  your  senses  ? 
Do  you  not  long  to  fling  yourself  upon  the  turf,  and  repose  amid  the  balmy 
woodland  silence,  broken  only  by  the  song  of  birds  ? Do  you  not  recognize 
a knoll  of  the  Catskill  ? And  there,  just  raising  himself,  with  a bewildered 
stare  and  a constrained  elongation  of  his  stiff  limbs,  is  Rip  Van  Winkle 
himself!  There  are  his  old-fashioned  breeches,  his  long  beard  and  hair, 
his  rubicund  and  wife-subdued  countenance.  Beside  him  is  the  antique 
gun,  with  rank  grass  waving  over  it.  The  lock  is  green  and  mouldy,  and 
the  poor  fellow’s  hat  actually  has  assumed  a half-vegetable  aspeCt.  Capi- 
tal,— is  it  not  ? And  what  think  you  of  this  pidture — those  two  boys  gaz- 
ing at  each  other  with  angry,  bullying  faces  (a  patrician  and  a rustic),  eredt, 
full  of  pluck  and  combativeness,  yet  awed  into  a kind  of  dogged  reconcilia- 
tion by  the  third  youth  who  has  stepped  between  them  ? There  is  some- 
thing familiar  in  the  latter’s  countenance.  Dignity  blends  even  with  its 
childlike  expression.  The  supremacy  of  character  already  exerts  itself 
not  only  in  adt  but  look.  You  feel  that  he  is  born  to  command.  The 
serenity  of  conscious  redtitude  and  moral  energy,  with  the  sweetness  of 
benevolent  purpose,  all  mingle  in  the  features.  Is  it  not  a pleasant  con- 
ception of  Washington  as  a boy  ? 

Inman  excelled  in  cabinet  pidtures  of  the  school,  though  not  in  the 
manner,  of  Leslie.  His  tadt  and  grace  in  this  sphere  would  have  insured 
his  success  in  England,  had  not  ill-health  and  domestic  claims  prematurely 
induced  his  return  to  the  United  States.  “ Mumble-the-Peg,”  and  “ The 
Boyhood  of  Washington,”  before  alluded  to,  are  very  charming  evidences 
of  the  artist’s  talent  in  this  way.  Each  explains  itself  with  simplicity  and 
truth.  These  scenes  will  bear  careful  examination  ; the  costumes,  figures, 
and  atmosphere,  are  all  combined  with  singular  beauty  ; and  there  is  a 
certain  felicity  of  combination  about  them,  which  convinces  us  that  Inman 
could  have  developed  the  same  vein  of  art  to  a great  extent,  and  with 
uncommon  versatility.  The  landscapes,  especially  “ Rydal  Water,”  “ Trout- 
Fishing,”  and  “ Birnam  Wood,”  are  very  pleasing  and  effective.  The 
foliage  is  not  depicted  as  minutely  as  some  painters  like,  but  at  a short 
distance  the  impression  is  more  like  nature.  The  water  is  admirable ; it 
glints  in  the  light,  or  gurgles  over  shallows  delightfully.  The  atmospheres, 
too,  abound  in  feeling.  Compare  the  crystal  serenity  of  that  of  “ Rydal 
Water,”  with  the  purple  glow  of  an  “ OCtober  Afternoon  ; ” we  not  only 
recognize  different  seasons  of  the  year,  but  different  countries  of  the 
world  ; and  yet  the  living  soul  of  Nature  breathes  with  delicate  loveliness 
through  both,  intimating  that  the  artist  was  in  relation  with  her  when  he 
thus  transferred  to  canvas  such  attractive  landscapes.  As  we  study  them, 
we  can  almost  feel  the  woodland  breeze,  and  hear  the  gurgle  of  the  water. 
There  is,  to  us,  a peculiar  charm  in  the  two  little  sketches  to  which  we 
have  before  alluded.  They  were  both,  it  seems,  executed  off-hand,  and 
yet  they  are  admirable  as  “ counterfeit  presentments,”  and  to  a mind  versed 


Inman. 


245 


in  the  technicalities  of  art,  suggest  Inman’s  readiness  and  ability  more 
significantly  than  highly-finished  and  elaborate  productions.  To  those 
who  are  familiar  with  the  countenances  of  the  subjedts,  we  need  not  praise 
their  fidelity  ; but  they  are  interesting  in  another  point  of  view — as  indica- 
tions of  that  fine  social  instinbt  that  endeared  Inman  to  his  friends.  The 
inscriptions  beneath  are  very  characteristic  of  the  man:  “*  * * will 
please  accept  this  leaden  counterfeit  of  the  genuine  coin,  which  never 
rings  false  to  any  test  of  its  metal,”  etc.  The  autograph  under  the  other 
head  runs  thus  : “Presented  to  * * * by  H.  I. 

“ Farewell  ! but  whenever  you  welcome  the  hour 
When  the  ‘smoke-wreaths’  of  mirth,”  etc.,  etc. 

Such  was  the  genial  manner  in  which  Inman  associated  with  his  friends. 
With  a freshness  of  spirit  that  neither  time  nor  illness  could  subdue,  he 
ever  cherished  most  kindly  and  noble  sympathies,  the  exercise  of  which 
strews  the  pathway  of  life  with  flowers,  lends  wings  to  hours  of  social  joy, 
and  redeems  human  intercourse  from  the  selfish  inanity  that  so  often  makes 
society  a wearisome,  instead  of  a- soul-cheering  influence. 

In  concluding  this  imperfedt  tribute,  we  should  be  false  to  our  sense  of 
duty  and  the  memory  of  the  departed,  did  we  not  urge  upon  our  country- 
men to  receive  the  lesson  thus  afforded,  and  adl  wisely  upon  its  teaching. 
We  have  always  regarded  one  charadleristic  of  our  nation  with  regret 
and  surprise.  It  is  their  slow  appreciation  of  native  merit  Innumerable 
fadts  prove  that  there  exists  a singular  want  of  confidence  in  the  genuine 
worth  of  the  intellectual  fruits  of  the  soil.  Take  literature,  for  instance. 
What  reflecting  observer  doubts  that  the  foundation  of  Irving’s  success 
was  laid  in  England  ? No  general  approbation  was  awarded  the  ethical 
essays  of  Channing,  until  his  transatlantic  fame  awoke  an  echo  in  the 
minds  of  his  countrymen.  One  of  the  greatest  historical  painters  of  the 
age  died  a few  years  ago  in  an  obscure  village  near  Boston.  While 
abroad,  his  society  was  deemed  a treasure  by  men  of  wealth  and  rank  ; at 
home  he  was  scarcely  noticed,  save  by  some  accomplished  foreigners,  who 
sought  out  his  retreat  to  do  homage  to  his  genius.  Metaphysicians  in  the 
Old  World  say  that  Edwards  on  the  Will  is  the  ablest  work  in  its  depart- 
ment which  has  been  produced  in  a century.  Its  merit  has  scarcely  been 
recognized  by  American  philosophers.  Again,  experiment  proves  that  it 
is  difficult  to  support  a single  native  Review,  wherein  the  topics  of  the 
day  may  be  discussed  by  our  own  critics  (and  we  have  as  good  as  the 
world  can  furnish),  while  the  coarse  and  partisan  views  of  foreign  Quar- 
terlies are  eagerly  adopted.  But  it  is  needless  to  multiply  instances.  We 
consider  recent  social  organizations  as  indications  that  this  suicidal  temper 
in  our  people  has  created  alarm,  at  least  in  relation  to  our  political  interests. 
We  hope  this  truly  patriotic  spirit  will  be  diffused,  and  penetrate  at  length 
all  the  latent  agencies  of  society.  Then  will  an  honest  pride  and  a foster- 
ing enthusiasm  guard  and  cherish  the  literature,  science,  and  art  indigenous 
to  the  land.  Let  us  not  wait  for  death  to  canonize  our  men  of  genius,  ere 


246  American  Artist  Life. 

we  appreciate  and  encourage  them.  Let  us  hail  their  advent  as  the  great- 
est blessing  to  the  Republic,  and  suffer  not  indifference  or  avarice  to  blind 
us  to  the  claims  of  rare  endowments,  to  the  humanizing  and  sacred  mission 
of  the  poet,  the  artist,  the  gifted  of  whatever  sphere.  Ere  it  be  too  late, 
let  the  fostering  hand  be  stretched  out,  the  cordial  recognition  vouchsafed, 
the  warm  sympathy  bestowed.  Thus  shall  the  great  problem  of  life  find 
beautiful  and  enduring  illustrations  here  ; and  the  sensitive  mind  of  genius 
be  quickened  and  strengthened  into  more  complete  and  lofty  development 


GREENOUGH* 


LTHOUGH  the  creations  of  the  artist  are  his  best  monu- 
ment, when  the  spirit  in  which  he  works  transcends  the 
limits  of  a special  vocation,  and  associates  him  with  the 
progress  of  society  and  the  happiness  of  his  friends,  a 
catalogue  raisonne  of  what  he  has  left  in  marble  or  colors, 
we  feel  to  be  an  incomplete  record  of  his  life.  The  death 
of  our  earliest  sculptor  caused  so  wide  and  sincere  a grief,  that  it  be- 
comes not  less  a sacred  duty  than  a melancholy  pleasure  to  trace  his 
career,  gather  up  the  tributes  to  his  genius,  and  endeavor  to  delineate  the 
features  of  his  character ; and  it  is  at  the  request  of  those  most  dear  to 
him,  as  well  as  from  a vivid  sentiment  of  affebtion  and  regret,  that  I have 
prepared  this  inadequate  memorial  of 


A life  that  all  the  muses  decked 

With  gifts  of  grace  that  might  express 
All-comprehensive  tenderness, 

All  subtilizing  intellect : 

Heart-affluence  in  discursive  talk 
From  household  fountains  never  dry  ; 

The  critic-clearness  of  an  eye, 

That  saw  through  all  the  Muses’  walk  : 

No  longer  caring  to  embalm 
I n dying  songs  or  dead  regret, 

But  like  a statue  solid-set, 

And  moulded  in  colossal  calm.f 

In  the  retrospect  and  the  impression  of  the  man,  it  is  as  an  American 
artist  in  feeling,  thought,  and  influence,  rather  than  as  exclusively  a 
sculptor,  that  he  claims  our  admiration  and  sympathy. 

Horatio  Greenough  was  born  in  Boston,  Massachusetts,  September  6, 
1805.  His  father  belonged  to  that  respebted  class  of  merchants  whose 
integrity,  enterprise,  and  intelligence,  half  a century  ago,  justly  gave  them 
a degree  of  consideration  which  is  almost  unknown  at  the  present  day. 
Comparatively  few  in  number,  and  abtive  in  the  political  and  social  life  of 


* From  the  Author’s  Memorial  of  Horatio  Greenough,  consisting  of  a Memoir,  Selections  from 
his  Writings,  and  Tributes  to  his  Genius.  New  York  : G.  P.  Putnam  & Co-  1853. 
t Tennyson’s  In  Memoriam. 


248 


American  Artist  Life. 


the  town,  they  almost  created  public  opinion,  and  were  remarkable  fo 
individuality  of  character,  not  less  than  a tone  of  mind  above  and  beyond 
the  mere  spirit  of  trade.  This  was  evinced  in  the  careful  manner  in  which 
their  children  were  brought  up,  and  the  intellectual  privileges  afforded 
them,  the  sacred  interest  attached  to  home,  and  the  superiority  of  the 
local  schools.  The  mother  of  Greenough  was  a native  of  Massachusetts, 
endowed  with  the  conscientious  affebtion  and  vigorous  intellect  that  are 
so  honorable  a distinction  of  the  genuine  New  England  matron.  He  was 
one  of  several  children,  and  shared  with  them  the  education  both  of  public 
and  private  seminaries,  and  of  the  domestic  circle. 

The  instinct  of  genius  discovers,  amid  circumstances  apparently  inaus- 
picious, the  means  and  incentives  for  its  development.  In  the  community 
where  Greenough  was  born  and  passed  his  early  years,  there  existed  a 
prevalent  taste  and  more  than  one  noble  example  to  encourage  the  votary 
of  letters  ; Stuart’s  masterpieces,  family  portraits  by  Copley,  a few  choice 
originals  and  many  fine  copies  from  the  old  masters,  as  well  as  the 
presence  of  native  artists  of  more  or  less  skill  and  fame,  offered  a stimu- 
lus to  the  cultivation  of  drawing  and  painting  ; the  system  of  popular 
education,  and  the  intellectual  tone  of  society,  were  also  highly  favorable 
to  individual  culture  in  its  general  relations  ; but  the  art  of  modelling  in 
clay  was  rarely  if  ever  practised,  the  specimens  of  sculpture  were  few, 
and  only  a strong  natural  bias  could  have  so  early  directed  Greenough’s 
aspirations  toward  the  art.  Having  a decided  sense  of  form,  a love  of 
imitating  it,  and  a mechanical  aptitude  which  kept  his  knife,  pencil,  and 
scissors  continually  abtive,  he  employed  hours  in  carving,  drawing,  and 
moulding  toys,  faces,  and  weapons,  by  way  of  amusing  himself  and  his 
comrades.  I have  seen  a head  evidently  taken  from  an  old  Roman  coin, 
executed  upon  a bit  of  compabt  plaster  about  the  size  of  a penny,  admir- 
ably cut  by  Greenough  with  a penknife  and  common  nail,  while  a school- 
boy, seated  upon  the  door-step  of  one  of  his  neighbors.  The  lady  who 
observed  this  achievement,  preserved  the  little  medal  with  religious  care  ; 
and  was  the  first  to  give  the  young  sculptor  a commission.  It  was  for  her 
that  he  executed  the  beautiful  ideal  bust  of  the  Genius  of  Love.  This 
propensity  soon  took  a higher  range.  It  was  encouraged  by  the  me- 
chanics and  professional  men  around  him,  whose  good-will  his  agreeable 
manners  and  obvious  genius  propitiated.  One  kind  artisan  taught  him  the 
use  of  fine  tools;  a stone-cutter  of  more  than  ordinary  taste,  instructed 
him  to  wield  a chisel ; benevolent  librarians  allowed  him  the  use  of  plates, 
casts,  and  manuals  ; a physician  gave  him  access  to  anatomical  designs 
and  illustrations  ; and  Binon,  a French  artist,  known  by  his  bust  of  John 
Adams  in  Faneuil  Hall,  Boston,  encouraged  him  to  model  at  his  side. 
Thus,  as  a mere  school-boy,  did  Greenough  glean  the  rudiments  of  an 
artistic  education  without  formal  initiation.  With  eclebtic  wisdom  he 
sought  and  found  the  aid  he  required,  while  exploring  the  streets  of  his 
native  town  ; one  day  he  might  be  seen  poring  over  a folio,  or  contemplat- 
ing a plaster  copy  of  a famous  statue  ; and,  on  another,  exercising  his 


Greenough. 


249 


mechanical  ingenuity  at  the  office  of  Solomon  Willard,  whose  family 
name  yet  stamps,  with  traditional  value,  many  an  old  dial-plate  in  New 
England  ; now  he  eagerly  watches  Alpheus  Cary  as  he  puts  the  finishing 
touch  to  a cherub’s  head  on  a tombstone  ; and,  again,  he  stand  a respect- 
ful devotee  before  Shaw  or  Cogswell,  waiting  for  some  treasured  volume 
on  the  process  or  the  results  of  his  favorite  art,  from  the  shelves  of  Har- 
vard and  the  Athenaeum.  Some  of  his  juvenile  triumphs  are  still  remem- 
bered by  his  playmates  — especially  a pistol  ornamented  with  relievo 
flowers  in  lead,  a series  of  carriages  moulded  in  beeswax,  scores  of 
wooden  daggers  tastefully  carved,  a lion  couchant,  modelled  with  a spoon 
from  a pound  of  butter,  to  astonish  his  mother’s  guests  at  tea,  elaborate 
card-paper  plans  for  estates,  and,  as  a climax  to  these  childish  yet  grace- 
ful experiments,  a little  figure  of  Penn  cut  in  chalk  from  an  engraving  of 
his  statue  in  the  “ Port-Folio.” 

There  is  no  truth  more  sustained  by  the  faCts  of  consciousness,  than  that 
the  mind  assimilates  only  its  legitimate  nutriment.  The  artist,  the  hero, 
and  the  lover  seem  hardly  conscious  of  any  element  of  life,  save  that  which 
ministers  to  their  idiosyncrasy  ; and  it  is  in  these  laws  of  character,  and  not 
in  any  external  appliances,  that  we  must  seek  a true  philosophy  of  life.  The 
real-estate  broker,  as  he  passed  the  home  of  the  young  sculptor,  saw  but  a 
certain  number  of  feet  of  ground,  and  perchance  speculated  on  its  value  ; 
but  the  ardent  gaze  of  the  boy  was  only  conscious  of  a statue  of  Phocion 
that  stood  in  the  garden.  The  mystery  of  that  figure,  the  process  of  its 
creation,  the  law  of  its  design,  were  the  great  problems  of  his  dawning  in- 
telligence ; he  was  sensible  of  a relation  to  the  sphere  of  human  aCtivity 
represented  by  that  image.  It  was  more  to  him  than  the  animated  forms 
in  the  street,  more  than  the  printed  characters  of  his  hornbook,  more  than 
an  academic  degree.  It  was  a nucleus  for  his  reveries,  a hint  to  his  inge- 
nuity, a prophecy  of  his  life.  It  kept  bright  and  palpable  to  his  young 
imagination  the  idea  of  being  a sculptor  ; and  though  the  language  of  State 
street,  Long  Wharf,  and  even  the  Old  South  Church,  gave  no  confirmation  to 
the  oracle,  to  him  its  silent  eloquence  was  none  the  less  impressive,  for 
his  nature  had  an  element  of  the  Greek  as  well  as  the  Puritan,  which  as- 
serted itself  in  spite  of  time  and  place. 

This  strong  tendency  for  art  did  not,  however,  alone  characterize  his 
mind.  The  graces  of  scholarship  were  equally  native.  At  school  and  col- 
lege he  excelled  in  the  classics,  and  exhibited  a command  of  language  and 
perception  of  the  beauties  of  expression,  such  as  usually  indicate  the  future 
orator  and  poet.  It  is  recorded  that  no  classmate  excelled  him  in  verbal 
memory  ; and  when  quite  a boy,  he  used  to  recite  a thousand  lines  of  Eng- 
lish verse,  at  a time,  without  error  or  hesitation.  Fortunately,  too,  his 
physical  development  kept  pace  with  his* mental  aCtivity.  He  was  a profi- 
cient in  all  manly  exercises.  Indeed,  that  peculiar  zest  of  aCtion  which 
belongs  to  organizations  at  once  nervous  and  muscular,  never  ceased  to 
inspire  him.  A good  horseman,  swimmer,  pedestrian — he  seemed  to  enjoy 
his  sensitive  and  athletic,  not  less  than  his  mental  being ; and  when,  at  the 


-So 


American  Artist  Life. 


age  of  sixteen,  he  entered  Harvard  University,  in  appearance  and  intellec- 
tual promise,  he  was  the  ideal  of  a gifted  youth.  It  is  remarkable  that 
while  his  family  had  given  no  diredt  encouragement  to  his  artistic  plans, 
and  made  it  a condition  of  their  future  realization  that  he  should  pass  through 
the  usual  academic  training,  he  found  at  Cambridge  the  highest  and  most 
valuable  inspiration  as  a votary  of  art  yet  experienced.  There,  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Dana,  he  became  acquainted  with  Washington  Allston,  who 
soon,  and,  as  it  were,,  by  the  law  of  nature,  became  his  master  ; not  that 
there  was  any  recognized  connection  of  the  kind  between  them,  but  an 
affinity  of  genius,  a mutual  worship  of  the  beautiful,  and  an  earnest  purpose 
quite  apart  from  and  above  those  around  them, — bound  together  in  the 
highest  sympathy,  the  mature,  religious  artist,  and  the  enthusiastic  youth. 
Long  afterwards  when  applied  to  for  some  biographical  data,  he  answered  : 
“ A note  to  Allston’ s Life  might  tell  all  of  me  that  is  essential  ” In  one  of 
hi's  letters  from  Italy,  at  a later  period,  he  declares — e<  Allston  was  to  me  a 
father  in  what  concerned  my  progress  of  every  kind.  He  taught  me  first 
how  to  discriminate,  how  to  think,  how  to  feel.  Before  I knew  him  I felt 
strongly,  but  blindly  ; and  if  I should  never  pass  mediocrity,  I should  attrib- 
ute it  to  my  absence  from  him,  so  adapted  did  he  seem  to  kindle  and  en- 
lighten me,  making  me  no  longer  myself,  but,  as  it  were,  an  emanation  from 
his  own  soul  and  on  his  last  return  to  America,  he  said  with  emotion  to 
a friend,  that  the  only  thought  which  cast  a shadow  over  his  heart,  was  that 
Allston  was  no  more. 

A classmate  with  whom  he  was  intimate  intended  to  become  a physi- 
cian, and,  while  an  undergraduate,  began  his  medical  inquiries.  The  two 
young  men,  one  for  a professional  and  the  other  for  an  artistic  objebl,  en- 
gaged with  zeal  in  anatomical  investigations.  The  sister  of  this  college 
friend  of  Greenough,  remembers  the  ardor  and  mutual  interest  with  which 
they  carried  on  this  pursuit — often  bringing  anatomical  preparations  to  the 
house,  and  always  impatient  to  return  to  Cambridge  before  the  evening  of 
their  weekly  holiday,  in  order  to  hear  Allston’s  conversation.  It  was  a 
habit  with  him  to  visit  his  friend  Edmund  Dana  on  Saturdays  ; the  two 
students  occupied  rooms  in  the  house  of  the  latter  gentleman,  whom  they 
always  called  “ the  master,”  on  account  of  his  serene  wisdom  and  fine  per- 
ception in  art  and  letters  ; and  to  hear  the  two  men,  whom  they  most  deeply 
revered,  talk,  was  to  them  at  once  inspiration  and  knowledge  beyond  the 
teachings  of  the  University — the  invaluable  episode  of  their  academic  life. 

It  was  rare  in  those  early  days  and  in  that  latitude  to  find  a genuine 
lover  of  art  ; as  a career  the  practical  and  commercial  spirit  of  the  people 
repudiated  it ; and  among  the  educated,  professional  life  combined  with  the 
honors  of  literature  and  statesmanship,  yielded  almost  the  only  prizes  of 
ambition.  Artists  were,  therefore,  comparatively  isolated  ; and  we  can 
readily  imagine  the  pleasure  with  which  a painter  at  once  so  benign  and 
highly  endowed  as  Allston  would  welcome  to  his  own  sphere  another,  with 
a mind  so  finely  tempered  and  prophetic  of  excellence,  as  Greenough.  Ac- 
cordingly the  best  hours  of  the  latter’s  college-life  were  those  passed  with 


G re  enough. 


251 


Allston  ; from  him  he  caught  the  most  elevated  ideal  of  art,  a sense  of  its 
dignity,  a courage  to  face  its  inevitable  discipline,  and  a faith  in  its  great 
rewards.  This  intercourse  gave  consistency  to  Greenough’s  aims  and 
new  vigor  to  his  resolution  ; it  was  also  a source  of  the  highest  immediate 
enjoyment.  A few  perhaps  of  the  friends  of  either  yet  recall  the  scene 
presented,  on  a moonlight  evening  of  summer,  when  they  were  the  central 
figures  of  a charmed  group  on  the  piazza — around  them  the  glimmering 
foliage,  dark  sward,  and  bright  firmament ; — the  spiritual  countenance  and 
long  silvery  hair  of  Allston,  wearing  the  semblance  of  a bard  or  prophet, 
and  the  tall  agile  figure  and  radiant  face  of  his  young  disciple,*  both  intent 
upon  a genial  theme.  Those  hours  were  memorable  to  the  casual  auditors  ; 
and  to  Greenough  they  were  fraught  with  destiny.  His  nature  was  essen- 
tially sympathetic  ; example  and  personal  communion  taught  him  infinitely 
more  than  books.  He  required  heat  as  well  as  light  to  inform  and  mould 
his  mind,  and  the  friendship  and  conversation  of  such  an  artist  as  our  great 
painter,  at  this  most  susceptible  epoch  of  his  life,  could  not  but  give  a new 
impetus  and  a sanction  to  his  genius. 

There  was  an  exuberance  and  variety  in  his  youthful  mind  that  charmed 
elder  companions,  and  awoke  in  them  a prophetic  interest.  The  routine 
of  college-life  was,  indeed,  subordinate,  in  his  estimation,  to  the  practice 
of  art  and  the  enjoyment  of  gifted  society  ; and  yet,  by  virtue  of  a natural 
aptitude  and  an  honorable  spirit,  he  fulfilled  the  allotted  tasks  with  eminent 
fidelity,  and  excelled  in  all  branches  save  mathematics,  for  which  he  had  an 
instinctive  dislike.  In  the  intervals  of  these  studies  he  cultivated  his  pri- 
vate tastes  with  an  assiduity  that  surprised  his  most  intimate  associates. 
One  of  these,  now  a venerable  man,  has  told  me,  with  a glow  of  affectionate 
pride,  of  a landscape  that  Greenough  painted  while  an  under-graduate,  of 
some  beautiful  sonnets  he  then  composed,  and  of  an  excellent  facsimile 
he  wrought  of  a bust  of  Napoleon.  While  such  evidences  of  genius  won 
for  him  the  high  regard  of  his  own,  a handsome  person,  animated  conver- 
sation, and  graceful  manners,  rendered  him  a favorite  with  the  other  sex  ; 
yet  amid  the  calls  upon  his  time,  and  the  constant  exercise  of  his  powers, 
incident  to  such  a position,  the  primary  direction  of  his  mind  never  wavered. 
Sculpture  was  the  art  to  which  he  had  long  resolved  to  dedicate  his 
life  ; and  to  this  were  given  the  hours  not  absorbed  by  his  college  duties 
and  his  friends.  He  modelled,  at  this  period,  a bust  of  Washington  from 
Stuart’s  portrait,  and  others  of  his  own  contemporaries,  from  life.  A pro- 
posal for  designs  for  the  monument  on  Bunker  Hill  having  been  issued, 
Greenough  constructed  a model  in  wood  which  was  at  once  selected  by  the 
committee,  although  the  prize  they  offered  the  successful  competitor  was 
never  bestowed  upon  him  who  was  fully  entitled  to  it.  The  interior  ar- 


* One  who  knew  him  well  later  in  life  remarks  : “ Greenough  was  one  of  the  best  looking  men  I 
ever  met.  He  had  a heroic  figure,  fashioned  for  the  triumphs  of  the  ancient  games.  He  was  full 
six  feet  high,  and  perfectly  symmetrical.  Partial  baldness  prevented  his  fine  features  from  leaving,  at 
first,  the  impression  which  they  were  sure  to  make  upon  those  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  become 
familiar  with  them.” 


American  Artist  Life. 


rangement  of  the  work  was  planned  by  another,  but  the  form,  proportions, 
and  style  of  the  monument  were  adopted  from  Greenough’s  model ; and 
the  simple,  majestic,  and  noble  structure  that  designates  the  early  battle- 
field of  the  American  Revolution  is  thus  indissolubly  associated  with  his 
name.  His  preference  for  the  obelisk  seems  to  have  been  confirmed  by 
subsequent  observation  ; and  the  reasons  he  assigns  for  this  choice,  in  one 
of  his  papers  on  Art,  are  certainly  not  less  forcible  than  just.  In  anticipa- 
tion of  his  residence  abroad,  he  also  began,  while  at  college,  the  study  of 
the  Italian  language,  and  could  speak  it. with  considerable  fluency  months 
before  he  embarked  for  Europe.  Another  instance  of  this  facility  in  ac- 
quiring a foreign  tongue  occurred  many  years  later,  when,  on  the  occasion 
of  a visit  to  Graefenburg  for  the  health  of  his  family,  he  became  an  excel- 
lent German  scholar,  Italian,  Jiowever,  continued  to  be  his  favorite  lan- 
guage, and  during  the  last  few  days  of  his  life,  only  its  soft  vowels  escaped 
his  fevered  lips. 

From  diffidence,  he  wished  to  avoid  the  delivery  of  his  part,  which  had 
not  only  been  awarded  but  written  ; and  towards  the  close  of  his  senior 
year,  with  the  approbation  of  the  college  government,  he  availed  himself 
of  a favorable  opportunity,  and  embarked  for  Marseilles.  Thence  he  pro- 
ceeded to  Rome.  It  was  at  that  period  uncommon  for  an  American  student 
of  art  to  take  up  his  residence  there  ; and  Greenough  was  the  pioneer  of 
his  country’s  sculptors.  He  engaged  with  zeal  in  the  usual  course  of  ob- 
servation and  practice,  drawing  and  modelling  from  life  at  the  Academy, 
and  from  the  antique  at  the  Vatican.  His  habits  of  self-denial  and  simple 
tastes  were  confirmed  by  this  systematic  discipline.  “ I began  to  study  art 
in  Rome,’’  he  observes  ; (l  until  then  I had  rather  amused  myself  with  clay 
and  marble  than  studied.  When  I say  that  those  materials  were  familiar 
to  my  touch,  I say  all  that  I profited  by  my  boyish  efforts.  It  was  not  until 
I had  run  through  all  the  galleries  and  studios  of  Rome,  and  had  under 
my  eye  the  genial  forms  of  Italy,  that  I began  to  feel  Nature’s  value.  I 
had  before  adored  her,  but  as  a Persian  does  the  sun,  with  my  face  to  the 
ground.”  Hence  he  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  Thorwaldsen,  and  his  com- 
panion at  this  time  was  R.  W.  Weir,  the  painter  ; they  occupied  rooms  in 
the  house  known  as  Claude’s,  on  the  Pincian  Hill.  After  long  and  severe 
application,  a severe  illness,  induced  by  the  malaria,  so  prostrated  Green- 
ough as  to  induce  his  return  home  ; and  his  faithful  brother-artist  not  only 
watched  over  him  abroad,  but  accompanied  him  to  the  United  States.  The 
voyage  completely  restored  his  health,  and  a visit  of  several  months  among 
his  friends  was  not  unprofitably  occupied  in  executing  several  busts  of  his 
distinguished  countrymen.  At  Paris,  also,  he  remained  awhile  to  execute 
a bust  of  Lafayette.  “ The  bust  of  David,”  says  Cooper,  in  allusion  to  this 
work,  ‘-is  like,  it  cannot  be  mistaken,  but  it  is  in  his  ordinary  manner — 
heroic  or  poetical  ; on  the  other  hand,  the  bust  of  Greenough  is  the  very 
man,  and  should  be  dear  to  us  in  proportion  as  it  is  faithful.  As  Lafayette 
himself  expressed  it,  ‘ one  is  a French  bust,  the  other  an  American.’  ” On 
his  return  to  Italy,  Greenough  passed  many  weeks  at  the  quarries  of  Car- 


253 


Greenough. 

rara,  a fine  school  for  the  practical  details  of  statuary  ; and  then  proceeded 
to  Florence,  where  he  took  up  his  abode.  It  was  here,  in  the  autumn  of 
1833,  that  I first  met  him,  and  I quote  from  impressions  soon  after 
recorded  : — 

“ On  one  of  the  last  afternoons  preceding  my  embarkation,  I had  sat  a 
long  hour  opposite  a striking,  though  by  no  means  faithful  portrait  of 
Greenough,  while  one  of  the  fairest  of  his  kindred  spoke  fondly  of  him, 
and  charged  me  with  many  a message  of  love  for  the  gifted  absentee.  On 
a table  beneath  the  picture  stood  one  of  the  earliest  products  of  his  chisel. 
I glanced  from  the  countenance  of  the  young  sculptor,  to  the  evidence  of 
his  dawning  genius  ; I listened  to  the  story  of  his  exile  ; and  thenceforth 
he  was  enshrined  high  and  brightly  among  the  ideals  of  my  memory. 
With  rapid  steps,  therefore,  the  morning  after  my  arrival  in  Florence,  I 
threaded  the  narrow  througlifare,  passed  the  gigantic  cathedral,  nor  turned 
aside  until,  from  the  end  of  a long  and  quiet  street,  I discerned  the  arch- 
way which  led  to  the  domicile  of  my  countryman.  Associations  arose 
within  me,  such  as  the  time-hallowed  and  novel  objeCts  around  failed  to 
inspire.  There  was  a peculiar  charm  in  the  idea  of  visiting  the  foreign 
studio  of  a countryman  devoted  to  the  art  of  sculpture,  to  one  who  was 
fresh  from  the  stirring  atmosphere  of  his  native  metropolis.  Traversing 
the  court  and  stairway,  I could  but  scan  the  huge  fragments  of  marble  that 
lined  them,  ere  entering  a side  door,  I found  myself  in  the  presence  of  the 
artist.  Fie  was  seated  beside  a platform,  contemplating  an  unfinished 
model,  which  bore  the  impress  of  recent  moulding.  I11  an  adjoining 
apartment  was  the  group  of  the  Guardian  Angel  and  Child — the  counte- 
nances already  radiant  with  distinctive  and  touching  loveliness,  and  the 
limbs  exhibiting  their  perfect  contour,  although  the  more  graceful  and 
delicate  lines  were  as  yet  undeveloped.  One  by  one  I recognized  the 
various  plaster  casts  about  the  room — mementos  of  his  former  labors.  My 
eye  fell  on  a bust  which  awakened  sea  and  forest  pictures — the  spars  of  an 
elegant  craft,  the  lofty  figure  of  a hunter,  the  dignified  bearing  of  a myste- 
rious pilot.  It  was  the  physiognomy  of  Cooper.  And  yon  original,  arch- 
looking gentleman  ? Ah  ! that  can  be  no  other  than  Francis  Alexander. 
Surely  those  Adonis-like  ringlets,  so  daintily  carved,  belong  to  one  whom 
it  is  most  pleasing  to  remember  as  the  writer  of  some  exquisite  verses 
under  the  signature  of  Roy.  No  one  can  mistake  the  benevolent  features 
of  Lafayette,  or  the  expressive  image  of  the  noble  pilgrim-bard  ; or  fail  to 
linger  in  the  corridor,  over  the  embodiment  of  one  of  his  fairest  creations 
— the  figure  of  the  dead  Medora.  In  other  studios  of  the  land  I beheld  a 
more  numerous  and  imposing  array  ; but  in  none  could  I discover  more 
of  that  individuality  of  design  and  execution  which  characterizes  native 
intellectual  results. 

“ Coleridge’s  favorite  prescription  for  youthful  atheism  was  love  ; on  the 
same  principle  would  we  commend  to  the  admiration  of  the  scoffer  at  a 
spiritual  philosophy,  the  unwavering  and  martyr-like  progress  of  genius 
towards  its  legitimate  end.  In  this  characteristic,  the  course  of  all  gifted 


254 


American  Artist  Life. 


beings  agrees.  They  have  a mission  to  fulfil ; and  lured  betimes,  as  they 
may  be,  by  the  flowers  of  the  wayside,  and  baffled  awhile,  as  is  the  destiny 
of  man,  by  vicissitude — from  first  to  last  the  native  impulse,  the  true  direc- 
tion, is  everywhere  discernible.  In  the  case  of  Greenough,  this  definite- 
ness of  aim,  this  solemnity  of  determination,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  is  re- 
markably evident.  Often  did  he  incur  the  penalty  of  tardiness,  by  lingering 
to  gaze  at  a wooden  eagle  which  surmounted  the  gateway  of  an  old  edifice, 
he  daily  passed  on  his  way  to  school — thinking,  as  he  told  me,  how  beauti- 
ful it  must  be  to  carve  such  a one. 

“ When  he  arrived  in  Genoa  he  was  yet  in  his  minority.  He  entered 
a church.  A statue,  more  perfect  than  he  had  ever  beheld,  met  his  eye. 
With  wonder  he  saw  hundreds  pass  it  by,  without  bestowing  even  a glance. 
He  gazed  in  admiration  on  the  work  of  art,  and  marked  the  careless  crowd, 
till  a new  and  painful  train  of  thought  was  suggested.  ‘ What  ! ’ he  soli- 
loquized, ‘ are  the  multitude  so  accustomed  to  beautiful  statues  that  even 
this  fails  to  excite  their  passing  notice  ? How  presumptuous,  then,  in  me, 
to  hope  to  accomplish  anything  worthy  of  the  art ! ’ He  was  deeply  moved 
as  the  distance  between  himself  and  the  goal  he  had  fondly  hoped  to  reach 
widened  to  his  view  ; and  concealing  himself  among  the  rubbish  of  a palace- 
yard,  the  young  and  ardent  exile  sought  relief  in  tears.  ‘ O genius  ! ’ I 
mused,  going  forth  with  this  anecdote  fresh  from  his  lips,  ‘how  mysterious 
thou  art  ! And  yet  how  identical  are  the  characteristics  of  thy  children  ! 
Susceptible  and  self-distrusting,  and  yet  vividly  conscious  of  high  endow- 
ments— slow  to  execute  and  quick  to  feel — pressing  on  amid  the  winning- 
voices  of  human  allurements,  or  the  wailing  cry  of  human  weakness  and 
want — as  pilgrims  bent  on  an  errand  of  more  than  earthly  import,  through 
a night  of  dimness  and  trial,  and  yet  ever  beholding  the  star,  hearing  the 
angel-choir,  and  hastening  on  to  worship  1 5 

“ On  one  of  the  most  beautiful  evenings  of  my  visit,  I accompanied 
Greenough  to  the  studio  where  he  proposed  to  eredt  his  statue  of  Wash- 
ington. It  was  a neat  edifice,  which  had  formerly  been  used  as  a chapel ; 
and,  from  its  commodious  size  and  retired  situation,  seemed  admirably 
adapted  to  his  purpose.  The  softened  effulgence  of  an  Italian  twilight 
glimmered  through  the  high  windows,  and  the  quiet  of  the  place  was 
invaded  only  by  distant  rural  sounds  and  the  murmur  of  the  nearest 
foliage  in  the  evening  breeze.  There  was  that  in  the  scene  and  its  sug- 
gestions, which  gratified  my  imagination.  I thought  of  the  long  and 
soothing  days  of  approaching  summer, 'which  my  companion  would  devote, 
in  this  solitary  and  pleasant  retreat,  to  his  noble  enterprise.  I silently 
rejoiced  that  the  blessed  ministry  of  nature  would  be  around  him,  to  solace, 
cheer,  and  inspire,  when  his  energies  were  bending  to  their  glorious  task  ; 
— that  when  weariness  fell  upon  his  spirit,  he  could  step  at  once  into  the 
luxurious  air,  and  look  up  to  the  deep  green  cypresses  of  Fiesole,  or  bare 
his  brow  to  the  mountain  wind,  and  find  refreshment ; — that  when  doubt 
and  perplexity  baffled  his  zeal,  he  might  turn  his  gaze  towards  the  palace 
roofs  and  church  domes  of  Florence,  and  recall  the  trophies  of  art,  wrought 


Greenough. 


255 


out  by  travail,  misgivings,  and  care,  that  are  garnered  beneath  them  ; that 
when  his  hope  of  success  should  grow  faint,  he  might  suspend  the  chisel’s 
movement,  raise  his  eye  to  the  western  horizon,  and  remember  the  land 
for  which  he  toiled.”* 

Greenough  then  occupied  the  wing  of  a somewhat  dreary  palazzo  near 
the  Porta  Pinti  ; the  window  of  his  studio,  however,  commanded  views  of 
an  extensive  garden  ; and  one  of  the  rooms  was  fitted  up  in  the  American 
style.  Here,  beside  a wood  fire,  on  winter  evenings,  it  was  his  delight  to 
greet  two  or  three  friends  around  the  tea-table,  speculate  on  the  news  from 
home,  criticise  works  of  art,  and  tell  stories.  I recall,  with  melancholy 
pleasure,  many  of  these  occasions.  Pie  would  often  occupy  himself  with 
pen  or  crayon  while  thus  enjoying  a social  hour  ; sometimes  covering  a 
sheet  of  paper  with  the  remembered  faces  of  the  absent  and  the  loved  ; 
and,  at  others,  making  elaborate  and  carefully  wrought  designs  for  a basso- 
relievo  or  statue.  He  had  studies  enough  for  twenty  years’  use  partially 
sketched  at  the  time  of  his  death.  A fine  specimen  of  his  facility  and 
precision  as  a draughtsman  is  before  me  as  I write — his  parting  gift  when 
I left  Florence.  It  represents  Orestes  tormented  by  the  Furies  ; the  clear, 
fine  outline  and  statuesque  effeCt,  as  well  as  the  relief  of  the  figures,  are 
given  with  the  finish  of  an  excellent  engraving.  Not  less  pleasant  in  the 
retrospect,  are  the  walks  we  used  to  take,  some  years  later,  during  a 
remarkably  fine  autumn.  He  beguiled  the  way  with  humorous  anecdotes, 
descriptions  of  men  and  places,  and  remarks  on  art  and  letters.  There 
was  a vivacious,  liberal,  and  often  brilliant  tone  in  those  by-way  conversa- 
tions that  indicated  a mental  affluence  in  the  highest  degree  winsome  and 
satisfactory.  We  were  usually  accompanied  by  a remarkably  fine  English 
greyhound,  a great  pet  of  Greenough’s,  called  Arno,  whose  intelligent  gam- 
bols always  amused  him ; this  favorite  dog  lived  to  a green  old  age,  and 
his  marble  effigy,  in  an  attitude  peculiar  to  him,  from  the  chisel  of  his 
master,  long  ornamented  the  library  of  the  Hon.  Edward  Everett. 

Comparatively  isolated,  however,  in  the  pursuit  of  his  art,  at  a distance 
from  home,  and  destitute  of  that  encouragement  which  the  natives  of 
Europe  bestow  upon  their  artistic  countrymen,  Greenough’s  first  years  in 
Florence  were  passed  with  little  but  dreams  of  hope,  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  improvement,  to  sustain  him.  There  were  periods,  at  this  time, 
when  the  young  sculptor  was  depressed  and  nervous  ; — as  month  after 
month  flitted  by  and  brought  him  no  commissions.  The  Americans  who 
visited  Italy,  delighted  in  his  society  and  respeffled  his  self-devotion  ; but 
few  had  the  means,  and  very  few  the  taste  and  liberality  to  give  him  sub- 
stantial aid.  Fie  occupied  himself  upon  busts,  designs,  and  studies  ; and 
realized  that  in  art,  as  in  life,  u they  also  serve  who  only  stand  in  wait.” 

It  was  about  this  period,  however,  that  his  heart  was  cheered  by  the 
reception  of  anonymous  pecuniary  aid.  He  never  discovered  the  source 
ot  this  kindly  benefaCtion  ; but  circumstances  justified  him  in  the  con- 
viction that  it  was  sent  from  his  native  city.  To  evince  his  gratitude 

* Italian  Sketch  Book. 


256 


American  Artist  Life. 


he  had  recourse  to  an  artistic  device  worthy  of  his  genius.  He  sent  to  a 
friend  in  Boston  a basso-relievo  in  marble,  representing  a student  intent 
upon  his  book  ; a lamp  burns  before  him,  and  a hand  mysteriously  thrust 
from  the  cloud  above,  is  feeding  it  with  oil.  The  design  is  well  executed  ; 
and  the  unknown  benefactor  must  have  thrilled  with  pleasure  at  so  grace- 
ful an  acknowledgment.  He  always  referred  with  graceful  emotion,  also, 
to  the  gleam  of  sunshine  which  encouraged  him,  at  this  crisis,  in  the 
friendship  of  our  late  renowned  novelist  —Cooper.  The  American  sympa- 
thies of  this  distinguished  man,  as  well  as  his  personal  affedtion,  were 
excited  by  Greenough.  One  day  they  paused  in  one  of  the  saloons  of  the 
Pitti  palace,  before  a capo  d1  opera  of  Raphael,  and  the  artist  pointed  out 
to  his  companion  the  fine  drawing  exhibited  in  two  little  angelic  figures  in 
the  foreground,  in  the  a6l  of  holding  an  open  book,  and  singing.  Cooper 
inquired  if  a subject  like  this  was  not  well  adapted  to  sculpture;  after- 
wards, one  of  his  daughters  copied  the  figures  ; and  the  result  of  their 
mutual  interest  in  the  design,  was  an  order  from  Cooper  for  a group, 
which  in  a few  months  Greenough  executed  in  marble.  It  was  afterwards 
exhibited  in  America,  under  the  name  of  the  “ Chanting  Cherubs  ; ” and 
not  only  proved  a most  acceptable  immediate  encouragement,  but  served 
to  introduce  the  artist  to  his  countrymen.  In  allusion  to  this  subject,  the 
artist  observes  in  a letter  written  some  years  after:  “Fenimore  Cooper 
saved  me  from  despair  after  my  return  to  Italy.  He  employed  me  as  I 
wished  to  be  employed  ; and  up  to  this  moment  has  been  as  a father  to 
me.” 

This  was  the  first  group  in  marble  executed  by  an  American,  and  the 
poet  Dana  welcomed  this  first  trophy  of  his  young  friend’s  genius  with 
eloquent  verse.  The  scope  of  the  work  is  obviously  limited.  It  consists 
merely  of  two  nude  cherubs.  Yet  a careful  scrutiny  will  reveal  those 
niceties  of  execution  which  proclaim  the  true  artist.  One  of  the  figures 
is  planted  on  its  little  feet,  and  its  position  is  upright ; his  bosom  heaves 
with  a gentle  exultation  as  if  inspired  by  the  song  ; his  companion,  quite 
as  beautiful,  is  slightly  awed  ; one  has  ringlets  that  suggest  more  strength 
than  the  smooth  flowing  hair  of  his  brother,  whose  face  is  also  longer  and 
more  spiritual  and  subdued  ; he  is  more  up-looking,  less  self-sustained. 
A most  true  and  delicate  principle  of  contrast  is  thus  unfolded  in  the  two 
forms  and  faces.  The  celestial  and  the  child-like  are  blended  ; we  realize, 
as  we  gaze,  the  holiness  of  infant  beauty  ; a peaceful,  blessed  charm 
seems  wafted  from  the  infantile  forms,  whose  contour  and  expression  are 
alive  with  innocent,  sacred,  and,  as  it  were,  magnetic  joy.  Here  we  have 
the  poetry  of  Childhood,  as  in  the  Medora  the  poetry  of  Death. 

Greenough  was  naturally  disgusted  with  the  prudery  which  condemned 
his  first  nude  figures.  He  subsequently  wrote  : — 

“In  founding  a school  of  art,  we  have  an  obstacle  to  surmount,  viz.,  a 
puritanical  intolerance  thereof.  The  first  work  of  sculpture  by  an  Ameri- 
can hand  exhibited  in  this  country,  executed  for  the  illustrious  Cooper, 
was  a group  of  children.  The  artist  was  rebuked  and  mortified  by  loud 


257 


Grcenough. 

complaints  of  their  nudity.  Those  infantine  forms  roused  an  outcry  of 
censure,  which  seemed  to  have  exhausted  the  source  whence  it  sprang, 
since  all  the  harlot  dancers  who  have  found  an  El  Dorado  in  these  Atlan- 
tic cities,  have  failed  to  reawaken  it.  I say  seemed  to  have  exhausted  it — 
but  only  seemed — for  the  same  purblind  squeamishness  which  gazed  with- 
out alarm  at  the  lascivious  Fandango,  awoke  with  a roar  at  the  colossal 
nakedness  of  Washington’s  manly  breast.  This  fa6t  will  show  how  easy 
it  is  to  condemn  what  is  intrinsically  pure  and  innocent,  to  say  the  least ; 
how  difficult  to  repress  what  is  clearly  bad  and  vicious.  They  who  specu- 
late upon  the  corrupt  tastes  of  a public,  when  they  have  learned  that 
genteel  comedy  is  negleCted,  that  tragedy  is  unattractive,  that  galleries  of 
painting  and  statuary  are  unknown  in  a large  and  wealthy  community, 
such  speculators  take  their  Bayaderes  thither  as  to  a sure  market.  They 
know  that  a certain  duration  of  abstinence,  voluntary  or  forced,  makes 
garbage  tolerable,  and  ditch-water  a luxury.  I do  not  venture  to  hope 
that  even  high  art  will  abolish  ‘cakes  and  ale,’  but  I trust  before  manv 
years  are  elapsed,  no  usee  Terpsichore  of  Paris  or  Vienna  will  be  able  to 
show  half  a million  as  a measure  of  our  appetite  for  the  meretricious.”* 
The  grace,  truth  to  nature,  and  infantile  beauty  of  the  Cherubs  were 
at  once  and  warmly  recognized.  It  was  an  incidental  result  of  this  labor 
of  love  that  Greenough  obtained  the  government  order  to  execute  his 
statue  of  Washington.  The  pledge  he  had  thus  given  of  ability,  and  the 
earnest  representations  of  Allston,  Cooper,  and  Everett,  were  the  means 
of  this  important  enterprise.  To  the  sculptor’s  honor,  these  timely  ser- 
vices were  never  forgotten.  His  last  work  was  a bust  of  his  illustrious 
friend,  the  American  novelist,  which  he  proposed  to  cast  in  bronze,  at  his 
own  expense,  and  place  in  the  field  where  stands  the  Old  Mill  in  Newport 
— one  of  the  scenes  of  his  novel  of  the  “ Red  Rover.”  He  also  took 
frequent  counsel  with  the  friends  of  the  departed  author  in  regard  to 
erecting  a suitable  monument  to  his  name,  and  among  his  papers  is  an 
elaborate  design  for  the  work.  The  example  of  recognition  thus  com- 
menced was  soon  followed,  and  numerous  orders  reached  the  now  pros- 
perous exile.  Among  the  beautiful  ideal  works  he  executed,  within  the 
few  succeeding  years,  was  Medora — illustrative  of  Byron’s  memorable 
description  of  the  Corsair’s  bride  after  death ; of  which  the  greatest  praise 
is  to  say  that  the  marble  embodies  the  verse  : — 


In  life  itself  she  was  so  still  and  fair, 

That  death  with  gentler  aspedt  withered  there  ; 

And  the  cold  flowers  her  colder  hand  contained, 

In  that  last  grasp  as  tenderly  were  strained 
As  if  she  scarcely  felt  but  feigned  a sleep, 

And  made  it  almost  mockery  yet  to  weep  ; 

The  long  dark  lashes  fringed  her  lids  of  snow, 

And  veiled — thought  shrinks  from  all  that  lurked  below  ; 
Oh  ! on  the  eye  death  most  exerts  his  might, 

And  hurls  the  spirit  from  her  throne  of  light  ! 

* Memorial  of  Greenough, — p.  67. 

17 


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American  Artist  Life. 


Sinks  those  blue  orbs  in  that  long  lost  eclipse, 

But  spares,  as  yet,  the  charm  around  the  lips — 

Yet,  yet  they  seemed  as  they  forbore  to  smile, 

And  wished  repose — but  only  for  a while  ; 

But  the  white  shroud  and  each  extended  tress, 
Long,  fair — but  spread  in  utter  lifelessness, 

Which,  late  the  sport  of  every  summer  wind, 
Escaped  the  baffled  wreath  that  strove  to  bind  : 
These — and  the  pale  pure  cheek,  became  the  bier— 
But  she  is  nothing — wherefore  is  he  here  ? ” * 


There  is  a mingled  pathos  and  delicacy  in  the  shape  and  attitude  of  this 
figure  which  touches  the  heart  and  awes  the  imagination.  The  lines  of 
the  face  have  that  inflexible  repose  which  indicates  the  sleep  of  death  ; the 
neck  and  bosom  are  eloquent  of  feminine  grace  ; the  peculiar  grasp  of  the 
hand  which  still  retains  the  flowers,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  drapery 
folds  over  the  limbs,  are  in  exquisite  harmony  with  the  subject.  A chaste 
beauty,  entire  proportion,  and  affebting  interest  characterize  the  Medora. 
The  “Angel  and  Child”  is  another  favorite  work.  Its  conception  is  singu- 
larly beautiful,  and  it  is  realized  to  the  life.  The  artist’s  idea  was  to  repre- 
sent a child  received  and  guided  by  its  angel  companion  into  the  mysterious 
glories  of  heaven.  The  difference  between  the  human  and  the  spiritual  is 
exhibited  in  the  baby  outline  of  the  child,  rounded,  natural,  and  real — 
and  the  mature  celestial  grace  of  the  angel — his  look  of  holy  courage  and 
his  attitude  of  cheer,  while  the  reverence  and  timidity  of  his  newly -arrived 
brother  are  equally  obvious.  To  one  who  had  known  the  sculptor  in 
Italy  their  arrival  in  America  awakened  the  most  pleasing  associations  : 


My  little  ones,  welcome  ! in  memory’s  dream 
I’ve  fondly  beheld  you  full  long, 

Your  bright  snowy  forms  as  dear  messengers  seem, 
From  the  radiant  land  of  song. 

How  could  ye  depart  from  that  balmy  clime, 

Where  your  glorious  kindred  are  ? 

The  sculptured  children  of  olden  time, 

Your  elder  brothers  are  there  ! 

Sweet  Babe  ! wouldst  thou  speak  of  that  gem  of  earth, 
With  thy  gaze  of  wondering  fear  ? 

And  thou,  fair  cherub,  of  him  who  gave  birth 
To  thy  smile  of  holy  cheer? 

Oh  ! we  feel  how  eloquent  silence  may  be, 

When  before  us — all  breathing  of  love — 

Is  the  embodied  spirit  of  infancy, 

And  its  angel  guide  above  ! 


In  these  subjects  the  high  imagination  and  native  sentiment  of  the 
sculptor  are  evident.  His  taste  for  English  poetry  caused  him  to  selebt 
with  discrimination  and  indicate  with  facility  the  most  apt  illustrations 


* The  Corsair.  Canto  iii. 


Greenough.  259 

both  with  pen  and  chisel.  With  the  latter  he  imaged  the  most  vague  yet 
effective  of  Pope’s  female  portraits — Heloise  : 

“ Dear  fatal  name  ! rest  ever  unrevealed, 

Nor  pass  these  lips  in  holy  silence  sealed  ; 

. Hide  it,  my  heart,  within  that  close  disguise 

Where,  joined  with  God’s,  his  loved  idea  lies.” 

In  the  portraits  of  children,  whether  from  adtual  life  or  his  own  fancy, 
Greenough  excelled.  Two  boys  playing  with  a squirrel,  and  two  others 
engaged  in  a game  of  battle-dore,  we  recall  as  remarkable  specimens  both 
of  spirited  portraiture  and  felicitous  adtion.  His  earliest  ideal  work  was  a 
statue  of  Abel,  modelled  during  his  first  visit  to  Rome — and  his  last, 
“The  Rescue.”  It  was  executed  at  Florence  for  the  government,  de- 
signed in  1837,  and  completed  in  1851.  It  represents  the  conflict  between 
the  Anglo-Saxon  and  aboriginal  races.  The  chief  figure  is  an  American 
settler,  an  athletic  man,  in  a hunting-shirt  and  cap,  rescuing  a female  and 
her  infant  from  a savage  who  has  just  raised  his  tomahawk  to  murder 
them  ; the  effedt  is  wonderfully  fine  and  noble.  The  hunter  has  ap- 
proached his  enemy  unexpectedly  from  behind,  and  grasped  both  his  arms, 
holding  them  back,  and  in  such  a manner  that  he  has  no  command  of  his 
muscles,  even  for  the  purpose  of  freeing  himself.  It  is  several  years 
since  this  admirable  work  was  completed.  The  government  ordered  that 
one  of  the  vessels  of  our  squadron  in  the  Mediterranean,  when  on  its  re- 
turn to  the  United  States,  should  take  it  on  board.  Greenough  came  to 
this  country  with  the  view  of  superintending  its  eredtion.  After  long 
delay,  a vessel  was  sent  to  Leghorn,  but  on  account  of  the  hatchway 
being  too  small  to  admit  the  group,  it  was  left  behind  ; and  subsequently 
sent  on  its  way  in  a merchant  vessel. 

In  the  mean  time  his  statue  of  Washington  had  been  finished.  It  was 
undertaken  with  a painful  sense  of  responsibility,  designed  with  great  study, 
and  after  long  deliberation  ; it  occupied  the  best  part  of  eight  years,  and 
was  eredted  under  circumstances  unfavorable  to  its  immediate  appreciation. 
The  just  complaints  of  the  artist,  in  one  of  his  selected  papers,  as  to  its 
present  condition,  should  meet  with  respedtful  notice  from  those  in  author- 
ity. 

“ Among  the  most  charming  creations  of  Mr.  Greenough’s  chisel,”  says 
Edward  Everett,  in  a letter  from  Italy  in  1841,  “ is  the  statue  of  a child  of 
three  years  old,  the  daughter  of  Count  Revicksky,  the  Austrian  Minister  at 
Florence.  The  little  girl  is  represented  as  seated  on  a bank  of  flowers 
contemplating  a butterfly,  which  has  just  lighted  on  her  raised  forearm. 
The  intentness  with  which  she  regards  the  symbol  of  the  immortal  soul, 
happily  indicates  the  awakening  of  an  infant  understanding.  So  entirely 
absorbed  is  she  in  contemplation  of  the  objedt  which  has  attracted  her  at- 
tention, and  so  complete  is  her  repose,  that  a lizard  creeps  fearlessly  from 
his  hole  in  the  bank  of  flowers.  The  gfaze  of  the  child  is  full  of  that  mix- 
ture  of  simplicity  and  thought,  with  which  children  sometimes  give  us  such 


2 6o 


American  Artist  Life. 


startling  assurance  of  the  unfathomed  mystery  of  our  being.”  In  the  same 
letter  he  adds,  “ I regard  Mr.  Greenough’s  Washington  as  one  of  the 
greatest  works  of  sculpture  of  modern  times.  I do  not  know  the  work 
which  can  justly  be  preferred  to  it,  whether  we  consider  the  purity  of  the 
taste,  the  loftiness  of  the  conception,  the  truth  of  the  charades,  or,  what  we 
must  own  we  feel  less  able  to  judge  of,  accuracy  of  anatomical  study  and 
mechanical  skill.”  The  rationale  of  this  work  is  admirably  set  forth  in  the 
artist’s  letter  to  the  government  explaining  the  principles  of  the  design. 
Another  work  that  amply  fulfils  all  the  requirements  of  a severe  taste,  and 
is  yet  crowned  with  an  ideal  beauty,  is  the  head  of  Our  Saviour.  It  is  just 
enough  larger  than  life  to  derive  from  the  contour  and  features  a sublimity 
of  effect.  The  expression  is  profoundly  calm,  but  the  serenity  is  that  of 
conscious  power  tempered  with  a touching  benignity.  Its  characteristic 
point  is  an  infinitely  suggestive  charm,  at  once  holy,  pure,  and  majestic. 
The  bust  is  fixed  upon  a coiled  serpent,  whose  head  is  bowed  in  front ; and 
the  whole  conception  is  eloquent  with  the  highest  moral  significance.  It 
invites  contemplation,  and  is  instinct  with  devout  sentiment.  The  beauti- 
ful simplicity  of  the  idea  is  only  equalled  by  the  chaste  and  noble  execution. 
Greenough  entertained,  indeed,  the  highest  view  of  the  function  of  religious 
art,  but,  at  the  same  time,  recognized  its  true  use.  In  a letter  referring  to 
this  work,  he  says  : “ I am  not  aware  that  any  American  has,  until  now, 
risked  the  placing  before  his  countrymen  a representation  of  Our  Saviour. 
The  strong  prejudice,  or  rather  conviction,  of  the  Protestant  mind  has,  per- 
haps, deterred  many.  Not  behind  the  most  zealous  in  deprecating  the 
abuse  of  images  in  places  of  public  worship,  I think,  nevertheless,  that  the 
person  and  face  of  Our  Saviour  is  a legitimate  subjeCt  of  art,  because  al- 
though our  conception  must  fall  short  of  what  the  heart  of  the  Christian 
looks  for,  yet  all  will  allow  that  we  may  offer  to  many  an  imperfeCt,  in- 
stead of  a mean  or  grovelling  idea,  which  they  have  drawn  from  other 
sources.  The  prayers  and  hymns  of  the  most  pious  are  as  far  unworthy 
the  perfection  to  which  they  are  addressed,  as  the  lights  and  shadows  of  the 
artist  ; yet  both  may  be  accepted  as  fervent  aspirations  after  the  good  and 
beautiful.  It  is  a mistake  to  suppose  that  the  artist,  because  he  stops 
working,  thinks  his  task  perfeCt  ; he  says  only — behold  the  subjeCt  pro- 
posed to  me  as  the  art  which  is  in  me  can  give  it.” 

When  the  time  arrived  for  the  United  States  Government  to  commission 
a native  sculptor,  of  approved  genius,  to  execute  a statue  of  Washington 
for  the  Capitol,  the  merits  and  defeCts  of  Greenough’s  work  were  fully  dis- 
cussed by  tyros  and  critics,  by  backwoods  representatives  and  New  Eng- 
land scholars,  by  foreign  artists  and  domestic  journalists.  Eloquent  tributes 
from  writers  of  the  first  class  as  regards  experience  and  taste,  have  been 
spontaneously  offered  ; and  the  most  vulgar  diatribes  were  uttered  at  the 
seat  of  government,  where  it  was  first  exposed  to  view,  by  men  whose 
ignorance  of  art  was  only  equalled  by  their  brutal  want  of  respeCt  both  to 
the  subjeCt,  the  artist,  and  the  just  claims  of  criticism.  The  best  explanation 
of  the  design,  and  the  most  candid  appreciation  of  the  achievement  itself. 


26 1 


Greenough. 

is  the  paper  on  the  subjefit  by  the  late  A.  H.  Everett.  A description  of 
Greenough’s  statue  is  needless,  familiar  as  it  has  now  become  to  the  coun- 
try : but  those  who  remember  the  assurance  with  which  certain  members 
of  Congress,  wholly  unacquainted  with  what  Goethe  calls  “ the  law  of  a 
production,”  berated  this  work,  cannot  but  recognize  one  of  the  most 
prominent  traits  of  American  character— that  indomitable  self-confidence 
which  leads  each  citizen  of  “ the  greatest  country  on  earth,”  especially 
when  possessed  of  legislative  functions,  to  deem  himself  an  adequate  judge 
of  all  subjects  from  a system  of  medicine  to  a principle  in  mechanics,  and 
from  a dogma  in  theology  to  a work  of  art ; the  right  of  private  judgment 
is  thus  found  to  trench  materially  upon  the  authority  of  professional  knowl- 
edge in  all  departments  ; but  in  none  is  this  charlatanism  of  universal  self- 
esteem more  grotesque  in  its  display  than  when  the  higher  branches  of  art, 
letters,  and  philosophy,  are  thus  made  the  subjects  of  complacent  and 
superficial  comment.  In  the  case  of  Greenough’s  statue  of  Washington, 
without  deprecating  criticism,  to  the  need  of  which  none  was  more  sensible 
than  the  artist  himself,  now  that  death  has  silenced  his  eloquent  voice  and 
time  hushed  that  of  his  unauthorized  detraClors,  it  maybe  a lesson  to  those 
who  have  never  studied  the  limits  of  the  art,  and  the  inherent  obstacles  of 
the  task,  to  note  how  the  young  sculptor  thought  and  felt  about  his  arduous 
undertaking,  and  expressed  himself  on  the  subjeCt  in  the  confidence  of 
friendly  correspondence  : 

In  reference  to  the  proposed  transfer  of  the  statue  from  the  Rotunda  to 
the  eastern  front  of  the  Capitol,  he  writes  : 

“ Had  I been  ordered  to  make  a statue  for  any  square  or  similar  situa- 
tion at  the  metropolis,  I should  have  represented  Washington  on  horse- 
back, and  in  his  afitual  dress.  I would  have  made  my  work  purely  an  his- 
torical one.  I have  treated  the  subject  poetically,  and  confess  I should 
feel  pain  at  seeing  it  placed  in  di refit  and  flagrant  contrast  with  every-day 
life.  Moreover,  I modelled  the  figure  without  reference  to  an  exposure  to 
rain  and  frost,  so  that  there  are  many  parts  of  the  statue  where  the  water 
would  collect  and  soon  disintegrate  and  rot  the  stone,  if  it  did  not,  by  freez- 
ing, split  off  large  fragments  of  the  drapery.” 

And  in  another  letter  alluding  to  the  difficulties  of  the  work  : 

“A  colossal  statue  of  a man  whose  career  makes  an  epoch  in  the  world’s 
history,  is  an  immense  undertaking.  To  fail  in  it  is  only  to  prove  that  one 
is  not  as  great  in  art  as  the  hero  himself  was  in  life.  Had  my  work  shown 
a presumptuous  opinion  that  I had  an  easy  task  before  me,  had  it  betrayed 
a yearning  rather  after  the  wages  of  art  than  than  the  honest  fame  of  it,  I 
should  have  deserved  the  bitterest  things  that  have  been  said  of  it  and  of 
me.  Even  Canova  and  Chantrey  never  passed  the  line  of  mediocrity  in 
their  images  of  Washington.” 

And  again  in  reference  to  the  expense  : 

“ I beg  you  to  ascertain  the  amount  expended  by  the  government  in 
colonnades,  mere  displays  of  material  luxury,  without  one  objefit  to  justify 
the  outlay  beyond  the  pomp  of  straight  shafts  of  stone.  Compare  the 


262 


American  Artist  Life . 


sums  with  those  voted  for  the  monument  to  Washington,  and  you  will  see 
how  far  we  are  from  economy  on  one  side,  and  from  true  architectural 
beauty  on  the  other.”  * * * * 

Speaking  of  its  reception,  he  remarks  : 

“ Allow  me  to  exult  a little  that,  during  the  months  I spent  at  Washing- 
ton, while  my  statue  was  the  butt  of  wiseacres  and  witlings,  I never,  in 
word  or  thought,  swerved  from  my  principle — that  the  general  mind  is 
alone  a quorum  to  judge  a great  work.  When,  in  future  time,  the  true 
sculptors  of  America  have  filled  the  metropolis  with  beauty  and  grandeur, 
will  it  not  be  worth  $30,000  to  be  able  to  point  to  the  figure  and  say — 
‘ there  was  the  first  struggle  of  our  infant  art.’  ” * 

In  a letter  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  written  when  his  statue  was  em- 
barked, and  published  among  the  Congressional  documents  relating  to  the 
work,  Greenough  apologizes  thus  eloquently  for  not  having  shipped  it  on 
board  the  frigate  Constitution,  as  directed  by  the  government,  where  it 
would  have  been  exposed  on  deck  : 

“ I may  be  found  to  have  acted  without  due  consideration  for  the  opinion 
of  Commodore  Hull,  but  I beg  leave  to  represent  that,  although  I have 
been  paid  for  this  statue,  I have  still  an  interest  in  it — the  interest  of  a 
father  in  his  child.  It  is  the  birth  of  my  thought.  I have  sacrificed  to  it 
the  flower  of  my  days  and  the  freshness  of  my  strength  ; its  every  linea- 
ment has  been  moistened  by  the  sweat  of  my  toil,  and  the  tears  of  my  exile. 
I would  not  barter  awTay  its  association  with  my  name  for  the  proudest 
fortune  that  avarice  ever  dreamed.  In  giving  it  up  to  the  nation  that  has 
done  me  the  honor  to  order  it  at  my  hand,  I respectfully  claim  for  it  that 
protection  which  is  the  boast  of  civilization  to  afford  to  Art,  and  which  a 
generous  enemy  has  more  than  once  been  seen  to  extend  even  to  the  monu- 
ments of  its  own  defeat.” 

“ Greenough’s  great  work,”  writes  the  late  Hon.  Alexander  H.  Everett, 
“ has  surpassed  my  expectations,  high  as  they  were.  It  is  truly  sublime. 
The  statue  is  of  colossal  grandeur,  about  twice  the  size  of  life.  The  hero 
is  represented  in  a sitting  posture.  A loose  drapery  covers  the  lower  part 
of  the  figure,  and  is  carried  up  over  the  right  arm,  which  is  extended,  with 
the  elbow  bent,  and  the  forefinger  of  the  hand  pointed  upwards.  The  left 
arm  is  stretched  out  a little  above  the  thigh  ; and  the  hand  holds  a Roman 
sword  reversed.  The  design  of  the  artist  was,  of  course,  to  indicate  the 
ascendency  of  the  civic  and  humane  over  the  military  virtues,  which  dis- 
tinguished the  whole  career  of  Washington,  and  which  form  the  great  glory 
of  his  character.  It  was  not  intended  to  bring  before  the  eye  the  precise 
circumstance  under  which  he  resigned  his  commission  as  commander-in- 
chief. This  would  have  required  a standing  posture  and  a modern  military 
costume  ; and,  without  an  accompanying  group  of  members  of  Congress, 
would  have  been  an  incomplete  work.  The  sword  reversed,  and  the  finger 
pointed  upwards,  indicate  the  moral  sentiment,  of  which  the  resignation 
of  his  commission  as  commander-in-chief  was  the  strongest  evidence, 

* Letter  to  Hon.  R.  C.  Winthrop. 


263 


Greenough. 

without  the  details,  which  were  inconsistent  with  the  general  plan.  The 
face  is  that  of  Stuart’s  portraits  modified  so  as  to  exhibit  the  highest  point 
of  manly  vigor  and  maturity.  Though  not  corresponding  exaCtly  with  any 
of  the  existing  portraits,  it  is  one  of  the  aspeCts  which  the  countenance  of 
Washington  must  necessarily  have  worn  in  the  course  of  his  progress 
through  life,  and  is  obviously  the  proper  one  for  the  purpose.  In  expres- 
sion, the  countenance  is  admirably  adjusted  to  the  character  of  the  subject 
and  the  intention  of  the  work.  It  is  stamped  with  dignity,  and  radiant 
with  benevolence  and  moral  beauty.  The  execution  is  finished  to  the 
extreme  point  of  perfection,  as  well  in  the  accessories  as  in  the  statue 
itself.  The  seat  is  a massy  arm-chair,  of  antique  form  and  large  dimen-  . 
sions,  the  sides  of  which  are  covered  with  exquisitely  wrought  bas-reliefs. 
The  subjebt  of  one  is  the  infant  Hercules  strangling  the  serpent  in  his 
cradle  ; that  of  the  other,  Apollo  guiding  the  four  steeds  that  draw  the 
chariot  of  the  sun.  The  back  of  the  chair  is  of  open  work.  At  the  left 
corner  is  placed  a small  statue  of  Columbus,  holding  in  his  hand  a sphere, 
which  he  is  examining  with  fixed  attention  : at  the  right  corner  is  a similar 
small  statue  of  an  Indian  chief.  The  effeCt  of  these  comparatively  diminu- 
tive images  is  to  heighten  by  contrast  the  impression  of  grandeur  which  is 
made  by  the  principal  figure.  The  work  stands  upon  a square  block  of 
granite,  which  bears  upon  its  front  and  two  sides,  as  an  inscription,  the 
well-known  language  of  the  resolution  adopted  in  Congress  upon  the 
receipt  of  the  intelligence  of  Washington’s  death:  ‘First  in  war:  first  in 
peace  : first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen.’  On  the  back  of  the  statue, 
just  above  the  top  of  the  chair,  is  placed  another  inscription  in  Latin,  which 
is  as  follows  : — ■ 


Simulacrum  istud 
Ad  magnum  Libertatis  exemplum 
Nec  sine  ipsa  duraturum 
Horatius  Greenough 
Faciebat.” 

My  first  view  of  the  unfinished  statue  at  Carrara,  suggested  the  follow- 
ing lines  : — 


WASHINGTON’S  STATUE. 

The  quarry  whence  thy  form  majestic  sprung 
Has  peopled  earth  with  grace, 

Heroes  and  gods  that  elder  bards  have  sung, 

A bright  and  peerless  race  ; 

But  from  its  sleeping  veins  ne’er  rose  before 
A shape  of  loftier  name 

Than  his,  who  Glory’s  wreath  with  meekness  wore, 
The  noblest  son  of  Fame. 

Sheathed  is  the  sword  that  Passion  never  stained  ; 

His  gaze  around  is  cast, 

As  if  the  joys  of  Freedom,  newly  gained, 

Before  his  vision  passed  ; 


264 


American  Artist  Life. 


As  if  a nation’s  shout  of  love  and  pride 
With  music  filled  the  air, 

And  his  calm  soul  was  lifted  on  the  tide 
Of  deep  and  grateful  prayer  ; 

As  if  the  crystal  mirror  of  his  life 
To  fancy  sweetly  came, 

With  scenes  of  patient  toil  and  noble  strife, 

Undimmed  by  doubt  or  shame  ; 

As  if  the  lofty  purpose  of  his  soul 
Expression  would  betray — 

The  high  resolve  Ambition  to  control, 

And  thrust  her  crown  away  ! 

Oh  ! it  is  well  in  marble  firm  and  white 
To  carve  our  Hero’s  form, 

Whose  angel  guidance  was  our  strength  in  fight, 

Our  star  amid  the  storm  ! 

Whose  matchless  truth  has  made  his  name  divine. 

And  Human  Freedom  sure, 

His  country  great,  his  tomb  earth’s  dearest  shrine, 

While  man  and  time  endure  ! 

And  it  is  well  to  place  his  image  there, 

Upon  the  soil  he  blest ; 

Let  meaner  spirits,  who  its  councils  share, 

Revere  that  silent  guest  ! 

Let  us  go  up  with  high  and  sacred  love 
To  look  on  his  pure  brow, 

And  as,  with  solemn  grace,  he  points  above, 

Renew  the  patriot’s  vow  ! 

My  next  meeting  with  Greenough  was  in  the  autumn  of  1837.  On  a 
bright  cool  day  in  October,  the  Cascine  of  Florence  was  thronged.  Lines 
of  open  carriages  extended  along  the  park ; under  the  chestnuts  groups  of 
pedestrians  sauntered;  the  dead  leaves  flew  along  the  turf;  the  Arno 
gleamed  in  the  sun.  The  scene  was  at  once  rural  and  festive.  In  every 
barouche  were  gaily-dressed  ladies,  and  the  cheerful  hum  of  conversation 
was  suddenly  quieted  as  all  hastened  to  the  inclosed  open  space  between 
the  trees,  to  witness  a race.  This  was  a rare  entertainment,  originated  by 
the  English  residents  of  Florence.  The  bright  tints  of  the  jockeys’  cos- 
tumes, the  sleek,  elegant,  and  spirited  horses,  and  the  hilarity  of  the  com- 
pany, accorded  with  the  bracing  air  and  cheerful  sunshine.  In  the  midst 
of  the  crowd  I met  Greenough.  It  was  a few  days  after  his  marriage  with 
Miss  Louisa  Gore  of  Boston.  In  a subsequent  conversation  we  referred 
to  the  prosperous  termination  of  those  days  of  suspense  and  anxiety  which, 
on  my  first  visit,  had  shadowed  his  career.  In  the  brief  interval  he  had 
received  many  commissions,  achieved  a reputation,  and  was  now  settled 
happily  in  a congenial  home.  The  auspicious  change  in  my  friend’s  pros- 
pects identified  itself  with  the  gay  scene  in  which  our  intercourse  was 
resumed  ; and  it  struck  my  fancy  as  symbolic  of  the  happiness  that  crowned 
his  life. 

Florence  continued  to  be  his  residence  until  his  final  return  to  this 
country.  In  the  mean  time  he  frequently  visited  Germany,  Paris,  and 
other  places  in  Europe,  and  came  home  to  superintend  the  eredtion  of  his 
statue  of  Washington.  His  house  at  Florence  soon  became  the  favorite 


265 


Greenough. 

resort  of  Americans  ; and  all  who  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  the  Palazzo 
Baciocchi , now  recall  the  delightful  hours  spent  there  with  grateful  yet 
melancholy  interest.  The  habitues , indeed,  must  feel  with  one  of  his 
neighbors  who,  in  a recent  letter,  alluding  to  Greenough’s  death,  says,  “He 
was  a true,  high-spirited,  and  independent  man,  and  I feel,  in  losing  him, 
that  something  is  permanently  deducted  from  my  life.” 

Here  were  passed  the  happiest  years  of  his  life  ; and  any  one  who 
shared,  even  for  a time,  his  existence  in  the  Tuscan  capital,  soon  realized 
how  just  was  his  partiality  for  that  adopted  home.  If  less  rich  in  the 
trophies  of  art  than  Rome,  there  is  more  unity  of  effebt  in  the  archi- 
tecture, galleries,  and  scenery.  In  his  daily  walks  for  many  years,  Green- 
ough here  became  familiar  with  the  noble  relics  of  the  middle  ages, 
sombre  but  massive  ; the  grand  simplicity  of  the  Strozzi  and  Pitti  palaces, 
the  beautiful  cornice  of  the  Ricardi,  Bruneleschi’s  gigantic  dome  and  airy 
tower,  the  graceful  bridges  that  span  the  Arno,  and  the  lovely  gates  ot 
San  Lorenzo  ; objebts  ever  fresh  and  charming  to  an  artist’s  eye.  The 
memorials  of  individual  genius,  too,  always  suggestive  to  his  cultivated 
mind,  of  epochs  in  the  history  of  art,  of  long  and  patient  study,  and  of 
the  loftiest  aspirations,  were  constant  themes  to  him  of  encouraging  medi- 
tation and  eloquent  discourse.  In  Florence  are  gathered  the  most  char- 
acteristic legacies  of  Angelo  and  Cellini,  and  the  city  and  its  environs 
are  intimately  associated  with  Dante,  Galileo,  Boccacio,  Vespucci,  Mac- 
chiavelli,  and  Milton.  A promenade  along  the  river,  in  view  of  the  un- 
rivalled sunsets  that  bathe  the  distant  Apennine  range  with  gold  and 
purple,  an  hour’s  gossip  at  the  cafe,  visits  to  the  galleries  and  studios, 
and  an  occasional  evening  at  the  opera,  are  constant  and  available  re- 
creations. 

A few  years  since  a new  square  was  laid  out  in  Florence,  on  the  Fiesole 
side  of  the  Arno,  between  the  Porta  San  Gallo  and  the  Porta  al  Prato. 
It  was  called  the  Piazza  Maria  Antonia,  in  honor  of  the  late  Grand 
Duchess.  The  corner  lot  was  purchased  by  Greenough,  and  upon  it  he 
erebted  a studio  which  was  a model  of  its  kind,  and  unsurpassed  in  Europe. 
All  the  rooms  were  on  one  floor,  built  with  great  strength  and  a fine  orna- 
mental stone  work  on  the  exterior,  having  in  the  centre  the  cypher  G. 
Attached  to  the  structure  was  a beautiful  garden  : within  was  a spacious  and 
admirably  lighted  exhibition-room — near  by  the  sculptor’s  private  studio, 
a large  apartment  for  the  workmen,  a gallery  of  plaster  casts,  a vestibule 
hung  with  pictures,  a noble  rotunda,  leading  by  a short  flight  of  steps  to 
the  garden,  and  a charming  library.  This  studio  was  a monument  of 
Greenough’s  intelligent  taste  and  aesthetic  culture  ; and  it  is  deeply  to  be 
regretted  that  it  could  not  be  preserved  as  an  artistic  temple  to  his  memory. 

In  the  autumn  of  1851  Greenough  returned  to  the  United  States  with 
his  family.  Fie  came  ostensibly  to  erebt  his  group  of  “ The  Rescue  but  his 

departure  from  Florence  was  hastened  by  the  political  state  of  Europe  ; the 
myrmidons  of  Austria  thronged  the  streets  of  that  beautiful  capital ; the 
press  was  under  stribt  censorship  ; and  a system  of  espioiiage  interfered 


266 


American  Artist  Life. 


with  all  freedom  of  speech, domestic  privacy,  and  social  activity — a contrast 
at  once  sad  and  humiliating  to  the  hopeful  era  which  had  so  recently  closed. 
Upon  returning  to  his  residence  one  day,  Greenough  found  several  cavalry 
soldiers  quartered  on  his  premises.  He  instantly  wrote  to  the  American 
Consul  at  Leghorn,  and  obtained  a diplomatic  office  of  sufficient  consid- 
eration to  relieve  him  of  this  annoyance  ; but  so  many  instances  of 
despotic  injustice  daily  came  under  his  notice,  that  they,  in  a measure, 
destroyed  the  charms  of  a hitherto  genial  home,  and  he  longed  once  more 
to  breathe  the  free  air,  and  hold  communion  with  the  free  minds  of  his 
native  country.  He  believed,  also,  that  he  could  now  be  more  useful  at 
home,  and  that  circumstances  there  were  more  favorable  to  the  artist. 

There  are  certain  peculiarities  noticeable  on  returning  to  this  country 
after  a long  absence,  by  all  observant  minds,  which  Greenough  not  only 
opposed  in  conversation  but  praCtically  repudiated.  He  wondered  at  the 
extreme  deference  to  public  opinion,  at  the  absurd  extravagance  in  living, 
and  the  prevalent  want  of  moral  courage.  The  true  artist’s  simplicity  in 
the  externals  of  life  was  visible  in  him  always  ; his  individuality  was  not 
set  aside  in  conformity  to  fashion  ; he  manifested  reverence  for  age  ; he 
was  impatient  of  the  substitutes  for  comfort,  fellowship,  and  truth  invented 
by  what  is  called  society  ; he  contemned  that  habitual  view  of  general 
questions  and  human  welfare  through  the  contracting  lens  of  self-interest 
which  pervades  a mercantile  community  ; and  it  was  the  essential  in 
character,  experience,  and  social  economy,  and  not  the  temporary  and  arti- 
ficial, which  he  recognized. 

I was  agreeably  surprised  to  perceive  the  confidence  with . which  he 
unfolded  his  plans,  and  the  generous  zeal  that  led  him,  at  once  and 
earnestly,  to  advocate  so  many  projects  of  taste  and  utility.  It  was  re- 
markable to  what  an  extent  his  personal  influence  aCted  even  upon  our 
most  utilitarian  and  busy  citizens.  He  took  me  aside  one  morning  in 
Broadway,  and  whispered  the  result  of  his  visit  among  the  leading  com- 
mercial men  of  New  York,  in  behalf  of  a statue  of  Washington  designed 
to  ornament  Union  Square.  The  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars 
was  subscribed  in  sums  of  five  hundred.  It  may  be  safely  asserted  that 
no  other  man  but  Greenough  could,  in  so  brief  a space,  have  won  the 
sympathy  and  “ material  aid  ” of  so  many  stern  votaries  of  commerce. 

I was  interested  also  in  the  change  produced  in  him  by  domestic  ties. 
As  he  had  once  talked  of  art  he  now  talked  of  life.  His  affeCtions  had  led 
him  to  reflecl  upon  human  destiny  ; and  I found  him  as  eloquent  and  as 
ingenious  in  the  discussion  of  the  religious  sentiment  and  educational 
theories  as  he  was  wont  to  be  when  intent  upon  the  vocation  of  the  artist. 
However  imaginative  in  some  of  these  speculations,  he  was  remarkably  in 
earnest,  and  reverent  of  Nature  as  the  true  mother,  whose  laws  were  to  be 
devoutly  studied  and  implicitly  obeyed  ; in  her  statutes  as  well  as  handi- 
work he  beheld  the  finger  of  God  ; and  justly  ascribed  no  small  degree  of 
existent  evil  to  the  system  of  intervention  by  which  this  divine  light  is 
obscured  or  perverted. 


Greenough. 


267 


His  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  state  of  parties,  and  the  course  of 
governments  abroad,  as  well  as  his  decided  liberal  sentiments,  constantly 
impelled  him,  at  this  time,  to  political  discussion  ; and  whoever  engaged 
with  him  in  these  colloquies,  whether  convinced  by  his  arguments  or  not, 
was  informed  by  the  array  of  faCts  he  cited,  and  charmed  by  his  graphic 
powers  of  description  and  brilliant  analysis.  He  was  inspired  also  by 
that  spirit  of  enterprise  which  marks  even  the  speculative  opinions  and 
social  life  of  our  country.  Looking  around  him  with  the  eye  of  an  artist 
and  the  heart  of  a patriot,  he  was  conscious  of  a new  scope  and  motive, 
both  for  his  genius  and  sympathies.  He  had  matured  a system  of  archi- 
tecture founded  on  the  idea  of  the  appropriate,  and  adapted  to  the  climate 
and  exigencies  of  the  country.  He  was  prepared  to  suggest  and  illustrate 
the  adornment  of  our  cities  with  national  statuary.  In  many  of  the  details 
of  social  economy  he  was  the  advocate  of  wise  and  practical  reforms  ; and 
had  much  to  say  that  was  fresh  and  noble,  if  not  available,  upon  education, 
hygiene,  society,  art,  literature,  and  manners.  There  was  a remarkable 
communicative  instinCl  in  Greenough  ; and  the  results  of  his  studies  and 
experience  were  the  property  of  his  friends.  A disinterested  mental 
activity  was  the  distinctive  and  invaluable  trait  of  his  character.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  if  his  life  had  been  preserved,  he  would  have  proved  a 
most  attractive  and  useful  teacher  through  the  rostrum  and  the  press,  in 
departments  of  thought  and  aCtion  comparatively  negleCted  among  us. 
The  principles  of  art  he  could  unfold  with  the  highest  intelligence  ; and, 
without  an  harmonious  and  complete  system,  he  had  attained  to  many  just 
conceptions  of  the  philosophy  of  life. 

Greenough’s  temperament  was  both  sanguine  and  nervous — a combina- 
tion more  favorable  to  a receptive  and  sympathetic,  than  a self-possessed 
and  tranquil  character.  Accordingly  he  was  of  an  excitable  nature,  and 
required  for  the  healthful  exercise  of  his  mind  and  wise  enjoyment  of  life, 
at  once  a genial,  free,  and  harmonious  sphere.  Artist-life  in  Italy,  so  calm, 
absorbing,  and  undisturbed,  was  fitted  to  his  nature.  The  amenities  of  a 
domestic  circle,  the  pleasant  stimulus  of  intellectual  companionship,  the 
wholesome  occupation  of  body  and  mind,  were  to  him  a peculiar  necessity. 
The  restless,  bustling,  ever-changeful  existence  that  invests  the  very  atmos- 
phere of  this  country  were  sometimes  oppressive  and  irritating.  He  felt 
the  absence  of  that  equability  and  routine,  that  keeps  brain  and  heart  so 
well  balanced  in  the  old  cities  of  Europe.  He  missed  the  gradations  by 
which  the  temperature  seems  to  adapt  itself  to  the  sensitive  frame.  In  the 
climate,  the  society,  the  mode  of  life,  he  found  it  almost  impossible  to 
escape  the  hurried,  alternating,  fitful  spirit  of  the  land.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
genius  of  enterprise  around  had  infeCted  his  mind  with  a tendency  to  aCtion 
at  once  impulsive  and  uncertain.  He  constantly  broached  new  plans  ; and 
sought  to  attach  others  to  his  own  aims.  The  transition  from  a serene  to 
an  excitable  social  atmosphere,  from  a conservative  to  a progressive  coun- 
try, was  too  abrupt  for  a nature  both  sensitive  and  aspiring.  He  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  times,  and  was  eager  to  throw  his  energies  into  the  stream 


268 


American  Artist  Life. 

of  popular  activity.  There  was  soon  obvious  not  so  much  an  inconsistency 
of  thought  as  a want  of  correspondence  between  his  avowed  sentiment! 
and  purposes,  and  his  actions.  It  was  evident  that  his  mind  had  become 
unduly  excited,  as  is  so  often  the  case  with  the  novice  in  American  life 
But  in  this  instance  the  physical  result  was  unusual  and  inexpressibly  sad 
A brain  fever  terminated,  after  a few  days’  illness,  the  life  of  Greenough 
It  may  be  regarded  as  a fortunate  circumstance,  that  the  attack  occurred 
at  his  house  in  Newport,  and  while  he  was  surrounded  by  those  most  near 
and  dear  to  him.  He  was  subsequently  removed  to  the  vicinity  of  Boston 
for  the  benefit  of  medical  treatment.  While  the  life-struggle  was  going  on 
we  can  imagine  the  agony  of  suspense  that  brooded  over  his  household  at 
Newport,  where  severe  illness  kept  his  dearest  companion.  The  fatal  issue 
was  anticipated  by  the  Italian  servants — two  Tuscan  women  who  had 
accompanied  the  family  on  their  return.  With  that  passionate  grief  char- 
acteristic of  the  race,  they  burst  forth  one  wintry  afternoon  with  the  decla- 
ration, that  the  Padrone  would  surely  die,  because  a large  owl  had  de- 
scended the  chimney  and  was  found  in  the  parlor  ; the  incident  awakened 
their  latent  superstition,  and  the  bird  of  ill-omen  was  deemed  the  certain 
precursor  of  death.  A few  hours  afterwards  came  the  sad  tidings,  but  they 
were  mitigated,  as  far  as  such  desolation  can  be,  by  the  faCt  that  his  suffer- 
ings were  inconsiderable,  and  the  delusions  incident  to  his  malady  of  a 
gay  rather  than  a despairing  nature.  His  strength  gradually  yielded  to  the 
cerebral  excitement,  and  he  expired  on  Saturday  morning,  the  18th  of  De- 
cember, 1852. 

He  had  been  naturally  impatient,  on  his  return  to  America,  to  settle 
himself  in  an  agreeable  locality  with  his  studio  arranged  to  his  taste,  a fine 
subject  in  the  process  of  execution,  and  his  family  and  household  gods 
around  him.  But  owing  to  the  unjustifiable  delay  of  the  government  in 
sending  for  his  group  at  Leghorn,  to  the  uncertainty  which  obtained  in 
regard  to  the  two  or  three  important  works  he  proposed  to  execute,  and  his 
unavoidable  indecision  as  to  a permanent  residence — the  year  which  inter- 
vened between  his  arrival  in  the  United  States  and  his  death,  was  passed 
in  various  places  and  occupations,  and  attended  with  much  care  and  dis- 
comfort. He  enjoyed,  however,  by  this  state  of  things,  many  opportuni- 
ties of  social  intercourse  ; and  the  intervals  spent  with  his  family  at  New- 
port, during  the  last  summer,  were  periods  of  unalloyed  enjoyment. 

It  was  at  this  time  and,  as  it  were,  with  a prophetic  sentiment,  that  he 
he  wrote  : — “ I am  arrived  at  that £ mezzo  del  camming  that  half-way  house, 
where  a man  sees,  or  thinks  he  sees,  both  ways.  If  my  head  is  not  white, 
it  is  whitening — I begin  to  love  to  sit  alone — to  look  upon  the  skies,  the 
water,  and  the  soft  green — the  face  of  the  mighty  mother  ! I feel  that  she 
thus  sweetly  smiles  on  me,  more  sweetly  than  formerly,  because  she  means 
to  call  me  home  to  her  own  bosom.  I would  not  pass  away  and  not  leave 
a sign  that  I,  for  one,  born  by  the  grace  of  God  in  this  land,  found  life  a 
cheerful  thing,  and  not  that  sad  and  dreadful  task  with  whose  prospect  they 
scared  my  youth.” 


269 


Greenough. 

It  was  here,  on  the  beautiful  sea-shore,  that  I once  more  renewed  an  as- 
sociation commenced  so  many  years  ago  in  Italy  ; and  never,  since  the 
hour  of  our  first  acquaintance,  did  Greenough  appear  more  full  of  noble 
aims,  more  kindled  by  the  inspiration  of  nature  and  society,  and  more 
abounding  in  intellectual  sympathy.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  that  the  agile 
and  well-developed  form  that  sported  with  such  grace  amid  the  billows,  is 
now  lifeless  ; that  the  nervous  frame  so  delicately  strung  no  more  responds 
to  vital  influences  ; and  that  the  voice  attuned  to  a key  so  sympathetic,  and 
freighted  with  such  wealth  of  mind,  is  hushed  for  ever  ! By  a singular 
coincidence  the  last  time  I saw  Greenough,  he  took  me  home  to  pass  a 
rainy  evening,  and  as  he  sat  at  work  upon  a crayon  head,  while  smoking  a 
cigar,*  we  revived  together  the  memories  of  those  happy  days  in  Italy. 
It  was  early  in  autumn.  The  gay  visitors  at  Newport  had  nearly  all  re- 
turned to  the  cities,  and  the  ties  of  friendship  were  drawn  closer  from  the 
more  frequent  and  uninterrupted  opportunities  of  association.  Impercep- 
tibly the  hours  flitted  away  ; and  I was  surprised  to  find  it  near  midnight 
when  I rose  to  depart.  I remember,  during  my  homeward  walk,  to  have 
mused  of  Greenough’s  versatility  and  prolific  ideas  during  that  interview — 
which  I so  little  imagined  would  be  the  last.  He  had,  in  those  few  hours, 
run  through  every  phase  of  conversation.  With  the  skill  of  a consummate 
imftrovisatore  he  had  told  a story  in  the  dramatic  and  artistic  way  pecu- 
liar to  him,  painting  the  scene  to  the  eye,  giving  the  very  sensation  of  the 
experience  ; he  had  analyzed,  with  ta<5l  and  discrimination,  several  charac- 
ters of  our  mutual  acquaintance  ; he  had  ably  discussed  a question  of  public 
concern,  and  he  had  evolved  several  bon-mots.  One  of  his  jeux  cP  esprit 
was  an  impromptu  translation  of  a Cardinal’s  epitaph,  while  walking  with 
R.  H.  Wilde  one  evening  at  Florence  : 

Qui  giace  un  Cardinale, 

Che  fece  il  bene  e’l  male  ; 

11  mal  lo  fece  bene, 

Ma  il  ben  lo  fece  male. 

TRANSLATION  BY  RICHARD  H.  WILDE. 

Here  lies  a cardinal  far  famed 
F or  doing  works  of  good  and  evil ; 

He  did  his  bad  work  very  well, 

But  spoiled  his  good  work  like  the  devil. 

ANOTHER  BY  HORATIO  GREENOUGH. 

Here  lies  a cardinal  who  wrought 
Both  good  and  evil  in  his  time  ; 

The  good  he  did  was  good  for  nought, 

Not  so  the  evil ; that  was  prime. 


* “ He  was  a great  smoker,”  writes  a friend.  “ He  told  me  that  he  never  worked  without  a cigar 
in  his  mouth.  Having  observed  him  once  or  twice  twist  his  cigars  into  about  two  equal  parts,  and 
then  smoke  each  in  succession,  I asked  him  his  reason.  ‘ Why,’  said  he,  smiling,  ‘ I got  into  the 
habit  when  I felt  I could  not  afford  to  smoke  whole  cigars,  and  now  I break  them  without  thinking.  ’ 
He  explained  further,  that  to  half  smoke  a whole  cigar  spoils  the  other  half  for  smoking,  at  any  future 
time — whereas,  if  broken  in  two,  both  halves  are  equally  available.” 


270 


American  Artist  Life. 


In  a word,  his  talk  was  argumentative,  picturesque,  anecdotical,  earnest, 
philosophic,  and  humorous  ; and  this  without  the  least  effort  or  formality, 
but  through  the  natural  suggestions  of  the  moment.  He  made  me  realize 
anew  his  varied  knowledge  and  his  independent  mind.  I felt  that  he  was 
capable  of  the  greatest  social  and  artistic  usefulness.  I recalled  the  con- 
sistency of  his  friendship,  his  kind  leave-taking,  and  cheerful  anticipation  of 
“ another  such  evening  soon  ; ” and  these  vivid  recollections  deepened  the 
sorrow  with  which,  a few  weeks  later  and  in  a foreign  land,  I was  startled 
with  the  news  of  his  death. 

The  outline  I have  given  of  Greenough’s  career  as  an  artist,  affords  but 
an  inadequate  idea  of  his  genius  and  character.  It  is  the  distinction  of 
the  latter,  where  they  possess  origionality  and  power,  always  to  suggest 
more  than  they  actualize.  Asa  sculptor,  his  executive  ability  fell  short  of 
his  conceptions  ; and  as  a man,  his  influence  was  quite  as  individual  and 
extensive  as  his  artistic  fame.  Indeed  he  was  endeared  to  his  friends  and 
useful  to  the  world  by  virtue  of  larger  gifts  than  belong  exclusively  to  the 
practical  artist.  In  respeCt  to  personal  efficiency — that  charm  and  gift  that 
diffuses  itself  by  the  magnetism  of  association  and  the  attrition  of  mind — 
Greenough  held  a memorable  place  in  the  estimation  not  only  of  a vast 
number,  but  of  widely  different  minds.  He  combined  public  spirit  with  the 
qualities  that  insure  good  fellowship,  and  the  facility  of  the  man  of  the  world 
with  the  attainments  of  a liberal  scholar,  to  a degree  and  in  a manner  alto- 
gether rare,  even  in  this  age  of  generalization.  His  original  endowments 
and  his  wide  experience  equally  contributed  to  this  result.  He  went  forth 
in  early  manhood  from  a cultivated  but  formal  society,  where  he  had  re- 
ceived an  excellent  domestic  and  intellectual  training,  urged  by  a natural 
love  of  art  in  a special  form  ; but,  by  virtue  of  his  broad  intelligence  and 
generous  sympathies,  while  mainly  devoted  to  his  profession,  he  became  an 
intellectual  cosmopolite. 

The  classical  education  he  had  received,  and  his  early  advantages,  made 
him  familiar  with  the  historical  relations  of  his  art.  He  could  fully  realize 
its  indirect  value  and  its  characteristic  development.  As  a national  language 
he  understood  its  significance — grand  and  inscrutable  in  Egypt,  unrivalled 
in  Grecian  beauty,  primitive  in  Central  America.  The  fables  of  mythology, 
the  monumental  glory,  the  poetry  and  the  truth  which  sculpture  embodied 
in  different  eras  and  countries,  he  knew  as  a scholar  and  appreciated  as  an 
artist.  Contrary  to  the  usual  effeCt  of  extensive  knowledge,  this  acquaint- 
ance with  the  faCts  and  meaning  of  sculpture  did  not  make  him  a devotee 
of  any  school ; he  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  masterpieces  of  the  chisel,  and 
expatiated,  with  earnest  intelligence,  upon  each  separate  trophy  of  the 
sculptor,  however  different  in  kind.  I have  heard  him  alike  eloquent  over 
the  radiant  Apollo  of  the  Vatican  and  the  brooding  Lorenzo  of  the  Medici 
chapel,  the  Lions  of  Canova  and  the  Perseus  of  Cellini,  a Bacchante  by 
Bartolini,  a group  of  Gibson’s,  one  ofFlaxman’s  linear  wonders,  an  apostle 
of  Thorwaldsen,  and  a bust  of  Powers.  It  was  in  the  variety  of  his  com- 
parisons and  the  richness  of  his  illustrations  that  he  evinced  the  extent  of 


271 


Greenough. 

his  culture.  The  majority  of  our  artists  have  been  self-taught  men,  chiefly 
dependent  upon  a special  talent.  Greenough’s  general  knowledge  proved 
a valuable  and  attractive  facility  in  his  expositions  of  art.  The  remarkable 
absence  of  extravagence  in  all  his  artistic  productions  was  another  result 
of  his  disciplined  taste.  The  simplicity  that  belongs  to  true  superiority 
had  become  with  him  a principle  both  of  judgment  and  aCtion.  During 
his  early  studies  in  Italy,  Homer  was  frequently  in  his  hands.  In  litera- 
ture, art,  and  life,  his  taste  was  singularly  just ; not  a trace  of  affeCtation 
or  fantasy  is  visible  in  any  of  his  designs  or  statues.  The  classical  standard 
he  thoroughly  appreciated,  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  details  of  expres- 
sion in  nature  were  his  constant  study. 

He  was  also  a student  of  art  in  general,  as  well  as  a proficient  in  sculp- 
ture. He  had  enjoyed  a very  wide  range  of  observation,  and  a large  ac- 
quaintance with  artists.  There  was  no  subjeCl  upon  which  he  had  thought 
more  earnestly,  or  could  discourse  with  more  zest  and  eloquence,  than  the 
philosophy  of  art.  The  principles  of  architecture,  modes  of  living,  ar- 
rangements of  society — in  a word,  the  wise  organization  of  the  means 
provided  by  nature  for  the  ends  desirable  for  man,  was  to  him  a theme  of 
the  deepest  significance.  With  a truly  fraternal  sympathy  for  his  race,  in- 
stead of  regarding  his  pursuit  as  exclusive  aud  chiefly  intended  to  gratify 
individual  taste,  he  advocated  art  as  an  element  of  humanity,  a universal 
benefit,  and  a source  both  of  high  social  utility  and  poetic  faith.  Accord- 
ingly, with  his  pen  and  his  speech,  he  urged  the  claims  of  art  upon  his 
countrymen,  not  as  a professor  but  as  a brother,  striving  always  to  make  ap- 
parent the  essential  interest  and  the  national  dignity  of  the  subjeCl,  and 
this  course  he  pursued  with  the  intelligent  mechanic  not  less  than  the 
fashionable  circle. 

Few  authors  by  profession  are  better  equipped  for  literary  art  than  was 
Greenough  ; had  not  sculpture  been  his  chosen  pursuit,  he  would  have 
doubtless  adventured  in  the  field  of  letters.  By  education,  verbal  memory, 
and  remarkable  power  of  expression,  he  was  admirably  fitted  to  excel  as  a 
writer.  In  Europe,  he  had  acquired  entire  facility  in  the  use  of  the  modern 
languages.*  He  had  a natural  love  and  discriminating  taste  for  poetry  ; 
and,  as  has  been  truly  said  by  one  of  his  friends,  was  an  artist  in  the  telling 
of  a story.  Occasionally  he  contributed  to  the  journals  of  the  day,  usually 
in  order  to  dissent  from  some  popular  but  unphilosophical  criticism  on  art, 
or  to  invoke  public  attention  in  favor  of  a negleCled  work  of  genius  ; it  was 
thus  usually  an  impulse  of  generosity  or  a diClate  of  justice  that  led  him  to 

* A friend  writes  of  him  : “ Greenough’s  remarkable  accomplishments  as  a linguist  reminds  me  of  a 
conversation  which  I once  had  with  him  upon  the  subject,  in  which  he  mentioned  a rather  singular 
fact  in  his  intellectnal  experience.  He  said  that  he  learned  all  the  languages  with  which  he  was  ac- 
quainted, except  the  English,  after  he  had  retired  for  the  night.  He  would  take  a grammar  or  a 
book  of  exercises  to  bed  with  him,  and  read  till  he  fell  asleep.  This  practice  of  reading  in  bed,  he 
said,  he  had  pursued  from  boyhood.  I asked  him  if  it  did  not  injure  his  sight.  He  said,  not  at  all ; 
that  he  never  knew  a person  whose  eyes  were  superior  to  his,  nor  more  free  from  infirmity  of  every 
kind.  He  had  some  theory  about  arranging  his  light — I have  forgotten  what  it  was — which  he  sup- 
posed prevented  the  usual  consequences  of  what  I am  convinced,  in  spite  of  his  theory,  is  a very  in- 
jurious habit,  not  only  to  the  eyes,  but  to  the  general  health.” 


2/ 2 


American  Artist  Life. 


take  up  the  pen.  His  friends,  however,  were  desirous  to  see  it  wielded 
with  a more  elaborate  and  definite  purpose  by  a hand  so  skilful ; and  dur- 
ing the  last  year  of  his  life  he  was  frequently  occupied  in  writing.  His 
last  thoughts  were  not  cast  in  a formal  shape,  but  jotted  down  as  occasion 
and  mood  suggested.  Many  of  these  desultory  efforts  he  submitted  to  his 
literary  acquaintances,  and  they  united  in  admiration  of  their  freshness, 
beauty,  and  acumen.  They  were  subsequently  in  part  arranged  in  a book 
form,  but  in  consequence  of  the  various  suggestions  he  received,  and  the 
modifications  he  intended,  the  plan  was  never  wholly  completed.  They  are 
mainly  essays  which  indicate  an  unfinished  achievement ; but  they  are 
none  the  less  precious  and  interesting  as  a record  of  his  opinions  and  senti- 
ments, and  illustrations  of  his  style. 

A critic  has  well  said: — 

“Consider  also  the  valuable  papers  which  he  contributed  to  our  /Esthetic 
Literature.  His  essay  u«pon  Aesthetics  at  Washington,  criticising  with 
judgment  and  kindness  ; requiring  strict  adherence  to  the  canons  of  taste 
and  adaptation  ; deprecating  with  a charitable  denunciation  the  extrava- 
gance which  would  paint  marble  or  granite  ; endeavoring  to  show  by  logi- 
cal deductions  that  a work  of  art  carries  its  own  protection  within  itself, 
and  that  the  creeping  ivy  or  a railing  about  a statue  is  an  embellishment 
which  destroys  the  beauty  and  truthfulness  of  the  sentiments  it  would  in- 
terpret ; showing  with  plausibility  amounting  to  conviction,  that  the  Wash- 
ington Monument,  in  its  union  of  Egyptian  mass  and  weight  with  Grecian 
combination  and  harmony,  is  a striking  violation  of  propriety  ; in  his  essay 
upon  social  theories,  strong  and  proscriptive  in  his  denunciation  of  the 
affectations  of  society,  demanding  the  genuine,  independent,  individual 
man  in  exchange  for  the  disguised  and  dependent  puppet  of  the  world  : 
mistrusting  the  theorist ; crying  out  to  his  fellow  man  : ‘ let  thy  hand  do 
with  its  might  whatever  it  findeth  to  do,  not  because  of  perfection,  which 
is  out  of  reach,  but  because  idleness  is  the  root  of  much  evil ; ’ defending 
American  Art,  and  referring  the  boastfulness  of  European  talkers  to  the 
productions  of  Copley,  Stuart,  Trumbull,  and  Allston  ; opposing  Acade- 
mies as  positive  hindrances  to  advancement  in  Art ; maintaining  that  Amer- 
ican Architecture  has  yielded  too  much  to  a puritanical  intolerance  ; that 
our  Gothic  churches  must  be  severe  in  their  loyalty  to  Gothic  Architecture, 
and  that  one  note  dropped  in  the  execution  destroys  the  harmony  ; that 
we  must  consult  the  law  of  adaptation,  that  fundamental  law  of  nature  in 
all  struclure,  and  from  it  may  be  brought  a system  of  Art  and  Philosophy, 
richer  than  was  ever  dreamed  of  by  the  Greeks  ; that  the  normal  develop- 
ment of  Beauty  is  through  aCtion  to  completeness  ; that  Beauty  is  in  the 
Absolute  ; and,  finally,  that  our  architecture  must  adapt  itself  to  the  climate, 
and  to  the  use  and  objeCt  of  the  structure.” 

The  strictures  upon  art  as  itaCtually  exists  in,  and  is  essentially  related 
to  our  republic,  are  bold,  honest,  and  wise  ; they  have  a practical  value, 
and  are  often  expressed  with  earnestness  and  grace.  A busy  yet  cheerful 
spirit  of  utility,  a genuine  patriotism  and  love  of  beauty  characterize  them  ; 


Greenough. 


273 


and  the  lectures  and  correspondence  should  be  now  gathered  up,  not  only 
as  appropriate  memorials,  but  as  the  endeared  legacy  of  their  author. 
“ His  conversation,”  observes  an  experienced  and  gifted  author,  in  a recent 
letter,  “was  both  brilliant  and  deep  ; and  his  writing  so  remarkable  for  its 
realism  and  its  occasional  splendor,  that  I conceived  the  highest  hope  of 
What  he  should  do,  and  cause  others  to  do,  by  his  speech  and  pen  as  well 
as  by  his  chisel.”* 

In  a letter  to  Paulding,  in  1839,  acknowledging  a book  of  Fairy  Tales 
the  author  had  sent  the  sculptor,  Greenough  says  : “ This  is  what  we 
want,  not  a starveling  and  puritanical  abstinence  from  works  of  fancy  and 
taste,  but  an  adaptation  of  these  to  our  institutions,  and  a harmonizing  of 
them  with  our  morals.”  f 

Greenough  was  a consistent  republican.  His  alternate  residence  in 
Europe  and  America  only  confirmed  his  sympathy  with  the  people  and 
his  faith  in  their  claims.  His  steadfast,  ardent  loyalty  to  the  principles 
of  his  own  country,  is  the  more  remarkable  in  a man  whose  tastes  were  re- 
fined, and  whose  associations  fully  exposed  him  to  the  blandishments  of 
rank  and  fortune.  A spectator  of,  and  to  some  extent  a participator  in,  the 
remarkable  events  of  1848,  his  trust  and  hope  were  never  subdued  by  the 
subsequent  reaction.  His  “ faith  was  large  in  time.”  A witness  of  the 
siege  of  Vienna,  and  an  aCtor  in  the  popular  demonstration  that  celebrat- 
ed the  advent  of  liberty  in  Florence,  he  was  entirely  cognizant  both  of 
the  condition  of  the  masses,  and  the  power  of  the  conservative  party  ; 
but  he  also  had  the  discrimination  and  the  love  of  his  race  which  induces 
a calm  and  earnest  trust  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  freedom.  To  hear  an 
American  defend  the  encroachments  of  European  rulers  upon  popular 
rights,  or  discredit  the  national  impulse,  excited  in  Greenough  warm  in- 
dignation. He  used  to  startle,  and  perhaps  offend,  the  complacent  mem- 
bers of  what  he  called  the  “Tory  party”  in  his  own  country,  by  the  vigor 
of  his  animadversion  or  the  sting  of  his  wit.  And  yet  no  advocate  of 
republican  sentiment  was  ever  more  free  from  prejudice.  It  was  on  the 
wide  ground  of  humanity  that  he  took  his  position  ; and  an  aristocratic 
table  was  often  the  s,cene  of  his  most  eloquent  protest. 

Another  rare  and  precious  trait  was  his  nobility  of  mind.  The  most 
attractive  phase  of  genius  is  its  coincidence  with  magnanimity.  So  genu- 
ine was  his  love  of  art  that  it  made  him  self-oblivious.  When  a brother 
artist,  his  superior  in  executive  ability  for  the  most  profitable  department 
of  sculpture,  became  his  neighbor,  he  not  only  gave  him  a fraternal  wel- 
come, but  cheerfully  yielded  his  best  workmen  and  choicest  marble,  as 
well  as  his  advice  and  encouragement,  to  facilitate  and  cheer  the  stranger. 
When  he  planned  a monumental  trophy,  it  was  almost  invariably  based  on 
the  idea  of  a division  of  labor  that  included  the  services  of  others.  To 
discover  and  proclaim  merit  was  his  delight ; the  glowing  terms  in  which 
he  advocated  the  claims  of  unappreciated  or  modest  talent,  seldom  failed 

* R.  W.  Emerson. 

t Life  of  J.  K.  Paulding,  by  his  Son, — p.  273. 

18 


274 


American  Artis l Life. 

to  kindle  sympathy  ; from  the  rank  of  our  native  artists  no  one  could 
have  been  less  spared  in  this  regard.  His  recognition  was  not  limited  to 
achievement,  but  extended  to  latent  powers.  He  was  one  of  that  invalua- 
ble minority  whose  perception  goes  beneath  the  surface  of  character  and 
the  accidents  of  expression  ; and  perhaps  of  all  his  friends  he  valued 
chiefly  “the  poet  who  never  wrote.” 

The  partiality  of  artists  and  men  of  letters  for  Greenough’s  society  was 
a natural  result  of  his  fine  social  qualities.  He  came  at  once  into  rela- 
tion with  those  who  aspired  to  high  culture,  or  lived  for  intellectual  ends. 
The  frank  hospitality  with  which  he  received  another’s  thought  and  ex- 
pressed his  own,  rendered  companionship  with  him  easy  and  genial.  It 
was  not  requisite  to  accept  his  theory,  or  coincide  in  his  opinions,  in  order 
either  to  enjoy  or  profit  by  his.  society.  Like  Montaigne  he  seemed  rather 
to  prefer  a brisk  encounter  to  an  assimilation  of  minds  ; and  among  those 
most  warmly  attached  to  him  there  was  the  greatest  diversity  of  character 
and  sentiment.  It  was  enough  for  him  that  an  individual  possessed  cour- 
teous, brave,  intelligent,  or  generous  qualities,  to  awaken  respect  or  sym- 
pathy. With  the  independent  thinker,  the  lover  of  beauty,  the  student 
of  art,  he  was  always  at  home,  and  oblivious  of  those  considerations  of 
nationality,  creed,  or  party  that  limit  and  chill  the  associations  of  less 
catholic  minds.  He  entered  with  the  same  relish  into  the  by-way  vagaries 
of  Cole,  Morse,  or  any  of  his  brother  artists  as  they  roamed  over  the  Ro- 
man Campagna  or  the  valley  of  the  Arno,  as  he  discussed  a literary  ques- 
tion with  the  classic  Landor  in  his  villa  garden,  sympathized  with 
Niccolini  in  his  deep  patriotic  regrets,  contributed  to  the  table-talk  of  the 
Marquis  Capponi,  listened  to  memorable  reminiscences  as  he  moulded  the 
benign  features  of  Lafayette,  discussed  American  character  with  Dr. 
Francis,  or  social  reform  with  Emerson. 

Among  his  friends  were  a Hungarian  nobleman,  a Franciscan  friar,  an 
American  Presbyterian  divine,  and  an  Italian  poet.  His  genius  was 
eminently  social.  As  we  trace  the  path  of  his  life,  it  appears  crowded 
with  endeared  and  venerated  forms  ; and  we  feel  that  the  highest  privilege 
won  by  his  talents  and  character,  was  that  of  free  intercourse  with 
superior  minds.  These  selebt  intelligences  quickened  without  interfering 
with  his  nature.  He  was  keenly  appreciative,  and  quick  to  cletebt  the 
promise  as  well  as  the  fruition  of  excellence.  I remember  accompanying 
him  on  a visit  to  a sculptor  who  had  just  completed  an  equestrian  statue, 
and  desired  his  frank  opinion.  The  faults  of  the  work  were  so  apparent 
and  predominant  that  as  he  critically  surveyed  it,  I began  to  wonder  what 
single  encouraging  trait  he  could,  without  violence  to  truth,  recognize. 
His  first  words  were — “ ce  motto  vita,”  and  the  vitality  and  spirit  of  the 
conception  alone  redeemed  it.  The  zeal  with  which  he  welcomed  and 
befriended  Powers  on  his  first  arrival  in  Italy  was  delightful  to  contem- 
plate ; and  few  of  his  countrymen  who  have  gone  abroad  to  follow  art  as 
a vocation,  have  failed  to  experience  his  cheerful  sympathy.  Perhaps  this 
readiness  to  acknowledge  and  foster  talent,  the  spontaneous  interest  which 


Greenough.  275 

a marked  character  or  a gift  of  intellect  excited  in  Greenough,  was  the 
secret  of  his  power  to  elicit  and  refresh  the  thought  of  his  companion. 

By  this  contact  with  leading  minds  in  various  countries,  by  habitual 
observation  of  nature  and  art,  and  especially  through  the  exercise  of 
genuine  mental  independence,  he  disciplined  and  enriched  his  intellect  in 
every  sphere.  True  to  his  American  principles,  he  recognized  no  aristoc- 
racy but  that  of  nature  ; broad  in  his  views  of  life,  he  rose  superior  to  all 
jealousy  or  narrowness  ; bold  and  free  in  opinion,  he  uttered  his  honest 
sentiments  with  candor  and  enthusiasm  ; and  thus,  in  the  character  of  an 
artist,  he  brought  an  ever  fresh  accession  of  information,  wit,  and  geniality 
to  the  social  circle,  and  shed  abroad  the  light  and  glow  of  a noble,  kindly, 
and  intelligent  man.  It  is  in  this  view  that  we  feel  the  void  occasioned 
by  his  death,  and  realize  the  loss  his  country  has  sustained  ; for  art, 
though  a grand  and  beautiful,  is  not  a universal  language,  and  when  her 
gifted  votaries  are  also  priests  at  the  altar  of  humanity,  they  are  doubly 
mourned  and  honored. 


POWERS. 


REMEMBER  standing  with  Powers  at  an  angle  of  one  of 
the  principal  streets  of  Florence,  when  the  Grand  Duke’s 
carriages  and  outriders  passed  in  grand  array  to  the  cathe- 
dral, to  celebrate  some  fete : an  old  resident,  knowing  the 
spectacle  must  be  a novelty  to  the  artist,  who  had  arrived 
but  a few  days  before,  and  doubtless  expending  to  see  him 
greatly  impressed  by  the  brilliant  show,  inquired  if  it  did  not  strike  him 
as  wonderful.  “ It  might  have  done  so,”  he  quietly  replied,  “but  on  the 
voyage  hither  I saw  a whale.”  This  reply,  to  one  who  knows  the  man, 
was  not  only  sarcastic  but  significant.  It  indicated  his  profound  sense  of 
the  marvels  and  mysteries  of  nature — of  her  primary  authority  as  a teacher ; 
and  of  the  utter  inadequacy  of  artificial  shams  to  awe  or  interest  her  honest 
votary.  It  is  not  claiming  any  fanciful  distinction  to  recognize  the  natural- 
istic as  opposed  to  the  classic,  as  an  original  element  of  American  art,  a 
vital  principle  already  initiated  and  destined  to  expand  into  glorious  fruits, 
under  the  free  and  brave  devotion  to  nature,  and  superiority  to  conventional, 
prescriptive,  and  obsolete  formulas  and  phases,  which  is  the  birthright  of 
genius  in  a young  republic,  and  has  been  memorably  foreshadowed  in  the 
American  school  of  landscape,  and  in  such  self-taught  and  ecledtic  sculp- 
tors as  Powers  and  Palmer. 

Hiram  Powers  was  born  at  Woodstock,  Vermont,  a post-village  and  the 
capital  of  Windham  county — fifty  miles  southeast  of  Montpelier,  July  29, 
1805.  The  dwellings  rise  on  both  sides  of  the  Ouechee  river,  near  the 
jundtion  of  the  north  branch  with  the  main  stream,  whereby  extensive  hy- 
draulic powers  are  secured  ; the  town  is  the  centre  of  what  is  considered 
the  best  agricultural  region  in  the  State  ; it  boasts,  like  so  many  of  its 
counterparts  and  compeers,  not  only  a court-house,  school,  newspaper, 
bank,  park,  stores,  and  churches — but  a medical  college  ; and,  ten  years 
ago,  its  population  was  less  than  two  thousand.  No  inadequate  school 
and  environment  for  an  honest  and  capable  soul  is  this  free  and  whole- 
some, however  limited  home  ; one  who  ranges  on  a fine  summer  or 
a cheery  autumn  day,  the  pleasant  tributary  of  the  Connedficut,  cannot 
wonder  that  the  boy  who  once  angled  in  its  waters,  or  skated  on  their  sur- 
face, beheld,  years  after,  with  grateful  emotion,  even  the  marks  on  the  old 
stone  door-step  of  his  childhood’s  home,  where  he  sharpened  his  file.  With 


Powers. 


277 

the  air  he  first  breathed,  the  landscape  he  earliest  knew  and  loved,  the 
domestic  discipline,  duties,  and  privations— as  well  as  comforts  and  sanc- 
tions endeared  to  his  boyhood,  the  future  sculptor  imbibed  and  conserved 
there  a national  pride  and  principle  which  have  clung  to  him  in  undiminished 
fervor  and  force.  He  was  one  of  a large  family,  frugal,  laborious,  and 
affectionate,  and  accounts  it  as  a special  blessing  of  his  childhood  to  have 
been  reared  by  “ honest  and  harmonious”  parents.  It  was,  too,  propitious 
for  his  healthful  development,  that  he  was  born  and  grew  up,  as  it  were,  in 
the  embrace  of  Nature — her  pure  breath  freshened,  her  rigors  invigorated, 
her  loveliness  charmed  and  cheered,  and  her  freedom  ennobled.  However 
limited  in  special  means  of  culture,  Powers,  in  the  retrospect,  has  learned 
to  feel  deeply  thankful  that  his  first  years  were  passed  in  the  country.  Those 
years  alternated  between  school  and  farm  work,  play  and  home  associations  ; 
the  only  distinctive  trait  exhibited  by  the  child  was  mechanical  ingenuity  ; 
he  excelled  in  caricature,  was  an  adept  in  construCtiveness — having  made 
countless  wagons,  windmills,  and  weapons  for  his  comrades,  attaining  the 
height  of  juvenile  reputation  as  the  inventor  of  what  he  called  a “patent 
fuse.”  When  the  crops  fell  short  and  famine  threatened,  by  virtue  of  a 
process  graphically  described  by  Irving,  Hall,  and  Flint,  emigration  to  the 
West  became  the  best  expedient  for  large  families  in  unprosperous  agricul- 
tural districts  of  New  England,  and  the  Powers  household  removed  from 
Vermont  to  Western  New  York,  and  thence  to  Ohio.  Long  after,  the  future 
artist  remembered  the  feelings  with  which  he  caught  the  last  glimpse  of  the 
church-spire  of  Woodstock.  He  proposed  to  his  mother  before  leaving, 
that  they  should  ascend  a neighboring  hill  and  take  a last  look.  Cincin- 
nati was  just  in  the  early  flush  of  her  rapid  growth  ; enterprise  found 
scope,  and  trade  centered  there  ; emigration  flowed  thither ; steam  navi- 
gation kept  up  constant  intercourse  with  the  two  extremes  of  border  and 
civilized  life  ; society  was  in  a transition  state,  but  intelligence,  adventure, 
freedom,  and  faith  constituted  aCtive  elements  therein:  altogether,  it  was 
a sphere  full  of  opportunities  and  excitements,  even  for  a poor  and  home- 
sick youth,  with  character  and  faculty.  At  first,  Hiram  Powers  merely 
sought  an  honest  subsistence  ; he  was  employed,  for  at  ime,  in  a reading- 
room,  and  as  a travelling  collector  of  debts — occupations  which  brought  him 
in  contaCt  with  great  varieties  of  human  character  ; while  the  latter  neces- 
sitated long  journeys  on  horseback  through  the  woods — not  destitute  of 
perils  or  without  the  zest  of  adventure  ; the  observations  and  incidents  of 
those  days  yielded  to  one  so  keen  of  sight  and  thoughtful  of  mood,  abun- 
dant materials  for  salient  reminiscence.  In  changing  farm  for  city  life, 
however,  Powers  had  not  laid  aside  his  favorite  recreation,  and  continued 
to  exercise  his  mechanical  and  imitative  skill  ; the  first  steamboat  he  ever 
saw  attracted  his  delighted  attention,  until  he  perfectly  understood  its 
machinery  ; and  he  found  ere  long  more  congenial  employment  in  a clock 
laCtory.  But  his  talent  for  modelling  became  known,  and  he  was  en- 
gaged by  the  proprietor  of  a popular  and  profitable  museum,  to  exercise 
both  his  plastic  and  his  mechanical  talent  in  behalf  thereof ; they  soon 


278 


American  Artist  Life. 


made  the  exhibition  famous, — partly  by  the  lurid  horrors  of  the  “Infer- 
nal regions,”  and  still  more,  to  the  eye  of  taste,  by  the  extraordinary  life- 
semblance  of  his  waxen  effigies — no  approach  to  which  had  previously 
been  seen  here,  and  rarely  abroad.  Numerous  anecdotes  founded  on  this 
imitative  skill  are  still  current  at  Cincinnati ; as,  for  instance,  that  a waxen 
image  received  the  tickets  of  the  crowd  during  a whole  evening,  without 
exciting  suspicion  ; and  the  waxen  face  of  a child,  taken  after  death,  and 
made  life-like  from  memory,  to  appease  its  mother’s  grief,  so  renewed  and 
prolonged  it  by  its  too  real  aspeCt,  that  in  mercy  to  her,  it  was  destroyed. 

The  manifest  ability  of  Powers,  in  these  waxen  models,  led  by  a natural 
and  almost  necessary  transition  to  his  experiments  in  a more  durable  ma- 
terial, and  for  a higher  end.  He  learned  the  art  of  modelling  in  plaster 
from  a German  ; and  was  soon  congenially  occupied  in  moulding  the  features 
of  the  leading  American  statesmen  of  the  day  ; his  vocation  became  more 
and  more  patent  ; and  the  admirable  accuracy  and  expressiveness  of  his 
busts  sufficed  to  extend  and  establish  his  reputation.  Cheered  by  domestic 
ties,  encouraged  by  many  friends,  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  efficient  of 
whom  was  Mr.  Longworth,  the  life  of  the  farmer’s  son  and  the  Western 
emigrant,  gradually  emerged  from  casual  and  adroit  to  regular  and  aspiring 
development.  His  chosen  pursuit  soon  gained  him  the  best  social  privileges. 
While  modelling  the  remarkable  heads  of  General  Jackson  and  Daniel 
Webster,  of  John  C.  Calhoun,  Chief-Justice  Marshall,  and  Colonels  Johnson 
and  Preston, — rare  and  emphatic  types  of  the  American  character  and  phy- 
siognomy, such  as  modern  sculptors  seldom  enjoy, — his  frank  and  original 
nature  won  the  confidence  of  his  illustrious  sitters  ; and  some  of  the  most 
pleasant  and  most  profitable  hours  of  his  life  were  those  thus  occupied — 
affording  him  many  genial  subjects  of  patriotic  recollection.  In  several 
instances  he  was  the  guest  of  these  gentlemen,  and  worked  at  their  busts 
when  leisure  and  the  mood  served  ; thus  becoming  familiar  with  them  in 
their  own  homes.  His  sojourn  at  Marshfield  was  especially  a period  of  en- 
joyment. Having  cast  these  and  many  other  heads,  and  received,  in  advance, 
a portion  of  his  remuneration,  the  artist  shipped  them  to  Italy,  and  then 
embarked  with  his  family,  to  finish  them  in  marble  there,  and  open  his 
studio  in  Florence.  The  facilities  afforded  the  sculptor  abroad,  both  as  to 
the  price  of  labor,  the  use  of  living  models,  the  abundance  and  excellence 
of  the  material  of  his  art,  and  cheapness  of  subsistence,  were  the  prevailing 
motives  for  this  change  of  residence.  His  strong  attachment  to  home  and 
kindred,  the  demand  for  his  services  there,  and  his  absolute  faith  in  Nature, 
as  both  the  object  and  the  inspiration  of  the  artist — would  have  kept  him 
in  America  : but  the  economical  arguments  were  decisive  ; he  reluctantly 
accepted  exile,  and  established  himself  at  Florence  in  the  autumn  of  1837  ; 
and,  unlike  the  majority  of  his  countrymen  who  visit  Italy  for  the  same 
purposes,  has  conserved  intaCt  his  national  predilections,  and  made  his 
family  and  his  studio,  with  the  occasional  society  of  his  countrymen,  the 
almost  exclusive  sphere  of  activity  and  affeCtion.  Indeed,  the  method  of 
his  work,  the  individuality  of  his  convictions,  the  whole  spirit  of  the  man, 


Powers. 


279 


vvere  too  self-reliant  and  positive  to  be  easily  modified  ; and  it  is  this  very 
limit  and  law  which  render  him  interesting.  In  becoming  a sculptor  and 
a resident  in  Florence,  Hiram  Powers  never  ceased  to  be  and  to  appear 
the  American,  born  in  Vermont,  and  reared  in  Ohio.  While  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  his  casts,  at  Florence,  he  modelled  several  busts  ; and  among 
them  that  of  a beautiful  countrywoman  and  a Harvard  professor — each  a 
fine  subjeCt  in  its  way.  It  was  while  watching  Powers  at  work  upon  these 
busts,  that  the  wonderful  accuracy  of  his  observation,  the  acuteness  of  his 
insight,  and  the  delicate  truth  of  his  manipulation,  impressed  me  with  a 
conviction  that  in  certain  processes  and  possibilities  of  his  art,  he  stands 
unrivalled  ; and  that  by  virtue  of  native  endowments,  their  scope,  instead  of 
being  dwarfed,  gained  certainty  and  force  by  the  desultory  discipline  and 
mechanical  experiments  of  his  novitiate.  A domestic  affliction,  deepened 
in  its  sadness  by  occurring  in  a foreign  land,  for  a while  suspended  his 
labors  and  depressed  his  heart ; and  being  one  of  his  few  and  frequent 
companions,  I then  and  there  learned  to  estimate  the  qualities  of  the  man, 
as  I had  before  learned  to  appreciate  the  capabilities  of  the  artist.  Through 
the  vestibule  of  sorrow  Powers  soon  passed  into  the  temple  of  fame. 
Greenough’s  fraternal  welcome  and  assiduous  care  gave  him  facilities  not 
easily  obtained  by  a novice  ; and  he  soon  became  congenially  occupied. 
Thorwaldsen  visited  his  studio,  and  pronounced  his  bust  of  Webster  the 
best  work  of  the  kind  executed  in  modern  times  : orders  flowed  in  upon 
him  from  the  English  and  Italians,  as  well  as  Americans.  When  not  engaged 
upon  marble  portraits,  he  worked  on  an  ideal  female  figure — every  detail  of 
which  was  drawn  from  nature,  and  finished  to  the  highest  point  of  plastic  truth. 
The  result  was  a type  of  the  beautiful,  which  instantly  gained  recognition 
also  as  the  true.  Not  for  emphasis  of  expression  in  feature,  but  for  har- 
monious expression  in  form, — the  legitimate  ideal  of  sculpture, — did  the 
“ Greek  Slave”  win  admiration  : purchased  by  an  English  amateur,  its  dupli- 
cates exhibited  in  the  United  States  and  at  the  World’s  Fair,  no  modern 
statue  ever  awakened  more  interest,  or  gained  for  its  author  such  in- 
stant fame  ; while  the  permanency  of  the  charm  may  be  inferred  from  the 
faCt  that  the  original,  when  exposed  to  public  sale,  a few  years  since,  with 
the  rest  of  the  deceased  owner’s  collection  in  London,  brought  a third  more 
than  the  first  cost.  Powers  is  an  ecleCtic  in  the  study  of  Nature,  and  has 
triumphed  over  academical  dogmas  and  dictation.  Accompanying  him 
through  the  Florence  galleries,  I noticed  that  his  views  of  his  own  art  were 
decisive  and  clear  ; he  had  evidently  thought  out  the  subjeCt,  and  few  artists 
could  so  expatiate  upon  the  laws  and  relations  of  Nature— especially  in 
regard  to  the  human  form  and  face  ; his  comments  on  the  marble  treasures 
of  the  Ufizzi  gallery  and  the  Pitti,  were  original  ; he  instinctively  sought 
character,  and  ignored  the  conventional  ; he  had  been  too  long  near  the 
heart  of  Nature,  he  had  lived  too  much  in  an  atmosphere  of  freedom  and 
faith,  he  had  been  too  well  accustomed  to  depend  on  himself,  to  be  blinded 
by  authority  or  awed  by  precedent.  His  sympathies  were  limited,  but  they 
were  genuine  ; and  if  mechanical  skill  was  his  birthright,  he  could  none 


28o 


American  Artist  Life. 


the  less  recognize  the  spiritual  philosophy  of  Swedenborg ; independent, 
original,  and  firm — there  was  a refreshing  American  phase  and  force  in  the 
sculptor’s  mind  and  hand,  which  promised,  not  indeed  classical  reproduc- 
tion or  fanciful  creativeness,  but  an  authentic,  and  therefore  effective,  grasp 
and  glow  of  Nature  and  Humanity.  Such  was  the  inference  drawn  from  an 
early  acquaintance  ; and  time  has  amply  confirmed  it.  A bust,  when  the 
subjeCt  is  favorable,  from  the  chisel  of  Powers,  is  now  acknowledged  to  be 
one  of  the  choieest  works  of  art,  in  its  way,  obtainable  ; and  one  intrinsic- 
ally valuable  and  interesting,  like  a portrait  by  Vandyke  or  Titian,  inde- 
pendent of  likeness  or  personal  association.  The  career  prophesied  by  the 
waxen  effigy  of  Jackson,  made  in  a newly  settled  city  of  the  West,  and  con- 
firmed by  the  graceful  and  harmonious  woman’s  form  shaped  so  exquisitely 
on  the  banks  of  the  Arno,  has  fulfilled  its  promise  in  a series  of  marble 
portraits,  full  of  character,  and  with  a flesh-like  texture. before  unknown  to 
stone  ; and  figures  of  statesmen,  allegorical  female  forms,  or  lithe,  exquisite, 
and  characteristic  creations, — wherein  it  is  not  invention  and  variety,  as  in 
Crawford,  nor  pure  grace,  as  in  Canova,  nor  absolute  sublimity,  as  in  Michael 
Angelo, — but  a certain  fidelity  in  character,  detail,  and  finish,  which,  how- 
ever limited,  is  lasting  in  its  attractiveness  and  its  truth,  and  gives  a dis- 
tinctive value  and  interest  to  the  work  of  Powers. 

“ Such  is  the  precision  of  his  eye,”  says  Calvert,  “ that  he  who  exacts 
of  himself  the  most  faithful  conformity  to  Nature’s  measurements,  never 
needs  the  help  of  compasses  to  attain  it.  Such  is  his  sense  of  the  Beau- 
tiful, that  he  does  justice  to  the  most  beautiful  countenance,  and  has  given 
a new  grace  even  to  draperies.  Such  his  sympathy  with  life,  that  with 
equal  ease  he  seizes  the  expressions  of  all  kinds  of  physiognomies,  so  that 
you  cannot  say  that  he  does  men  better  than  women,  old  better  than 
young  ; and  hereby,  in  conjunction  with  his  mimetic  talent,  he  imparts 
such  an  elastic  look  to  his  marble  flesh,  that  the  spiritual  essence,  where- 
with all  Nature’s  living  forms  are  vivified,  may  be  imagined  to  stream 
from  his  finger  ends  while  he  works.” 

The  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  was  so  delighted  with  his  bust  of  the 
Duchess,  that  he  called  at  his  studio,  and  asked  Powers  to  apply  to  him 
whenever  he  could  do  him  a service.  The  artist  asked  and  obtained  per- 
mission to  take  a cast  of  the  Venus — a favor  vainly  sought  by  other  artists, 
for  years  ; he  also  removed  the  shell  from  the  Palace  cabinet  to  model  it 
for  his  Fisher  Boy. 

How  such  a workman  views  his  art,  what  he  thinks  of  the  process  and 
the  patronage  thereof,  the  means  and  methods,  must  be  worth  knowing, 
if  for  no  other  reason,  because  independence  of  judgment  and  consistency 
in  practice  are  so  rare  in  the  record  of  artist-life.  A few  extracts  from  his 
correspondence  with  a friend,  of  so  general  a nature  as  to  involve  no 
breach  of  delicacy  in  their  revelation,  will  give  us  a glimpse,  at  least,  into 
the  artist’s  thoughts  and  experience. 

In  reply  to  a suggestion  of  an  ignorant  critic,  that  inferior  workmen  can 
nanufaCture  artistic  ideals,  he  writes  : “ You  do  not  suppose  that  any 


Powers. 


281 


genuine  work  of  art  can  be  produced  in  this  manner,  but  it  is  the  way  to 
make  a show.  The  King  of  Bavaria  has  made  a grand  show  of  the  kind, 
an  imitation  of  the  Parthenon,  without  a single  celebrated  work  in  it,  I 
mean  of  modern  sculpture.  There  is  an  idea  abroad,  that  a sculptor  may 
have  most  of  his  work  done  by  laborers,  and  then  by  a few  finishing 
touches,  make  it  all  his  own,  but  there  was  never  a greater  error.  It  is 
true  enough  that  on  the  marble  most  of  the  work  can  be  so  done,  but  the 
workmen  capable  of  doing  it  are  rare.  I find  it  difficult  to  obtain  such 
assistance,  and  the  best  require  constant  watching.  I can  get  no  one  to 
model  for  me  ; they  can  put  up  the  clay  or  plaster,  as  the  case  may  be, 
and  prepare  the  material,  guided  by  measurement,  from  a small  model  ; 
but  there  they  must  stop,  unless  I stand  by  them  and  diredl  them,  which 
would  be  no  saving  of  time.  The  little  here  and  the  little  there,  taking 
off  and  putting  on,  cannot  be  done  by  workmen,  even  if  the  small  model  is 
ever  so  perfect.  I speak  from  experience,  for  I have  tried  it  to  my  cost. 
The  Sydenham  Crystal  Palace  Company  requested  me  to  give  them  a 
large  copy  in  plaster  of  my  statue  of  4 America,’  to  represent  our  coun- 
try at  their  establishment,  and  they  offered  me  a hundred  pounds  for  it. 
I told  them  I could  not  afford  to  do  it  myself  for  that  sum,  but  would 
engage  another  sculptor  to  do  it  from  the  original  model,  highly  finished, 
and  of  life  size  ; and  with  their  consent,  I engaged,  not  a student  or  a mere 
workman,  but  one  of  the  cleverest  sculptors  in  Florence,  and  I paid  him 
all  the  money  before  he  had  finished  it ; and  when  it  was  brought  home,  I 
found  it  so  very  defective  that  I determined  to  pay  back  the  money  from 
my  own  means,  rather  than  let  it  go  and  represent  me  and  our  country  at 
the  Crystal  Palace.  They  were  loth  to  let  me  do  so,  but  I insisted,  and 
finally  they  accepted  the  hundred  pounds.  The  artist  has  never  repaid 
me,  and  never  will,  as  he  is  not  able.  You  may  ask,  if  workmen  can  be 
found  capable  of  executing  much  of  the  work  in  the  marble,  why  not  on 
the  model,  from  a small  sketch  ? A plaster  cast  from  a clay  model  is 
always  used  to  work  from.  It  is  hard,  and  will  bear  the  pressure  of 
the  compasses  ; not  so  with  the  clay,  which  shrinks  and  swells  continually, 
and  besides  it  is  too  soft  to  resist  the  points  of  the  compasses.  It  is  true 
approximations  to  measurement  may  be  made,  but  that  is  all.  In  all  the 
niceties  of  the  work,  the  eye  and  not  the  compasses  must  be  relied  on. 
There  is  an  idea  prevalent,  which  is.  that  common  laborers  may  be  em- 
ployed upon  sculpture  to  a certain  extent.  But  this  is  far  from  being  the 
case  where  work  is  done  faithfully.  The  blocker-out  must  be  a very  care- 
ful and  capable  man,  for  a single  error — cutting  too  deep,  or  clipping  off 
too  much  anywhere,  spoils  a statue.  There  is  no  remedy  for  it.  None  but 
the  most  competent  can  be  safely  trusted.” 

His  views  on  the  subject  of  competition  for  designs  are  thus  given  : — 

“ The  truth  is,  no  such  commission  was  ever  offered  me.  The  military 
and  civil  engineer  appointed  to  superintend  the  construdtion  of  the  new 
Capitoi  buildings  wanted  me  to  propose  to  him  for  the  commission  to  deco- 
rate the  north  pediment,  and  prepare  designs  for  his  consideration  ; and 


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American  Artist  Life . 


he  said  that,  if  accepted,  I might  execute  the  designs  myself  from  the 
models,  or  he  would  have  them  done  upon  the  spot  by  workmen  in  the 
employ  of  the  government.  This  is  the  substance  of  the  proposal.  I de- 
clined it,  as  in  a similar  instance  previously.  In  short,  I never  did,  nor 
will,  prepare  designs  and  submit  them  to  the  chances  of  a lottery,  accord- 
ing to  the  decisions  of  any  one.  First  give  me  the  commission,  and  then 
I will  prepare  the  designs,  and,  if  required,  submit  them  to  consideration. 
I am  not  alone  in  this.  There  are  many  artists  who  think,  with  me,  that 
their  credit  as  such  entitles  them  to  confidence.” 

American  travellers  in  Italy  will  sometimes  be  repelled  by  a certain  nar- 
rowness in  the  critical  estimate  of  modern  sculptors  ; though  of  all  arts, 
sculpture  demands  and  justifies  the  most  liberal  eclecticism.  Thus,  a 
broad  line  of  demarcation  has  been  arbitrarily  drawn  between  high  finish 
and  prolific  invention,  originality  and  superficial  skill  ; as  if  these  merits 
could  not  be  united,  or  were  incompatible  with  each  other, — and  as  if,  in- 
variably, works  of  “outward  skill  elaborate”  are  “of  inward  less  exaCt.” 
A Boston  critic  denominates  Powers  “a  sublime  mechanic,”  as  if  there 
were  only  physical  imitation  in  his  busts,  and  no  expression  in  his  figures. 
The  insinuation  is  unjust.  By  exquisite  finish  and  patient  labor  he  makes 
of  such  subjects  as  the  Fisher-Boy,  the  Proserpine,  and  II  Penseroso 
charming  creations, — in  attitude  and  feature  true  to  the  moment  and  the 
mood  delineated,  and  not  less  true  in  each  detail ; their  popularity  is  jus- 
tified by  scientific  and  tasteful  canons  ; and  his  portrait  busts  and  statues 
are,  in  many  instances,  unrivalled  for  character  as  well  as  execution.  A 
letter  to  one  of  his  friends  lies  before  me,  in  which  he  responds  to  an 
amicable  remonstrance  at  his  apparent  slowness  of  achievement.  The 
reasoning  is  so  cogent,  the  principle  asserted  of  such  wide  application, 
and  the  artistic  conscience  so  nobly  evident,  that  we  venture  to  quote  a 
passage  : — 

“ It  is  said,  that  works  designed  to  adorn  buildings  need  not  be  done 
with  much  care,  being  only  architectural  sculptures.  This  is  quite  a 
modern  idea.  The  Greeks  did  not  entertain  it,  as  is  proved  by  those  gems 
which  Lord  Elgin  sawed  away  from  the  walls  of  the  Parthenon.  I can- 
not admit  that  a noble  art  should  ever  be  prostituted  to  purposes  of  mere 
show.  They  do  not  make  rough  columns,  coarse  and  uneven  friezes, 
jagged  mouldings,  etc.,  for  buildings.  These  are  always  highly  finished. 
Are  figures  in  marble  less  important?  But  speed,  speed,  is  the  order  of 
the  day, — ‘ quick  and  cheap  ’ is  the  cry  ; and  if  I prefer  to  linger  behind 
and  take  pains  with  the  little  I do,  there  are  some  now,  and  there  will  be 
more  hereafter,  to  approve  it.  I cannot  consent  to  model  statutes  at  the 
rate  of  three  in  six  months,  and  a clear  conscience  will  reward  me  for  not 
having  yielded  to  the  temptation  of  making  money  at  the  sacrifice  of  my 
artistic  reputation.  Art  is  or  should  be,  poetry,  in  its  various  forms, — no 
matter  what  it  is  written  upon, — parchment,  paper,  canvas,  or  marble. 
Milton  employed  his  daughter  to  write  his  ‘ Paradise  Lost,’  not  to  com- 
pose it;  her  hand  was  moved  by  his  soul ; she  was  his  modelling-tool, — 


Powers. 


283 


nothing  more.  But  to  employ  another  to  model  for  you,  and  go  away 
from  him,  is  not  analogous.  He  then  composes  for  you  ; modelling  is 
composition.  And  whom  did  Shakespeare  get  to  do  this  for  him  ? Whom 
did  Gray  employ  to  arrange  in  words  that  immortal  wreath  set  with  dia- 
mond thoughts  which  he  has  thrown  upon  a country  church-yard  ? Whom 
did  Michael  Angelo  get  to  model  his  Moses  ? How  many  young  men  did 
Ghiberti  employ  during  the  forty  years  he  was  engaged  upon  the  Gates 
of  Paradise  ? 1 cannot  yield  my  convictions  of  what  is  proper  in  Art. 

I will  do  my  work  as  well  as  I know  how,  and  necessity  compels  me  to 
demand  ample  payment  for  it,” 

Not  without  the  inevitable  obstacles  and  perplexities  of  artist-life  has 
been  this,  on  the  whole,  so  prosperous  career  : injudicious  friends,  envious 
rivals,  perverse  criticism  have  involved  Powers  in  controversy,  and  wounded 
his  sense  of  justice.  The  appropriation  made  by  Congress  for  his  statue 
of  America  was  long  unworthily  diverted  from  its  end  ; after  prescribing 
the  material  and  costume  for  the  statue  of  Webster,  some  of  those  who 
gave  the  commission,  disappointed  in  the  result,  which  they  absurdly 
undertook  to  appreciate  before  the  statue  was  in  a position  to  be  rightly 
seen, — indulged  in  the  most  unjustifiable  sneers  : second  thoughts  and 
better  opportunities  of  judgment  have  indeed  modified,  if  not  quite  over- 
come, those  objections,  and  the  firm  friendship  of  Edward  Everett  sustained 
the  artist’s  cause  ; but  the  discussion  led  the  artist  with  good  cause  to  say  : 
“ If  statues  of  our  great  men  are  wanted  expressing  fancy  rather  than 
faCt,  other  sculptors  must  be  employed  to  execute  them.” 

Artists  are  proverbially  sensitive  ; but  this  trait  is  deepened  by  exile 
and  conscious  personal  sacrifices  to  a sense  of  right,  and  an  ideal  of  pro- 
fessional excellence.  The  strong  home  attachments  of  Powers,  his  patient 
elaboration  as  an  artist,  whereby  the  quantity  was  made  subservient  to  the 
quality  of  his  work,  and  therefore  gain  foregone  for  the  sake  of  reCtitude, 
made  him  keenly  alive  to  unjust  or  unfeeling  comments  or  conduCt  in  his 
native  land.  In  the  instances  we  have  referred  to,  where,  through  igno- 
rance, selfish  motives,  or  parsimony,  his  claims  as  an  artist  were  disregarded 
or  outraged,  the  wound  to  his  moral  sensibilities  was  keen  ; yet  the  spirit 
in  which  these  obstacles  and  annoyances,  to  call  them  by  no  harsher  name, 
were  met  and  overcome,  is  too  characteristic  of  the  man  to  be  ignored  in 
an  estimate  of  his  qualities  and  career.  He  sometimes  frankly  and  freely 
expressed  his  feelings  to  those  who  had  his  confidence  and  afifeCtion, 
among  whom  he  owned  as  devoted  and  attached  friends  men  of  position 
and  of  character,  which  any  modern  artist  might  be  reasonably  proud  to 
have  allied  to  his  interests  and  his  heart.  There  is  a lesson  for  the  incon- 
siderate in  these  glimpses  into  the  bosom  of  a gifted  and  honest  devotee 
of  the  beautiful  and  the  true,  which  justifies  their  publicity,  apart  from  any 
special  application  : — 

“ If  I feel  these  things,”  he  observes,  “ it  is  but  natural.  It  is  but  natural 
that  one  who  has  labored  so  long,  should  expeCt  to  find  some  sympathy, 
some  return  for  his  sacrifices  of  home  and  country.  If  we  go  out  in  the  morn- 


284 


American  Artist  Life. 


ing  of  life  to  hunt,  leaving  our  home  and  fireside,  we  naturally  desire  to  find 
it  when  we  come  back  in  the  evening,  weary,  if  not  exhausted  by  the  chase  ; 
we  should  find  something  reserved  for  ourselves  ; every  seat  should  not  be 
occupied  ; there  should  be,  at  least,  one,  and  a bed  to  die  upon,  if  not  to 
lie  upon.  I have  none  of  these  comforts.  I look  back,  indeed,  with  old 
and  longing  eyes,  and  if  they  are  filled  with  tears,  it  is  because  there  is 
nothing  else  to  fill  them  ; they  see  no  spot  of  earth  belonging  to  me  large 
enough  for  my  support,  and  when  they  look  back  here,  they  find  not  the 
means  to  purchase  such  a spot.  It  is  with  Art  as  it  is  with  almost  every 
other  profession  : he  who  enters  the  lists  should  come  into  the  world  armed 
to  the  teeth,  for  his  way  is  already  blocked  up  ; he  must  open  it,  or  die 
upon  his  mother’s  breast.  I do  not  wish  to  complain,  but  rather  turn  to 
Him  who  never  complained,  who  conquered  by  his  forbearance,  not  by  his 
might,  for  passive  resistance  is  more  mighty  than  adtive  warfare  : we  may 
dig  into  and  burn  the  heart  of  mountains,  but  cannot  level  them  with  the 
plain  : the  great  Eastern  river  annually  sweeps  to  the  ocean  a thousand 
pyramids,  and  still  the  great  mountains  of  the  East  remain  sublimely  point- 
ing to  the  heavens,  unchanged  and  undiminished.  I have  at  last  learned 
what  all  men  have  to  learn,  that  there  is  but  one  true  aim  for  ambition  : 
we  may  indeed  aim  to  hit  the  moon  or  even  the  sun,  but  if  we  would  hit 
our  mark,  we  must  aim  at  something  within  our  reach  : let  us  then  aim  to 
be  good  ; a far-off  mark,  but  attainable,  if  we  have  wisdom.” 

The  American  characteristics  of  Powers  exhibit  themselves  not  less  in 
his  inventive  faculty,  than  in  the  independence  and  self-reliance  of  his  na- 
ture. To  him  sculptors  are  indebted  for  a process  of  modelling  in  plaster 
which  obviates  the  necessity  of  taking  a clay  model,  in  the  first  instance  ; 
and  thereby  expedites  the  work — saving  both  time  and  labor.  He  invented 
a finishing  file,  an  apparatus  for  hanging  statues  in  grimbels  whereby  their 
easy  and  safe  transportation  is  secure,  a method  of  packing  statuary,  new 
kinds  of  manipulating  tools  and  many  other  valuable  mechanical  aids  and 
appliances  to  facilitate  and  promote  the  labors  of  his  art.  His  son,  ap- 
parently inheriting  this  aptness  and  contrivance,  is  one  of  the  best  photo- 
graphers in  Florence,  especially  in  the  representation  of  works  of  sculpture, 
with  a precision  and  relievo  seldom  attained. 

The  first  entire  and  ideal  figure  which  gave  the  artist  renown,  was  the 
“Greek  Slave,”  of  which  there  have  been  executed  and  sold  six  duplicates. 
The  sources  whence  were  derived  the  beautiful  traits  of  this  work  are  su£- 
gested  by  the  sculptor  himself  when  he  remarks  in  one  of  his  letters  : “ The 
best  models  are  found  in  those  walks  of  life  where  nature  predominates 
over  art  ; and  I have  found  the  best  models  among  what  are  termed  the 
working  classes.”  In  other  words,  the  artist  is  ecledtic,  and  combines  from 
Nature  her  scattered  beauties.  As  to  the  subjedt,  it  is  simply  a beautiful 
woman  in  a position  of  humiliation  and  sorrow,  but  elevated  above  it  by 
conscious  faith  ; it  is  not  so  much  any  dramatic  expressiveness,  but  that 
unanswerable  appeal  that  makes  “a  thing  of  beauty  a joy  forever,”  that  is 
herein  manifest.  “The  Slave  has  been  taken  from  one  of  the  Greek  isl- 


Powers. 


285 


ands  by  the  Turks,  in  the  time  of  the  Greek  revolution  ; the  history  of 
which  is  familiar  to  all.  Her  father  and  mother,  and  perhaps  all  her  kin- 
dred, have  been  destroyed  by  her  foes,  and  she  alone  preserved  as  a treas- 
ure too  valuable  to  be  thrown  away.  She  is  now  among  barbarian  stran- 
gers, under  the  pressure  of  a full  recolleCtion  of  the  calamitous  events  which 
have  brought  her  to  her  present  state  ; and  she  stands  exposed  to  the  gaze 
of  the  people  she  abhors,  and  awaits  her  fate  with  intense  anxiety,  tempered 
indeed  by  the  support  of  her  reliance  upon  the  goodness  of  God.  Gather 
all  the  afflictions  together,  and  add  to  them  the  fortitude  and  resignation 
of  a Christian,  and  no  room  will  be  left  for  shame.  Such  are  the  circum- 
stances under  which  the  Greek  slave  is  supposed  to  stand.’' 

How  this  work  affeCted  spectators  of  moral  sensibility  or  aesthetic  insight, 
may  be  gathered  from  the  expressed  views  of  its  eminent  admirers.  Of 
the  fidelity  in  details  in  the  artist’s  work,  Edward  Everett  in  speaking  of 
his  busts  observes:-— 

“ If  urged  by  native  inclination,  he  had  succeeded  in  imitating  nature 
servilely,  though  with  exactness,  it  would  not  have  been  matter  of  great 
astonishment.  But  at  the  very  first  glance,  Mr.  Powers  rose  to  the  just 
conception  of  a kind  of  representation  which  should  contain,  in  union  with 
all  the  characteristic  parts,  the  natural  and  expressive  spirit  of  each  individ- 
ual. He  has  dedicated  himself  to  the  preservation  of  the  whole  character, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  he  imitates  the  porosities  and  habitual  wrinkles  of 
the  skin  ; so  that  he  might  be  called  the  Denner  of  Sculpture.  He  spares 
no  pains  to  make  every  head  preserve,  in  even  the  smallest  part,  that 
harmonious  type, — composed  at  once  of  unity  and  variety, — which  belongs 
to  itself ; — a special  quality  of  nature,  which  escapes  the  eye  of  many.” 

And  when  this  exceeding  truth  to  nature  is  applied  to  a beautiful  creation, 
we  have  as  a natural  consequence,  the  ineffable  charm  which  is  the  poetry 
of  art. 

“ The  Greek  Slave,”  says  Dewey,  “ is  clothed'  all  over  with  sentiment, 
sheltered,  protected  by  it  from  every  profane  eye.  Brocade,  cloth  of  gold, 
could  not  be  a more  complete  protection  than  the  vesture  of  holiness  in 
which  she  stands.  For  what  does  she  stand  there  ? To  be  sold — to  be 
sold  to  a Turkish  harem.  A perilous  position  to  be  chosen  by  an  artist  of 
high  and  virtuous  intent.  A perilous  point  for  the  artist,  being  a good  man, 
to  compass.  What  is  it?  Ths  highest  point  in  all  art.  To  make  the 
spiritual  reign  over  the  corporeal  ; to  sink  form  in  ideality.”  • 

A lack  of  definite  and  dramatic  expressiveness  in  statuary  is  an  old  ob- 
jection, especially  urged  when  beauty  of  form,  grace,  delicacy — a kind  of 
abstract  loveliness,  characterizes  a statue  ; but  the  imitations  of  the  art  and 
its  ideal  suggestiveness  often  modify,  if  they  do  not  annul,  such  criticism. 
This  beautiful  female  figure  bears  the  emblems,  yet  wears  not  the  subdued 
look  of  captivity  ; and,  for  that  very  reason,  vindicates  its  significance  to 
imaginative  sympathy — showing  that  Beauty  is  not  only  a Joy  but  a Power 
forever.  Hear  Mrs.  Browning’s  apostrophe  : 


286 


American  Artist  Life. 


Appeal,  fair  stone, 

From  God’s  pure  height  of  beauty,  against  man’s  wrong  ; 

Catch  up  in  thy  divine  face  not  alone 

East  griefs  but  West,  and  strike  and  shame  the  strong 

By  thunders  of  white  silence , overthrown. 

To  each  eye  and  heart  an  objebt  of  art  presents  a modified  aspebt ; and 
the  absence  of  passionate  abtion  in  sculpture,  gives  thereto  a kind  of  nega- 
tive inspiration,  to  be  shaped  by  individual  sympathies  and  imagination.  As 
we  look  upon  the  lovely  form  of  the  Greek  Slave,  until  admiration  melts 
into  sympathy,  instinctively  we  might  address  the  passive  yet  pleading 
marble,  thus  : — 

Do  no  human  pulses  quiver  in  those  wrists  that  bear  the  gyves, 

With  a noble,  sweet  endurance,  such  as  moulds  heroic  lives  ? 

Is  no  woman’s  heart  now  beating  in  that  bosom’s  patient  swell  ? 

Do  no  thoughts  of  love  or  glory  in  that  gaze  of  meekness  dwell  ? 

Some  pent  glow,  methinks,  diffuses  o’er  those  limbs  a grace  of  soul, 

Warm  with  Nature,  and  yet  chastened  by  a holy  self-control ; 

Teaching  how  the  loyal  spirit  ne’er  can  feel  an  outward  chain, 

While  its  truth  remains  unconquered,  and  the  will  asserts  her  reign. 

By  the  hand  that  grasps  the  column,  by  the  foot  so  calmly  prest, 

By  the  mien  sustained  though  vanquished,  and  the  soft,  relying  breast — 

Light  as  air  may  be  the  fetter  that  Earth’s  tyranny  doth  weave, 

And  her  slaves,  by  wisest  courage,  may  their  destiny  retrieve  ! 

By  the  pride  of  gentle  nurture,  unsubdued  by  freedom’s  loss. 

By  the  robe  so  deftly  woven,  by  the  locket  and  the  cross — 

Half  unconscious  of  thy  bondage,  on  the  wings  of  Faith  elate 
Thou  art  gifted  with  a being  high  above  thy  seeming  fate  ! 

What  to  thee  a herd  of  gazers  ? what  to  thee  a noisy  mart 
Rapt  in  tranquil,  fond  seclusion,  thou  art  musing  far  apart  : 

As  the  twilight  falls  around  thee,  and  thy  matchless  form  I scan, 

Rising  in  serene  abstraction,  though  it  wears  misfortune’s  ban  ; 

With  thy  dimpled  arm  depending,  and  thy  pure,  averted  brow, 

Earnest  words  I hear  thee  breathing  to  thy  distant  lover  now  ; — 

Words  of  triumph,  not  of  wailing,  for  the  cheer  of  Hope  is  thine, 

And,  immortal  in  thy  beauty,  sorrow  grows  with  thee  divine. 


The  next  work  of  Powers,  embodied  a more  exuberant  type  of  female 
beauty  in  an  ideal  bust  of  Proserpine — a most  gracious  head  and  bosom 
emerging  from  a bed  of  flowers  ; the  popularity  of  this  work  has  caused  its 
incessant  reproduction  ; — few  modern  works  of  the  chisel  are  more  exqui- 
sitely and  gracefully  ornamental  to  boudoir,  salon,  or  library.  Then  came 
a lithe,  graceful,  immature  figure  of  the  Fisher  Boy,  holding  a shell  to  his 
ear,  the  attitude,  the  expression,  the  -whole  air  and  aspebt  suggestive  of  the 
mystery  of  life  that  connebts  its  outset  with  eternity  ; as  we  muse  with  the 
absorbed,  unconscious,  and  beautiful  youth,  as  intent  he  listens  to  the  mur- 
muring shell, — we  seem  to  hear  the  sound  of 

that  immortal  sea 

That  brought  us  hither,  which  neither  man  nor  boy, 

Nor  all  that  is  at  enmity  with  joy, 

Can  utterly  abolish  or  destroy. 


Powers. 


287 


Even  at  the  period  of  his  first  arrival  in  Italy,  Powers  was  contemplating 
a favorite  subject — womanhood  in  its  mature  relations — a kind  of  Christian 
Niobe— an  ideal  Eve.  His  mind  then  was  occupied  with  the  idea  of  the 
mother  of  our  race  at  the  critical  moment  when  first  sorrow  and  remorse — 
or  rather  the  conviction  and  consciousness  of  pain,  error,  and  death,  as  a 
condition  of  human  life,  first  o’ershadowed  the  calm  and  joy  of  Eden. 
The  conception  as  it  existed  in  the  artist’s  thought,  struck  me  as  most 
promising  and  original : it  had  been  suggested  by  that  once  favorite  prose 
pastoral— The  Death  of  Abel,  by  Gesner  ; his  statue  was  to  represent  Eve 
when,  after  her  expulsion  from  Paradise,  the  sight  of  a dead  bird  revealed 
to  her  the  nature  of  death.  “ It  is  I!  it  is  I!  unhappy  creature  that  I am, 
who  have  brought  misery  and  grief  on  every  creature  ! For  my  sin,  these 
pretty,  harmless  animals  are  punished.”  Her  tears  redoubled.  “ What  an 
event ! How  stiff  and  cold  it  is  ! It  has  neither  voice  nor  motion  ; its 
joints  no  longer  bend  ; its  limbs  refuse  their  office.  Speak,  Adam,  is  this 
Death  ? ” Although  subsequent  reflection  modified  this  conception,  and 
made  it  more  generic  and  spiritually  suggestive,  the  essential  character  of 
the  Eve  of  Powers  is  that  he,  so  long  ago,  imagined  and  proposed  to  em- 
body ; that  is,  he  represents  the  mother  of  our  race  when  the  new-born 
sense  of  evil  and  wrong,  the  disturbance  of  that  moral  equilibrium  that 
held  her  soul  at  first  in  tranquil  self-poise  ; it  is  the  first  woman  in  the 
world  vaguely  sad  from  a consciousness  of  “ all  our  woe  ” ; it  is  Eve,  beau- 
tiful, loving,  grandly  maternal,  tender,  confiding,  but  tried  and  tempted. 
She  holds  the  apple,  hesitatingly  glancing  thereon  ; in  her  left  hand  is  a 
branch  of  the  forbidden  tree,  and  behind  her  at  the  base  of  a tree-stump, 
the  serpent  complacently  lifts  his  head  and  watches  : such  is  Eve  Tempted. 
Another,  Eve  Repentant,  stands  clasping  her  bosom  with  one  hand,  while 
the  other  indicates  the  retreating  serpent ; her  tall,  majestic  form,  her  lux- 
urious floating  hair,  her  lovely  face  remorsefully  turned  to  heaven — at  a 
glance  tell  with  silent  eloquence  the  story  of  penitence,  in  the  Christian  and 
highest  sense  thereof,  while  the  grand  proportions  of  the  form  are  full  of 
pathetic  dignity,  of  matronly  and  maternal  grace.  We  can  imagine  in 
examining  the  photograph  of  “ Eve  Disconsolate,”  her  breathing  in  tender 
soliloquy,  the  words  which  Mrs.  Browning  in  her  Drama  of  Exile,  makes 
her  Eve  utter — at  the  same  momentous  hour  : 


I,  at  last, 

Who  yesterday  was  helpmate  and  delight 
Unto  mine  Adam,  am  to-day  the  grief 
And  curse-mate  to  him  ! And,  so,  pity  us. 

Ye  gentle  Spirits  ! pardon  him  and  me, 

And  let  some  tender  peace,  made  of  our  pain, 

Grow  up  betwixt  us,  as  a tree  might  grow, 

With  boughs  on  both  sides.  In  the  shade  of  which, 
When  presently  ye  shall  behold  us  dead, — 

For  the  poor  sake  of  our  humility, 

Breathe  out  your  pardon  on  our  breathless  lips, 

And  drop  your  twilight  dews  against  our  brows, 
And,  shaking  with  mild  airs  our  harmless  hands 


288 


American  Artist  Life. 


Left  empty  of  all  fruit,  perceive  your  love 
Distilling  through  your  pity,  over  us, 

And  suffer  it,  self-reconciled,  to  pass. 

The  conventional  Eve  of  Art  and  Poetry  is  simply  beautiful ; woman- 
hood in  the  abstract  or  the  ideal  is  thus  named  ; Milton’s  portrait  is 
memorable  for  its  gracefulness  and  charms  ; but  to  these  Mrs.  Browning 
adds  an  ineffable  pathos  which  links  her  Eve  to  all  humanity. 

A more  severe  type  of  female  grace  and  grandeur  is  his  allegorical 
figure  of  America.  The  face,  though  kindled  with  aspiration,  is  marked  by 
self-control  and  concentration  ; it  is  uplifted,  as  if  in  recognition  of  super- 
nal aid  ; the  left  arm  is  significantly  raised  ; the  right  rests  on  a bundle 
of  fasces , overhung  with  laurel,  and  her  robe,  which  seems  unconsciously 
caught  in  her  hand  ; this  drapery  hangs  from  the  left  shoulder,  exposing 
the  noble  bust : it  is  lifted  somewhat  by  the  right  hand  from  the  advanced 
and  firm-set  left  leg,  which  tramples  on  fetters  : it  is  a statue  full  of  expression 
and  character — a grand  national  symbol  and  memorial,  which  has,  under 
existing  circumstances,  not  only  intrinsic  but  prophetic  eloquence. 
But  perhaps  Powers  has  most  effectually  embodied  the  characteristics  of 
his  native  land  in  his  statues  of  her  representative  men.  Those  of  Frank- 
lin and  Jefferson  are  grand  and  true  impersonations  ; both  modelled  from 
the  most  authentic  data,  and  in  the  costume  of  their  day.  Franklin  is 
leaning  thoughtfully,  his  chin  on  his  hand,  upon  the  trunk  of  a lightning- 
scathed  tree  ; time,  care,  and  reflection  mark  his  face,  which  is  full  of 
benign  sagacity:  Jefferson  is  represented  in  his  youth,  Franklin  in  his 
old  age  ; the  former  is  eager  with  thought,  full  of  graceful  alacrity  ; the 
latter,  solemn  and  serene,  but  deeply  thoughtful ; — the  two,  in  their  expres- 
sive individuality,  not  only  revive  the  features  and  form  of  their  originals, 
but  impressively  typify  and  illustrate  the  institutions  and  the  country  to 
which  the  lives  of  both  so  efficiently  ministered. 

“ His  ‘America,’  ” writes  a friend,  “ is  a blooming  maid  whose  liberty  and 
security  are  to  be  judged  from  the  finely-carved  expression  of  the  face  and 
the  position  of  the  body.  The  only  ornament  is  a diadem  of  thirteen  stars  ; 
the  left  hand  is  raised  in  sign  of  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Republic — 
which  is  alluded  to  by  the  fasces , on  which  the  right  foot  rests.” 

“ He  has,”  says  a vigilant  critic,  noting  the  gradual  progress  of  his  statue 
of  Franklin,  “widened  his  head,  giving  it  a more  comprehensive  char- 
acter ; with  the  cunning  face  of  the  old  bust  he  has  mingled  benevolent 
geniality.” 

Another  full-length  figure,  by  Powers,  is  the  statue  of  “ California” — a 
name  identified  with  gold  and  gold-seeking.  At  a brilliant  party  given  by 
its  owner,  this  work  was  the  nucleus  of  a gay  crowd  ; it  even  drew  atten- 
tion from  the  many  specimens  of  living  beauty  around/  and  the  exquisite 
flowers  and  toilettes  were  comparatively  negledted.  Evidently  the  sculp- 
tor’s idea  is  to  contrast  the  fascination  of  form  with  the  sinister  expression 
of  face, — the  thorn  concealed  in  the  left  hand  with  the  divining  rod  dis- 
played in  the  right, — and  thus  illustrate  the  deceitfulness  of  riches.  It  is  a 


Powers. 


289 


singular  coincidence  that  such  an  allegorical  statue  should  adorn  the  dwell- 
ing of  our  wealthiest  citizen  ; and  it  is  to  the  credit  of  his  liberality  that, 
when  a duplicate  was  desired  by  an  English  gentleman,  the  artist  having 
no  exclusive  right  to  the  conception,  free  permission  was  granted  him  to 
repeat  and  dispose  of  the  work.  The  contours  of  the  figure  are  very  beau- 
tiful, and  the  manipulation  exquisite  ; while  the  expression  of  the  face  is 
repulsive. 

A more  ethereal  creation  is  II  Penseroso  : the  attitude  is  striking,  orig- 
inal, and  graceful ; with  one  step  forward,  and  in  the  aCt  of  taking  the 
next,  her  train  sweeps  behind,  but  is  partially  gathered  up  in  her  hand  ; 
one  finger  on  her  lip,  her  eyes  raised,  and  full  of  thought  and  feeling  ; a 
kind  of  bodice  fits  closely  over  a chemisette  of  such  exquisite  delicacy  of 
finish  that  the  minutest  examination  only  brings  out  new  beauties.  If  she 
would  go  up  as  we  gaze,  it  would  hardly  create  surprise,  there  is  such  a 
transcendent  majesty  and  aerial  lightness.  The  bust  of  this  figure  is  impres- 
sively beautiful. 

Among  his  American  busts  those  of  Adams,  Van  Buren,  Everett,  and 
Calvert  are  remarkable  for  their  individuality  and  exquisite  finish  ; while 
to  the  American  series  are  to  be  added  many  English  and  continental  sub- 
jects. His  statue  of  Calhoun  sunk  with  the  ship  wrecked  on  Fire  Island, 
near  New  York,  whereby  the  lamented  Countess  Ossoli  perished  ; it  had 
been  so  adroitly  packed,  however,  that  when  rescued  from  the  sea,  the 
slight  injury  received  was  easily  corrected,  and  the  statue  set  up  in  Charles- 
ton, where  its  remarkable  features  recall  the  astute  but  perverted  mind 
of  the  treacherous  Senator.  It  is  a singular  coincidence  that  the  bust  of 
the  chief  envoy  of  the  Southern  traitors  may  also  be  seen  in  the  studio  of 
Powers  ; where  the  true  American  can  compare  the  shrewd  and  plausible 
natural  language  of  these  unscrupulous  partisans,  with  the  grand,  honest, 
wise  physiognomies  of  the  noble  fathers  and  defenders  of  the  Republic. 
Few  of  our  artists  are  more  staunchly  patriotic  than  Powers  ; he  under- 
stands and  interprets  his  country  with  zeal  and  insight ; his  American 
feeling  is  deep  and  pervasive — breaking  out  in  earnest  argument,  in  keen 
appreciation  of  native  talent  or  character,  and  enthusiastic  recognition  of 
the  flag,  the  principles,  and  the  destiny  of  the  land,  absence  from  which  has 
only  the  more  endeared.  Two  of  the  most  notorious  Secessionists  visit- 
ing his  studio  at  different  periods,  stopped  before  the  bust  of  John  C. 
Calhoun,  and  said  in  almost  the  same  words,  “There’s  John  C.  Calhoun — 
I’m  one  of  that  man’s  disciples.”  This  coincidence  is  somewhat  remark- 
able, and,  taken  in  connection  with  our  late  troubles,  has  a world  of  mean- 
ing. On  one  occasion  another  did  not  hesitate  to  acknowledge  his  connec- 
tion with  the  St.  Albans  raid,  and  other  nefarious  plots  to  plunder  and  burn 
our  frontier  ; and  not  only  that,  but  he  expressed  his  satisfaction,  and  even 
pride,  that  he  had  done  his  best  to  help  them  on.  When  Mr.  Powers  said 
to  him,  “ Sir,  I desire  you  to  know  that  I utterly  abhor  your  murderous 
plans,  and  detest  the  efforts  you  have  made  to  ruin  our  country,”  he  replied 
with  unabashed  coolness  and  effrontery : “ Oh  ! yes,  that’s  of  course  ; I 

19 


290 


American  Artist  Life. 


expected  as  much  as  that,”  and  walked  away  with  the  utmost  unconcern. 
“ Mr.  Powers’  patriotism,”  writes  a Florence  correspondent,  “is  so  extreme 
that  he  prefers  to  model  in  American  clay,  which  is  regularly  exported  for 
his  use.” 

His  “ Clytie,”  “ Ginevra”  from  Rogers’  Italy,  and  a graceful  Indian 
maiden,  one  of  his  recent  works,  called  “ The  Last  of  her  Tribe,”  are  among 
the  attractions  of  his  studio.  Of  the  first,  an  English  traveller,  Mr.  Weld, 
observes:  “We  found  him  working  on  an  extremely  beautiful  figure  of 
Clytie,  with  a sun-flower  on  her  forehead — emblematic  of  her  fate  in  con- 
sequence of  her  jealousy  of  Leucothea.  The  face  was  so  lovely  that  I felt 
curious  to  know  what  country  had  furnished  the  model.”  The  bust  of 
Ginevra,  the  artist’s  first  ideal  work,  belongs  to  Mr.  Longworth,  of  Cin- 
cinnati ; his  busts  of  Ceres  and  pne  of  Washington  are  at  Baltimore  ; that 
of  Webster  is  at  the  Boston  Athenaeum  ; a bust  of  Washington,  a Proser- 
pine, and  Fisher  Boy  are  in  the  possession  of  Sidney  Brooks,  Esq.,  of  New- 
port, R.  I. ; a bust  of  Edward  Everett  is  in  the  gallery  at  Chats  worth  ; 
W.  B.  Astor,  Esq.,  has  the  original  “ California  ; ” James  Lenox,  Esq.,  the 
“ Penseroso  ; ” A.  T.  Stewart,  the  original  “ Greek  Slave,”  all  of  New  York  ; 
W.  F.  Preston,  of  South  Carolina,  has  an  “ Eve.” 

Recent  letters  from  Florence  mention  that  the  admirable  portrait  bust  of 
Edward  Everett,  by  Powers,  has  been  obtained  from  that  artist  by  Story,  as 
the  likeness  wherefrom  to  construct  his  statue  ordered  by  the  late  orator’s 
friends  in  Boston.  It  is  said  the  correspondence  of  the  two  American 
sculptors  on  the  subjeCfc  has  been  in  the  highest  degree  cordial  and  mutu- 
ally appreciative.  This  is  honorable  to  both,  and  we  hail  it  with  the  greater 
satisfaction,  inasmuch  as  mischievous  and  narrow-minded  gossips  have  so 
long  sowed  the  seeds  of  dissension  between  our  native  sculptors  at  Rome 
and  Florence,  and  encouraged  an  absurd  rivalry  as  to  claims  and  genius 
where  there  is  no  legitimate  ground  of  invidious  comparison.  Each  of  our 
plastic  artists  has  special  merits  of  his  own,  each  has  fame  enough,  and 
when  such  a mutual  objeCt  as  the  commemoration  of  a national  benefaCtor 
presents  itself,  it  is  delightful  to  witness  such  genial  cooperation  and  mutual 
appreciation.  Story,  Powers,  Hart,  Meade,  Rogers,  Rhinehart,  Ives,  Ball, 
and  others,  are  making  our  country  known  and  honored  in  art.  It  is  a curi- 
ous faCt  that,  for  some  time  past,  Powers  has  been  almost  exclusively  em- 
ployed by  Russians  and  English  ; his  busts  are  prized  beyond  any  in  Eu- 
rope, and  he  receives  for  these  a thousand  dollars  each. 

A correspondent  writing  recently  from  Florence,  says  : 

“ Powers  has  just  finished  an  ideal  head  of  4 Jesus  Christ,’  which  is  great- 
ly admired  for  its  masterly  expression  of  heroic  resolve  and  fortitude,  com- 
bined with  rare  gentleness  and  love.  The  work  was  executed  for  W.  H. 
Aspinwall,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  The  artist  is  now  engaged  upon  ‘ Paradise 
Lost,’  a group  representing  Eve  and  the  Serpent  after  the  Fall.  He  is  also 
■engaged  on  ideals  of  ‘ Faith,’  ‘ Hope,’  and  4 Charity.’  His  model  of  a statue 
of  Edward  Everett  is  highly  appreciated  for  its  successful  characterization.” 
An  intimacy  of  some  years  between  the  late  Edward  Everett  and  Powers, 


Powers. 


291 


during  the  former’s  temporary  residence  in  Tuscany,  led  to  a warm  per- 
sonal friendship  between  the  orator  and  the  sculptor.  The  bust  of  Everett 
by  Powers,  which  now  adorns  the  sculpture  gallery  at  Chatsworth,  has  long 
been  deemed  the  masterpiece  of  modern  art  in  that  sphere,  of  the  grand 
collection  of  which  it  is  the  only  American  illustration.  Of  course  the  ori- 
ginal model  of  the  head  remains  in  the  artist’s  possession.  When  Powers 
heard  of  his  illustrious  friend’s  death,  he  sought  consolation  in  executing 
a full-length  statue  of  him — purely  as  a labor  of  love.  With  his  materials, 
recollections,  and  tender  regrets,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  that  he  was  successful 
in  producing  an  admirable  likeness  ; but  the  statue  is  far  more  than  this  ; 
it  is  an  effective,  individual,  and  exquisite  work  of  art — one  he  is  not  only 
working  at  with  a will,  but  unhampered  by  patronizing  criticism,  and  un- 
hurried by  impatient  orders.  My  special  objeCt,  however,  in  alluding  to 
this  interesting  work,  is  not  so  much  to  expatiate  on  its  intrinsic  merits,  as 
to  suggest  its  destination,  while  there  is  yet  an  opportunity.  Being,  as  we 
have  said,  a work  of  love  and  patriotism — designed  to  honor  the  country 
and  the  man,  and  not  to  enrich  the  artist — we  have  reason  to  believe  that 
Mr.  Powers  will  cheerfully  bestow  the  work  on  the  nation,  provided  it  can 
be  worthily  and  eligibly  conserved  and  exhibited.  His  first  idea  was  to 
place  it  at  Mount  Vernon,  in  memory  of  Mr.  Everett’s  eloquent  and  suc- 
cessful efforts  to  redeem  the  home  and  tomb  of  Washington  for  the  nation. 
There  however  it  would,  at  present,  be  seen  by  comparatively  few.  Per- 
haps the  most  appropriate  place  for  such  a memorial  would  be  the  proposed 
National  Statue  Gallery  in  the  old  Representatives’  Plall  in  the  Capitol  at 
Washington. 

A Western  man,  rather  a novice  in  European  travel,  once  visited  the 
studio  of  Powers,  and,  after  gazing  upon  its  array  of  busts  and  figures 
awhile,  inquired  the  price  of  a statue  which  caught  his  fancy  ; upon  being 
told  three  thousand  dollars,  he  gave  a long  whistle,  raised  his  eyebrows, 
buttoned  up  his  pockets,  and  strode  away  exclaiming,  u How  sculptor's  riz  /” 
Had  this  worthy  been  present  at  the  Merchants’  Exchange  in  New  York, 
a few  years  later,  he  would  have  found  additional  reason  for  thinking  that 
art  among  us  was  becoming  appreciated,  even  as  a marketable  interest ; 
under  the  dome  of  that  palace  of  Commerce,  “ the  hard-eyed  lender  and  the 
pale  lendee”  had  convened,  not  to  exchange  stock  certificates,  or  “ com- 
pare notes,”  but  to  attend  the  sale  of  a statue  ; great  was  the  interest,  en- 
thusiastic the  crowd,  unwonted  the  scene,  and  warm,  though  limited,  the 
competition  ; the  “ Greek  Slave,”  was  knocked  off  for  exadtly  double  the 
original  price.  An  amusing  incident  also  occurred  in  regard  to  the  “ Fisher 
Boy.”  A gentleman  who  set  a high  value  on  his  copy  of  this  graceful  work, 
before  embarking  for  Europe,  had  it  carefully  shrouded  in  cotton  and  de- 
posited in  a box.  A gang  of  juvenile  burglars  invaded  his  premises,  broke 
open  the  case,  thinking,  from  its  weight,  to  find  plate  within  ; but  when  the 
white  visage  of  the  marble  sleeper  caught  their  eyes,  by  the  dim  light  of  a 
lantern,  they  dropped  their  thieving  tools  and  incontinently  fled,  without  a 
particle  of  spoil. 


2 92 


American  Artist  Life. 


We  have  alluded  to  the  Swedenborgian  affinities  of  Powers  : it  having; 

o o 

been  proposed  in  London  to  erebt  a statue  of  the  distinguished  Swede, 
application  was  made  to  him,  and  he  wrote  the  following  reply,  which  is 
printed  in  the  London  Intellectual  Repository:  — 


“ Florence,  Aug.  io,  1865. 

“ Dr.  Spurgin  : — 

“My  Dear  Friend , — I have  been  much  gratified  by  your  kind  letter  of 
5th  inst.  Please  receive  my  thanks,  and  communicate  them  to  all  who 
have  taken  part  in  the  subject  of  your  communication.  It  is  well  to  be 
explicit  and  brief  in  business  matters,  and  I will  therefore  begin  with 
answers  to  your  inquiry. 

“ 1 st.  I shall  be  glad  to  execute  a statue  in  marble  or  bronze  of  our 
great  author,  Swedenborg  ; and  I have  nothing  at  present  engaged  to 
prevent  my  beginning  such  a work  within  two  or  three  months. 

“ 2d.  I am  not  rich,  and  therefore  should  be  glad  to  accept  all  the  pecu- 
niary aid  that  could  be  given  within  reasonable  limits — say  £ 1,200  ; which 
would  make  the  work  remunerative  in  the  degree  of  my  other  works.  But 
if  so  much  cannot  be  raised,  then  please  see  how  much  can  be  got,  and  let 
me  know.  I will  do  the  work  for  whatever  sum  can  be  raised ; and  if  more 
than  ^1,200  be  raised,  then  I will  make  the  statue  larger  than  life,  or  put 
additional  labor  upon  it.  I should  want  about  two  years’  time  for  it.  Do 
not  be  discouraged  if  the  sum  you  can  raise  should  be  small,  but  let  me 
know.  Of  course  I should  require  all  the  aid  (portraits,  etc.)  you  could 
give.  I do  not  know  the  nature  of  the  clause  (in  your  circular)  which 
refers  to  my  sentiments  in  regard  to  the  writings  of  Swedenborg,  and 
which  you  think  it  possible  I might  object  to.  I am  a ‘ New  Churchman,’ 
a ‘ Swedenborgian,’ — a 4 New  Jerusalemite,’  without  any  reservation  what- 
ever ; and  / wish  it  to  be  known.  I have  always  wished  this  to  be  known. 
And  if  the  circular  expresses  any  doubt  on  this  point,  then  indeed  I would 
object  to  it.  Swedenborg  is  my  author  ; all  other  writers  (in  comparison) 
seem  moving  in  the  dark  with  tapers  in  hand — groping  their  way — while 
lie  moves  in  the  broad  light  of  the  sun — God’s  own  sun.  I read  no  other 
author  than  Swedenborg,  nor  have  I for  many  years — unless  the  sermons 
of  New  Churchmen.  And  I am  happy  to  know  that  God  has  allowed  me 
to  be  instrumental  in  direbling  attention  to  our  Heavenly  Dobtrines. 
Therefore,  if  it  will  do  good,  publish  me  as  a New  Churchman. 

“ With  kindest  regards,  I am,  dear  sir, 

‘•Yours  sincerely, 

“ LIiram  Powers. 

“ P.S. — If  I have  been  so  very  explicit,  it  is  because  it  has  come  to  my 
knowledge  that  I have  been  misrepresented  in  London.” 

When  I first  met  Powers  abroad,  he  had  but  recently  arrived  at  Flor- 
ence, and  was  known  in  America  chiefly  through  several  busts  of  distin- 


Powers. 


293 


guished  men,  which  were  generally  thought  remarkably  authentic.  There 
were  in  his  appearance,  conversation,  and  works,  at  this  period,  the  clear- 
est indications  of  genius  ; but  they  were  not  of  that  impressive  and  fasci- 
nating: character  which  the  imagination  associates  with  such  an  idea.  No 
startling  wildness  of  temperament  or  eccentricity  of  habits,  no  delicate 
susceptibility  or  extravagant  opinions,  suggested  the  belief  that  our  subse- 
quently illustrious  countryman  possessed  rare  gifts.  His  eye  is  singularly 
large  and  eloquent,  and  his  head  decidedly  intellectual.  Beyond  these,  no 
outward  sign  gives  token  of  his  abilities.  But,  to  a refledtive  observer, 
there  are  more  genuine  signatures  of  innate  power  than  the  multitude 
recognize.  Without  any  winning  grace  of  deportment  or  brilliancy  of  dis- 
course, there  was  visible  in  Powers  a self-possession,  a freedom  from 
afifeCtation,  and  an  integrity  of  deportment  that  at  once  conveyed  the  feel- 
ing that  he  was  no  ordinary  man. 

Genius  is  a vague  term  ; but  in  reference  to  a man  like  this,  it  is  per- 
fectly intelligible.  His  force  lies  within  the  region  of  obvious  and  pal- 
pable results.  It  is  clear,  legible,  and  bold.  It  is  the  energy  of  a mind 
conscious  of  its  endowments,  not  overwhelmed  by  them.  To  no  mysterious 
world  of  dreams  does  he  look  for  revelations.  In  no  wondrous  realm  of 
imagination  are  his  images  created.  With  the  natural  world  around  us,  in 
its  simple  and  existent  beauty,  does  his  perception  deal.  Plis  special 
faculty  is,  first  of  all,  to  see  justly,  next  to  appreciate  wisely,  and  at  last  to 
embody  faithfully  the  elements  of  natural  beauty  which  God  has  freely 
scattered  over  the  earth.  The  eclectic  philosopher  accepts  the  fragments 
of  truth  he  finds  in  various  systems,  and  unites  them  into  a rational  whole. 
Powers  realizes  a similar  principle  in  art.  He  combines  and  harmonizes 
what  nature  has  distributed.  He  once  pointed  out  to  me,  on  the  plaster 
cast  of  a beautiful  child’s  face,  the  minutest  changes  which  death  had 
caused,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  expression  of  life  could  be  restored 
in  the  marble,  with  a minuteness  that  evinced  most  impressively  his  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  nature  as  existent  in  the  human  physiognomy. 
His  casual  remarks  on  the  works  of  art  in  the  public  galleries  were  equally 
significant. 

It  appeared  to  me  very  natural  that  he  should  read  scarcely  any  poet  but 
Burns,  and  be  an  admirer  of  Franklin.  Happily  there  is  no  painful  dis- 
crepancy between  the  conception  and  execution  of  Powers.  The  hand 
deftly  follows  the  eye,  and  the  eye  the  mind.  It  is  Nature  that  lends 
him  both  inspiration  and  material.  In  conversation,  I was  struck  with 
the  fabl  that  nearly  all  his  illustrations  were  drawn  from  physical  fact. 
He  compared,  for  instance,  the  movement  of  a bird’s  eye  he  was  describ- 
ing, to  the  vibration  of  the  second-hand  of  an  old-fashioned  clock  ; and 
the  appearance  of  an  organ  in  a cathedral,  to  that  of  a large  wasp’s  nest 
he  had  once  seen  in  a cave.  In  a word,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  vocation 
of  Powers,  ordained  by  his  organization  and  idiosyncrasies,  is  that  of  an 
interpreter  of  nature, — not  as  to  time,  or  condition,  or  history,  or  quality, — 
but  as  to  form.  This  he  fulfils  literally  in  his  busts.  His  genius  consists 


2 94 


American  Artist  Life. 


first  in  seizing  the  element,  and  next  in  harmoniously  blending  it  with  its 
kindred  ; thus,  as  it  were,  redeeming  the  fragmentary  and  perverted  shapes 
of  humanity  to  their  primeval  glory,  by  embodying  in  marble  the  type  of 
Nature  as  she  would  assert  herself,  if  freed  from  the  conventional  blights 
and  boundaries  of  custom  and  error.  Thus  the  genius  of  Powers  is 
singularly  healthful.  Some  lament  that  it  was  not  earlier  developed  ; we 
cannot  but  regard  this  as  one  of  the  best  evidences  of  its  reality.  There 
is  something  in  the  whole  career  of  this  remarkable  artist  which  strikes  us 
as  eminently  American.  His  powers  are  of  that  sustained  and  effective 
character  which  accords  with  the  spirit  of  our  country. 


PAGE. 


F all  American  portrait-painters  William  Page  is  the  most 
originally  experimental  : he  has  studied  his  art  in  theory 
as  well  as  practice  ; he  has  indulged  in  a wide  range  of 
speculation  as  regards  the  processes,  the  methods,  and  the 
principles  of  adepts  therein  : not  satisfied  with  admiring 
and  emulating  Titian  and  Paul  Veronese,  he  has  sought  to 
wrest  from  their  works  the  secret  of  that  magical  color  which  dazzles  and 
defies  the  modern  painter.  At  different  times  Page  has  painted  in  different 
ways — seeking  truth  by  experiment,  and  in  so  doing,  at  one  period,  achiev- 
ing a marvellous  success,  and,  at  another,  ending  with  a lamentable  failure. 
We  doubt  if  in  the  range  of  modern  art  there  can  be  found  from  the  same 
hand  so  great  a variety  of  triumphs  and  of  crudities  ; the  works  of  Page 
justify  the  highest  eulogiums  of  his  admirers,  and  the  severest  protests  of 
his  critics  ; of  his  remarkable  ability  there  is  no  doubt ; of  his  conservative 
and  consistent  progress  there  is  but  irregular  evidence.  He  seems  to  unite 
the  conservative  instindfs  of  an  old-world  artist  with  the  bold,  experimental 
ambition  of  our  Young  Republic  ; and  we  can  easily  imagine  such  a con- 
secration of  his  talents  to  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and  the  needs  of  aspirations 
of  the  hour,  as  would  make  him  as  popular  as  he  is  powerful.  None  of 
our  artists  can  so  philosophize  on  his  vocation  ; his  lectures  and  his  talk 
are  as  metaphysical  as  they  are  artistic  ; he  has  the  intuitions  and  the  ex- 
travagances of  genius.  His  mind  is  discursive  and  reflective  ; he  works 
with  a remarkable  intelligence,  and  over  some  relations  and  requirements  of 
his  art  has  a mastery  rarely  attained  ; but,  in  practice,  is  apt  to  push  theory 
too  far,  and  is  inclined  to  ignore  material  necessities  and  distindlions  ; 
his  best  pidtures,  as  well  as  his  worst,  are  impressive  ; and  all  leave  on  the 
mind  of  the  spedtator  a conviction  of  genius,  rendered  uncertain  by  perver- 
sity. I have  seen  a portrait  by  Page,  in  which  the  beard  and  eyes  were 
rendered  with  the  minuteness  of  Denner,  with  a reality  almost  painful  but  for 
its  marvellous  skill ; another,  where  costume,  attitude,  and  feature  had  such  a 
relievo  that  the  effedt  was  like  a refledtion  from  a looking-glass — no  modify- 
ing influence  of  light,  shade,  or  perception  subduing  the  palpable  presence  ; 
another,  with  the  face  corrugated  by  the  peeling  off  of  the  paint — a conse- 
quence of  laying  on  color  as  nature  does — first  red  muscle,  then  epidermis.  I 


296 


American  Artist  Life. 


have  seen  a “ Mother  and  Child,”  mellow,  sweet,  calm,  with  fine  chiaro- 
oscnro , masterly  in  treatment ; and  an  uEcce  Homo”  glaringand  unspiritual. 
One  can  find  in  Page  all  the  salient  elements  of  traditional  art — the  crude 
realism  which  Pre-Raphaelites  adore,  the  lucent,  vital,  mellow  tints  of  the 
Venetian  school,  the  homely  and  perfect  imitation  of  Flemish  still-life  ; 
what  he  can  or  could  do  in  his  prime,  challenges  admiration  ; what  he  may 
or  will  do,  is  an  unsolved  problem  ; and  yet  it  is  not  waywardness,  but  the 
love  of  experiment,  the  desire  to  advance,  to  realize  new  truths,  to  achieve 
fresh  triumphs,  that  leads  to  this  inequality.  No  American  and  few  modern 
artists  of  any  nation,  have  reached  a higher  point  than  Page  in  his  felicit- 
ous works  ; few  have  gained  such  distinction,  and  few  have  found  both 
fame  and  fortune  more  precarious. 

At  the  age  of  nine,  Page  removed  from  Albany,  N.  Y.,  where  he  was 
born,  January  23,  1811,  to  the  metropolis  of  his  native  State,  where  his 
family  established  themselves.  He  was  one  of  the  pupils  of  a genial  and 
fluent  gentleman,  long  known  as  a ready  and  humorous  speaker  on  public 
occasions,  under  the  familiar  and  popular  name  of  Joe  Hoxie,  whose  once 
famous  school  in  the  Bowery  is  the  scene  of  many  a juvenile  reminiscence 
among  the  old  Knickerbockers  ; and  it  is  a singular  coincidence  that  to 
another  well-known  and  favorite  citizen  of  the  old  Dutch  stock,  he  was 
indebted  for  the  first  direCt  introduction  to  his  legitimate  career;  for 
although,  when  eleven  years  old,  he  had  gained  a premium  from  the 
American  Institute  for  an  India-ink  drawing,  the  prejudice  against  art,  as 
an  unpropitious  vocation,  caused  his  natural  proclivity  therefor  to  be 
ignored  ; and  he  was  entered  at  the  office  of  Frederic  Depeyster,  to  learn 
the  theory  and  practice  of  the  law.  Even  when  his  kind  instructor,  con- 
vinced of  his  unfitness  for  technical  studies  and  his  aptitude  for  art,  intro- 
duced him  to  Colonel  Trumbull,  that  worthy  painter  and  patriot,  who  had 
struggled  so  long  with  public  indifference  and  capricious  fortune,  had  only 
words  of  discouragement  for  the  young  aspirant,  advising  him  to  cling  to 
law  as  a more  lucrative  and  honored  profession.  But  Page  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  acquire  the  practical  skill  requisite  for  a painter;  and  he 
found  a not  very  high,  but  still  an  initiative  scope  for  his  talents  as  an 
employe  of  Herring,  who,  at  that  time,  executed  numerous  orders  in  New 
York  for  portraits,  banners,  transparencies,  etc.  After  a year’s  desultory, 
but  not  unprofitable  work,  he  began  the  more  regular  study  of  art  in  the 
studio  of  Morse  ; and  entered  himself  a student  of  the  National  Academy, 
where  the  excellence  of  his  drawings  from  the  antique  gained  him  the 
silver  medal.  It  is  characteristic  of  the  latent  enthusiasm  and  thought- 
ful inquiry  of  his  nature,  that  when  about  seventeen  years  of  age,  the 
subjeCt  of  religion  completely  superseded  that  of  art  in  his  mind  and 
affeCtions.  So  vivid  were  his  first  impressions,  when  this  religious  expe- 
rience dawned  upon  him,  that  he  found  in  theology  a congenial  and 
comprehensive  sphere,  and  proposed  to  make  it  his  exclusive  pursuit. 
He  became  a member  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  went  to  Andover 
to  study  divinity.  Although  it  was  a youthful  impulse  which  he  thus 


suddenly  obeyed,  it  may  be  remarked  that  a vein  of  philosophy  and  a sen- 
timent of  reverence,  as  well  as  a habitual  interest  in  the  mysteries  of  life 
and  the  consolations  of  faith,  are  quite  as  prevalent  and  permanent  traits 
of  Page  as  his  love  and  capacity  for  art ; indeed,  he  recognizes  the  affinity 
of  the  latter  with  the  primal  instinCts  of  humanity,  and  the  aspirations  and 
destiny  of  man.  Of  late  years,  he  has  found  in  the  spiritual  creed  of 
Swedenborg,  congenial  aliment  and  inspiration  ; and  his  speculative  ten- 
dency, and  passion  for. truth  in  art,  carries  him  into  kindred  meditations 
upon  “foreknowledge,  will,  and  fate.”  It  did  not,  however,  require  many 
weeks  to  convince  the  enthusiast  that  Presbyterian  theology  was  not,  and 
could  never  be,  the  goal  of  his  mental  appetite,  or  the  exclusive  sphere  of 
his  usefulness  : won  back  to  his  first  love,  though  by  no  means  disloyal  to 
his  strong  religious  convictions,  Page  resumed  his  artist-life,  and  for  a 
year  found  ample  occupation  at  Albany  in  portrait-painting,  and  his  works 
were  recognized  as  equally  remarkable  for  “brilliancy  of  color  and  accu- 
racy of  drawing.”  An  ardently  cherished  projeCt  of  a visit  to  Europe  was 
indefinitely  postponed,  in  consequence  of  an  attachment  he  had  formed, 
and  which  led  to  his  marriage  before  attaining  his  majority,  and  his  estab- 
lishment in  New  York,  where  he  at  once  took  a high  position  in  por- 
traiture and  as  a colorist.  A full-length  likeness  of  Governor  Marcy, 
executed  for  the  New  York  City  Hall ; a portrait  of  J.  O.  Adams  ; a “ Holy 
Family,”  now  belonging  to  the  Boston  Athenaeum  ; “The  Wife’s  Last 
Visit  to  her  Condemned  Husband,”  and  the  “ Infancy  of  Henry  IV.,”  are 
among  the  works  which  drew  special  attention  to  the  genius  of  Page,  and 
established  his  early  reputation. 

His  domestic  life  was  unhappy,  recourse  was  had  to  a divorce,  and  form- 
ing a new  matrimonial  connection,  he  set  up  his  easel  in  Boston,  and  for 
some  time  enjoyed  the  intimate  association  of  a literary  and  artistic  circle 
eminently  adapted  to  his  tastes  and  sympathies.  Some  of  his  most  remark- 
able portraits  were  painted  at  this  period  ; and  he  was  soon  enabled  to 
carry  out  his  original  purpose,  and  embark  for  Europe.  For  many  years 
Page  was  the  leading  American  portrait-painter  in  Rome,  where  his 
success  in  emulating  the  excellencies  of  the  Venetian  school  was  marked 
and  memorable.  One  of  his  copies  of  Titian  was  stopped  by  the  authori- 
ties at  Florence  as  an  original.  It  is  characteristic  of  his  versatility,  that, 
after  much  study,  he  discovered  a new  and  most  artistically  as  well  as 
scientifically  suggestive  method  of  measuring  the  human  body.  His 
“Moses,”  “Ruth,”  and  “Venus,”  intensely  admired  by  some,  were  per- 
plexing art-problems  to  others  ; their  superiority  in  color  was  universally 
admitted,  their  individuality  of  conception  was  apparent ; but  between  the 
impression  of  grandeur  and  grotesqueness,  a wide  diversity  of  critical 
opinion  was  elicited — not,  however,  failing  to  recognize  emphatically  the 
ability,  however  the  wisdom  of  the  artist  was  questioned. 

Some  of  the  portraits  of  Page — where  the  subjeCt  is  favorable,  and  espe- 
cially if  congenial  to  the  painter — and  his  copies  from  Titian,  appeal  most 
distinctly  and  absolutely  to  our  admiration.  No  modern  portraits  excel, 


29S 


American  Artist  Life. 


and  few  equal,  his  of  Lowell,  Mrs.  Crawford,  Robert  Browning,  and  Char- 
lotte Cushman.  “ At  the  risk,”  said  a writer  in  the  London  Art  Journal, 
“ of  being  thought  guilty  of  exaggeration,  I declare,  after  visiting  his 
studio,  that  Page  is  the  best  portrait-painter  of  modern  times  ; he  has  the 
same  traits  as  Titian  and  Veronese.”  A few  years  ago,  after  his  return  to 
America,  Page  delivered  a course  of  leCtures  on  painting,  and  therein 
exhibited  a comprehensive  and  an  acute  study  of  the  means,  processes, 
and  principles  of  the  art  and  its  noblest  exemplars,  which  impressed  all 
who  heard  him  with  the  conviction  that  few  artists  of  our  day  have  so 
profoundly  sought  for  the  truth  and  the  science  of  piCtorial  art,  and  that 
his  merits  are  the  result  of  intense  and  independent  reflection  and  original 
experiment. 

There  is  a portrait  of  a lady' at  Rome,  by  Page,  full  of  tranquil  reality, 
harmonious,  deep,  lucent,  and  vital  in  color,  mature  in  tone  and  character, 
which  affects  the  mind  of  one  acquainted  with  the  original  in  a mysterious 
and  entrancing  way  ; it  is  as  if  we  saw  the  likeness  of  a progenitor  of  her 
we  know,  as  delineated  by  one  of  those  old  masters  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury— the  ancestral  parallel  and  type  of  the  living — so  difficult  is  it  to 
realize  that  this  portrait  was  executed  in  our  day,  and  by  an  American 
painter.  There  is  another  of  his  portraits  in  New  England — the  beard, 
complexion,  hair,  collar,  and  doublet  precisely  like  those  of  some  prince  or 
hero  of  mediaeval  times,  as  portrayed  by  Vandyke  or  Titian  ; — the  same 
relievo , strength  of  outline,  vital  force  and  individuality,  masterly  finish, 
and  mellow  and  vivid  tints.  While  we  wonder  at  and  enjoy  such  triumphs, 
we  instinctively  ask  if  the  Past  is  the  true  oracle  for  the  artist ; if  to  be 
great,  the  painter  must  be  retrospective  ; if  progress,  so  manifest  in  sci- 
ence and  society,  means  to  the  limner  earnest  recurrence  to  ancient 
exemplars,  absolute  reliance  on  methods  prevalent  three  centuries  ago  ? 
Long  since,  one  of  his  masterpieces  of  portraiture  was  engraved  by  Cheney, 
under  the  title  of  “ St.  Agnes  ; ” and  his  portrait  of  the  lamented  Col.  Shaw, 
is  wonderful  in  its  truth  of  expression,  feature,  and  character. 

At  Rome,  Page  enjoyed  the  companionship  of  Robert  and  Elizabeth 
Browning,  Crawford,  Story,  and  other  of  our  native  artists,  as  well  as  that 
of  the  many  visitors  of  culture  who  make  that  city  their  winter  home  ; his 
position  was  eminently  favorable  both  for  study  and  appreciation  ; and 
when,  in  1853,  he  visited  Venice,  it  must  have  been,  to  such  a painter,  like 
reaching  the  shrine  and  temple  of  his  art,  to  verify  his  convictions,  freshen 
his  love,  confirm  his  praCtice  and  insight,  where  Titian  lived  and  died,  and 
where  his  greatest  works  are  gathered.  “ The  laws  which  Titian  dis- 
covered have  been  unheeded  for  centuries,”  says  an  art-critic,  “ and  they 
might  have  remained  so,  had  not  the  mind  of  William  Page  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  their  revival  and  use.  To  him  there  could  be  no  chance-work.  Art 
must  have  laws  as  definite  and  immutable  as  those  of  science  ; indeed,  the 
body  in  which  the  spirit  of  art  is  developed,  and  through  which  it  aCts, 
must  be  science  itself.  He  saw  that,  if  exaCt  imitation  of  nature  be 
taken  as  the  law  in  painting,  there  must  inevitably  occur  the  difficulty,  that, 


Page. 


2 99 


above  a certain  point,  paint  no  longer  undergoes  transfiguration,  thereby 
losing  its  character  as  mere  coloring  material  ; — that,  if  the  ordinary  tone 
of  Nature  be  held  as  the  legitimate  key-note,  the  scope  of  the  palette 
would  be  exhausted  before  success  could  be  achieved.” 

There  is  a portrait  of  a child,  by  Page,  in  the  possession  of  Evert  A. 
Duyckinck,  not  less  remarkable  for  its  expressive  truth  as  a likeness,  than 
for  a solidity  and  tone,  so  rare  at  the  time,  that  it  was  the  gem  of  the  Exhibi- 
tion. Another  picture  of  his,  of  a different  kind,  but  equally  character- 
istic, called  the  “Young  Merchants,”  is  in  the  Carey  collection  at  Phila- 
delphia, Pa.  ; and,  among  his  recent  portraits,  are  those  of  Farragut,  in 
the  shrouds  of  his  flag-ship,  the  “ Hartford,”  and  Hiram  Barney,  Esq.  ; his 
Ruth  and  Naomi  belongs  to  the  N.  Y.  Historical  Society  ; his  portrait  of 
Governor  Marcy  is  in  the  City  Hall  ; his  “ Mother  and  Child,”  in  the 
Boston  Athenaeum  ; his  portrait  of  Col.  Shaw,  in  the  possession  of  Fran- 
cis G.  Shaw,  Esq.,  of  Staten  Island. 

That  we  have  not  over-estimated  the  peculiar  success,  or  the  transitions 
and  inequality  of  Page,  is  evident  from  the  testimony  of  one  who  himself 
excelled  in  another  art,  and  who  ardently  sympathized  with  and  intelligently 
appreciated  his  gifted  countryman  and  friend.  Of  Page’s  coloring,  Paul 
Akers  says  : “ Mr.  Page  adopts  a key  somewhat  lower  than  that  of 
nature,  as  a point  of  departure,  using  his  degrees  of  color  frugally,  espe- 
cially in  the  ascending  scale.  With  this  economy,  when  he  approaches 
the  luminous  effeCts  of  nature,  he  falls  just  where  any  other  palette  would 
be  exhausted,  upon  his  own,  a reserve  of  high  color.  With  this,  seeking  only 
a corresponding  effeCt  of  light  in  that  lower  tone  which  assumes  no  rivalry 
with  the  infinite  glory  of  nature,  he  attains  to  a representation  fully  suc- 
cessful.” 

After  the  most  emphatic  eulogy  of  his  portraits  and  Venetian  reproduc- 
tions, the  same  author  adds  : “ The  ‘Venus  ’ of  Page  we  cannot  accept — not 
because  it  may  be  unbeautiful,  for  that  might  be  but  a shortcoming,— not 
because  of  any  .technical  failure,  for,  with  the  exception  of  weakness 
in  the  character  of  waves,  nothing  can  be  finer, — not  because  it  lacks 
elevated  sentiment,  for  this  Venus  was  not  the  celestial, — but  because  it 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  present,  neither  is  it  of  the  past,  nor  related  in 
anywise  to  any  imaginable  future.”  On  the  other  hand,  the  “ Moses  ” fills 
the  sculptor’s  imagination,  and  elicits  his  earnest  admiration.  “We  feel,” 
he  declares,  “ that,  viewed  even  in  its  mere  external,  it  is  as  simple  and 
majestic  as  the  Hebrew  language.  The  far  sky,  with  its  pallid  moon, — 
the  deep,  shadowy  valley,  with  its  ghostly  warriors, — the  group  on  the  near 
mountain,  with  its  superb  youth,  its  venerable  age,  and  its  manhood  too 
strong  and  vital  for  the  destructive  years  ; — in  the  presence  of  such  a crea- 
tion there  is  time  for  a great  silence,” 


ELLIOT. 


F continuity  of  purpose,  a steady  and  progressive  habitude 
of  application,  absolute  loyalty  to  an  ideal  standard  of 
excellence,  could  be  justly  ascribed  to  Charles  Loring 
Elliot,  he  would  not  only  take  a permanently  high  rank  among 
American  portrait-painters,  but  his  fame  would  be  harmoni- 
ous and  individual ; whereas,  while  certain  traits  identify  his 
works,  they  are  as  unequal  in  artistic  merit  as  in  subject — according  to  the 
state  of  mind  and  nerves,  of  motive  and  care,  wherewith  they  have  been 
executed.  The  vigor  and  truth  of  his  best  likenesses — the  character  and 
the  color  which  distinguish  them,  are  such  as  win  for  him  among  the  judi- 
cious, the  respefit  and  interest  due  to  a master.  This  is  especially  true  of 
such  of  his  heads  as  represent  men  of  strong,  practical  natures,  who  have 
battled  with  life  and  the  elements,  who  have  thought  deeply,  struggled 
manfully,  or  achieved  success  through  firmness,  shrewdness,  and  self-reli- 
ance; and  whose  faces  bear  the  lines  of  this  warfare  and  achievement — all  the 
more  effective  under  the  artist’s  hand,  if  the  complexion  is  of  that  ruddy 
hue  which  Stuart  loved  to  delineate,  and  the  hair  profuse  and  whitened  by 
time.  For  Elliot  is  a man  of  will  rather  than  of  sensibility,  one  who  grasps 
keenly  his  subject,  rather  than  is  magnetized  thereby:  his  touch  is  bold  and 
free  ; he  seizes  the  genuine,  and  pierces  the  conventional ; he  has  a natural  and 
robust  feeling  for  color ; he  is  more  vigorous  than  delicate  ; and  it  would 
not  have  been  requisite  for  Cromwell,  had  he  sat  to  him,  to  say,  “ Paint  me 
as  I am.”  There  is  a manly  instinfit  which  leads  him  to  give  prominence 
to  the  essential  and  characteristic  ; and  the  more  of  a man  his  subject  is, 
in  intellect,  spirit,  feature,  and  expression,  the  more  satisfactory  will  be 
the  ‘counterfeit  presentment.’  Born  in  1812,  in  one  of  those  rural  towns 
in  the  interior  of  the  State  of  New  York,  which  are  deformed  by  incon- 
gruous classical  names,  probably  his  first  notion  of  art  was  derived  from 
his  father’s  profession,  who  united  to  agriculture  the  business  of  an 
architect — to  exercise  which  more  lucratively,  they  removed  from  Scipio 
to  Syracuse  ; where  the  son  was  placed,  like  so  many  of  our  embryo 
artists,  in  a store,  and,  like  them,  disliked  the  occupation,  and  sought  com- 
pensation in  dabbling  in  crayons  and  colors.  The  natural  tendency  of  his 
mind  was  so  obvious,  that  his  father,  at  last,  consented  to  the  relinquish- 
ment of  the  mercantile  experiment,  but  only  in  the  hope  of  making  his  son 
an  architect.  The  plan  so  little  suited  Elliot,  the  younger,  that  we  soon  find 
him  in  the  city  of  New  York,  a pupil  of  Trumbull  ; then  he  worked  with 


Elliot. 


301 


and  for  a fancy  painter  named  Quidor  ; he  copied  prints  in  oil,  and  won 
favorable  notice  by  two  illustrations  of  Irving  and  Paulding,  but  met  with 
little  success  in  his  first  attempts  at  portraiture.  He  had,  however,  mas- 
tered many  of  the  technialities  of  his  art ; and,  thus  equipped,  returned  to 
his  native  region,  and,  for  several  years,  was  more  or  less  busy  in  the 
western  parts  of  the  State,  as  a portrait  painter.  This  field  of  practice  de- 
veloped his  powers  and  gained  him  an  adequate,  through  precarious  sub- 
sistence. His  experiences,  like  those  of  so  many  of  his  profession, 
abound  in  naive  glimpses  of  character  in  those  comparatively  isolated  com- 
munities ; independent  in  feeling,  with  a genuine  sense  of  humor  and  a 
marked  originality,  he  was  often  an  object  of  interest  to  his  sitters,  and 
indulged  in  the  freaks  of  the  wandering  artist.  It  is  related  of  him,  that, 
at  a subsequent  period,  when  known  to  fame,  he  was  engaged  upon  the 
portrait  of  an  eminent  ecclesiastic.  That  worthy  gentleman,  full  of  admira- 
tion for  his  talents,  and  of  regret  that  they  were  not  exercised  with  more 
wisdom,  determined  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  painter,  win  his  con- 
fidence, and  then  frankly  criticise  and  counsel.  Somewhat  in  awe  of  his 
protege,  he  nervously  postponed  the  lebture  until  towards  the  last  of  their 
interviews  ; and  then,  with  what  he  believed  to  be  consummate  tabl,  gave  a 
personal  turn  to  his  remarks,  began  by  expressing  sympathy,  gradually 
hinted  at  faults,  and  at  last,  with  a vigilant  eye  on  his  companion,  ventured 
upon  appeals  and  remonstrance.  All  this  time  Elliot  worked  away  upon 
the  likeness,  giving  no  sign  of  annoyance  ; and  taking  courage,  his  rever- 
end and  venerable  sitter  wound  up  his  discourse  with  a severe  admo- 
nition, not  without  a secret  dread  of  the  artist’s  anger.  He  paused  for 
a reply,  doubtful  whether  he  had  provoked  an  enemy  or  won  a convert  ; 
and  confessed  afterwards  that  he  never  felt  so  utterly  insignificant,  as 
when  the  artist,  with  the  urbane  but  positive  authority  of  his  profession, 
merely  said — “ Turn  your  head  a little  to  the  right,  and  shut  your  mouth” 
A similar  anecdote  is  related  of  Jarvis,  and  may  not  be  original  ; but  se 
71071  e vero , e be7i  trovato. 

There  is  usually  on  Elliot’s  easel  a strong,  richly-colored  head  in  the 
process  of  completion : how  true  the  lines,  how  effective  the  relief  and 
contour,  and  with  what  nature  the  white  hair  rests  upon  the  florid  temple  ! 
There  is  not  such  a vigorous  pencil  among  our  limners  ; when  an  old  man 
whose  face  is  ploughed  with  the  thought  and  cares  of  an  adventurous  life, 
and  yet  alive  with  the  latent  fires  and  marked  with  the  strong  will  of  robust 
maturity,  sits  to  Elliot,  the  portrait  becomes  not  only  a noble  likeness,  but 
a grand  study  of  charabler  and  of  color. 

He  has  lately  finished  an  excellent  portrait  of  Church,  and  judging  by 
the  vigor  and  vitality  it  displays,  the  work  must  have  been  a labor  of  love 
to  the  artist.  It  is  like  all  his  best  portraits,  remarkable  for  a certain 
manly  simplicity  ; the  head  and  expression  are  full  of  charabler  ; the 
likeness  is  excellent ; the  effebl  lifelike.  “ There  is  nothing  in  this  Acad- 
emy,” said  a judicious  critic  a few  years  since,  u to  compare  with  Elliot’s 
portrait  of  Fletcher  Harper,  for  grasp  of  subtle  individualities  and  sugges- 


302 


American  Artist  Life. 


tion  of  the  nature  through  the  face.  The  nearest  approach  to  that  splendid 
picture’s  unique  excellence  is  a rough  sketch  of  T.  B.  Thorpe — taken  at 
one  sitting — so  vital,  forceful,  and  full  of  the  genial  subjeCt,  that  one  half 
puts  out  his  hand  on  seeing  it.” 

Elliot’s  ability  was  too  marked  to  be  long  confined  to  a provincial 
sphere;  and  he  returned,  in  his  prime,  to  the  city  of  New  York,  where  he 
has  since  chiefly  been  established  as  a portrait-painter,  with  frequent 
intervals  of  professional  journeys  ; and  his  present  residence  is  Albany, 
N.  Y.  He  has  executed  likenesses  of  many  eminent  men — statesmen, 
military  celebrities,  clergymen,  and  authors — nearly  all  of  which  are  pro- 
nounced by  competent  judges  as  remarkable  for  “fidelity  of  likeness  and 
vigorous  coloring.”  His  head  of  Halleck  gives  us  better  than  any  other, 
the  eloquent  eye  and  characteristic  mouth  of  that  favorite  poet ; his  full- 
lengths  of  American  officials,  of  which  he  has  painted  several,  are  full  of 
character  ; examine  any  one  of  them,  if  familiar  with  the  original,  and  a 
masterly  superiority  will  be  apparent.  It  is  a vigorous  portrait,  very  true, 
not  only  to  the  features,  but  the  natural  language  of  the  subjeCt.  It  gives 
us  not  only  the  form,  but  the  very  air  of  the  man.  How  much  better  posed 
is  the  figure  than  the  average  of  full-lengths  in  the  City  Hall ! Elliott  is 
no  experimental  limner;  he  has  a strong,  true  touch,  an  admirable  sense 
of  color.  Often  his  portrait  is  the  man  himself,  and,  at  the  same  time,  a per- 
fect illustration  of  American  life — with  hat,  coat,  and  cane — firm  on  his  feet, 
confident,  and  going  somewhere — the  epitome  of  a progressive,  locomotive 
race,  born  for  office  and  action.  A very  clever  specimen  of  this  artist’s 
success  in  fancy  portraiture,  of  which  we  do  not  remember  another  exam- 
ple, is  the  little  picture  of  Falstaff.  What  an  incarnation  of  jolly  epicu- 
rism ! how  complacently  his  hand  rests  on  the  distented  paunch,  as  if 
indicating  the  seat  of  the  soul ; what  animal  delight  in  the  eye,  what 
thorough  sensual  philosophy  In  the  whole  expression  ! The  coloring,  too, 
is  in  Elliot’s  best  manner. 

Among  the  full-lengths,  Elliot  has  painted  those  of  Henry  F.  Bacon,  of 
St.  Louis  ; Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  Colt,  of  Hartford,  and  W.  W.  Corcoran, 
of  Washington,  D.  C.  He  has  executed  nearly  seven  hundred  portraits; 
among  them  those  of  Sanford  Thayer  of  Syracuse;  Captain  John  Erics- 
son of  London  ; J.  W.  Hammersley,  Captain  Delano,  L.  Gaylord  Clark, 
Joseph  Curtis,  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt,  F.  S.  Cozzens,  of  New  York ; 
General  Wadsworth  of  Geneva ; J.  T.  Brady,  Dr.  Carnochan,  W.  T. 
Walters,  G.  W.  Riggs  of  Washington,  and  Henry  Burden  of  Troy. 
Elliot’s  portrait  of  Fletcher  Harper  is  justly  considered  by  his  brother 
artists  and  the  best  critics,  as  a masterpiece.  In  this  instance,  the  char- 
acter of  the  expression  and  the  complexion  were  precisely  such  as  the 
artist  was  able  perfectly  to  seize,  and  the  Committee  who  selected 
American  pictures  to  be  sent  to  the  Paris  Exposition,  unanimously  chose 
it  as  a typical  and  clever  American  portrait.  His  portraits  of  Governors 
Bouck,  Hunt,  and  Seymour,  and  of  Mayors  Harper  and  Kingsland,  are  in 
the  New  York  City  Hall  ; in  the  State  Library,  at  Albany,  are  his  portraits 


Elliot. 


303 


4 


of  Washington  Hunt  and  Erastus  Corning  ; that  of  Charles  Bradenburgh 
belongs  to  the  Mercantile  Library  Association  of  Baltimore  ; those  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs  Seymour  are  in  the  possession  of  the  family,  at  Utica,  N.  Y.  ; 
his  portraits  of  Col.  McKinney  and  of  Bryant  belong  to  Mr.  McGuire,  of 
Washington,  D.  C.  Among  other  of  his  memorable  portraits,  we  can 
only  mention  Cooper,  the  novelist  ; Church  and  Durand,  the  artists  ; ex- 
Governor  Morgan,  of  New  York  ; the  late  Colonel  Colt,  of  Hartford,  Conn. ; 
W.  T.  Walters,  Escp,  of  Baltimore,  Md. ; and  a cabinet  portrait  of  himself, 
which  brought  eight  hundred  dollars  at  the  Avery  sale. 

The  labors  of  this  artist  in  the  rural  districts,  at  the  outset,  and  his  com- 
paratively small  remuneration  therefor ; his  large  commissions  from  muni- 
cipal authorities,  at  the  height  of  his  fame,  and  the  fact  that,  when  the  War 
for  the  Union  suddenly  enriched  so  many  speculators,  he  set  up  his  easel 
in  William  street,  and  dashed  off  upon  canvas,  at  high  prices,  the  cotton- 
merchants  who  sat  to  him,  in  the  hurried  intervals  of  their  restless  specu- 
lations, are  all  characteristic  of  the  country  and  the  times,  in  their  relation 
to  the  pursuit  of  art.  Nor  is  the  education  of  Elliot  less  characteristic  of 
artist-life  in  America,  the  spirit  in  which  its  difficulties  are  surmounted, 
and  the  happy  accidents  that  favor  its  true  votaries.  I cannot  better  give 
the  most  auspicious  incident  of  Elliot’s  early  experience,  than  as  it  was 
related  to  me  by  an  art-loving  friend,  when  his  guest  in  the  delightful 
rural  vicinage  of  the  painter’s  native  home. 

Waiting,  in  the  little  front  parlor  of  a house  in  the  town  of  C , to  trans- 

act some  business  with  its  occupant,  he  was  attracted  by  a clever  sketch 
in  oil  that  hung  above  the  fireplace.  It  might  have  escaped  notice  else- 
where, but  traces  of  real  skill  in  Art  were  too  uncommon  in  this  region  to 
be  disregarded  by  any  lover  of  her  fruits.  The  readiness  to  seize  upon  any 
casual  source  of  interest,  common  with  those  who  “ stand  and  wait  ” in  a 
place  where  they  are  strangers,  doubtless  had  something  to  do  with  the 
careful  attention  he  bestowed  upon  this  produdtion.  It  was  a very  modest 
attempt, — a bit  of  a landscape,  with  two  horses  grazing  and  a man  at  work 
in  the  foreground.  Quiet  in  tone,  and  half-concealed  by  the  shaded  case- 
ment, it  was  only  by  degrees,  and  to  ward  off  the  ennui  of  a listless  half- 
hour,  that  he  gradually  became  absorbed  in  its  examination.  There  were 
some  masterly  lines,  clever  arrangement,  a true  feeling,  and  a peculiar 
delicacy  of  treatment,  that  implied  the  hand  of  a trained  artist. 

This  pleasant  communion  with  the  unknown  was  at  last  interrupted  by 
the  entrance  of  the  tardy  man-of-business,  but  the  instant  their  affair  was 
transacted  my  friend  inquired  about  the  sketch.  It  proved  to  be  the  work  of  a 
young  Englishman  then  residing  in  the  neighborhood.  He  obtained  his 
address,  and  sought  his  dwelling.  The  artist  was  scraping  an  old  pallette 
as  he  entered,  and  advanced  with  it  in  one  hand,  while  he  saluted  him  with 
the  air  of  a gentleman  and  the  simplicity  of  an  honest  man.  He  wore 
a linen  blouse,  his  collar  was  open,  his  hair  long  and  dark,  his  complexion 
pale,  his  eye  thoughtful,  and  a settled  expression  of  sweetness  and  candor 
about  the  mouth  made  his  visitor  feel  at  a glance  that  he  had  rightly  inter- 


304 


American  Artist  Life. 


preted  the  sketch.  He  mentioned  it  as  an  apology  for  his  intrusion,  and 
added,  that  a natural  fondness  for  Art,  and  rare  opportunities  for  grati- 
fying the  taste,  induced  him  to  improve  occasions  like  this  with  alacrity. 
The  artist  seemed  delighted  to  welcome  such  a visitor,  as  his  life  for  sev- 
eral weeks  had  been  quite  isolated.  The  retirement  and  agreeable  scenery 
of  this  inland  town  harmonized  with  his  feelings  ; he  was  unambitious, 
happy  in  his  domestic  relations,  and  had  managed,  from  time  to  time,  to 
execute  a portrait  or  dispose  of  a sketch,  and  thus  subsist  in  comfort  ; so 
that  an  accidental  and  temporary  visit  to  this  secluded  region  had  uncon- 
sciously lengthened  into  a whole  summer’s  residence, — parti}"  to  be  ab- 
scribed  to  the  kindness  and  easy  terms  of  his  good  old  host,  a thrifty  farmer, 
whose  wife,  having  no  children  of  her  own,  doted  upon  the  painter’s  boy, 
and  grieved  at  the  mention  of  th-eir  departure.  “ I doubt,”  said  my  friend, 
“ if  he  would  have  had  the  enterprise  to  migrate  at  all,  but  for  my  urgency; 
but  I soon  discovered  that,  with  the  improvidence  of  his  tribe,  he  had  laid 
nothing  by,  and  that  he  stood  in  need  of  medical  advice,  and,  after  a long- 
conversation,  upon  my  engaging  to  secure  him  an  economical  home  and 
plenty  of  work  in  Utica,  he  promised  to  remove  thither  in  a month  : and 
then,  becoming  more  cheerful,  he  exhibited,  one  by  one,  the  trophies  of  art 
in  his  possession.” 

Among  them  were  a Moreland  and  a Gainsborough,  some  fine  engravings 
after  Reynolds,  prints,  cartoons,  and  crayon  heads  by  famous  artists,  and 
two  or  three  Hogarth  proof-impressions  ; but  the  treasure  which  riveted 
my  friend’s  gaze,  was  a masterly  head  of  such  vigorous  outline  and  effective 
tints,  that  he  immediately  recognized  the  strong,  free,  bold  handling  of 
Gilbert  Stuart.  u That  was  given  to  me,”  said  the  gratified  painter, il  by  the 
son  of  an  Edinburgh  physician,  who,  when  a young  practitioner,  had  the 
good  fortune  to  call  one  day  upon  Stuart  when  he  was  suffering  from  the 
effeCts  of  a fall.  He  had  been  thrown  from  a vehicle,  and  had  broken  his 
arm,  which  was  so  unskilfully  set  that  it  became  inflamed  and  swollen,  and 
the  clumsy  surgeon  talked  of  amputation.  Imagine  the  feelings  of  such  an 
artist  at  the  idea  of  losing  his  right  arm  ! The  doctor’s  visit  was  not 
professional,  but  seeing  the  despondent  mood  of  the  invalid  painter,  he  could 
not  refrain,  the  offer  of  service.  It  was  accepted,  and  proved  successful, 
and  the  patient’s  gratitude  was  unbounded.  As  the  doclor  refused  pecu- 
niary compensation,  Stuart  insisted  upon  painting  a likeness  of  his  bene- 
factor ; and  as  he  worked  under  no  common  impulse,  the  result  as  you  see 
was  a masterpiece.” 

A few  weeks  after  this  pleasant  interview,  my  friend  had  established  his 
protegd  at  Utica,  and  obtained  him  several  commissions.  But  his  medical 
attendant  pronounced  his  disease  incurable  ; he  lingered  a few  months, 
conversing  to  the  last,  during  the  intervals  of  pain  and  feebleness,  with  a 
resignation  and  intelligence  quite  endearing.  When  he  died,  my  friend 
advised  his  widow  to  preserve  as  long  as  possible  the  valuable  collection 
"'he  had  left,  and  with  it  she  repaired  to  one  of  her  kindred  in  affluent  cir- 
cumstances, living  fifty  miles  away.  She  endeavored  to  force  upon  his 
acceptance  one  at  least  of  her  husband’s  cherished  pictures  ; but,  knowing 


Elliot. 


305 

her  poverty,  he  declined,  only  stipulating  that  if  ever  she  parted  with  the 
Stuart,  he  should  have  the  privilege  of  taking  it  at  her  own  price. 

A year  passed,  and  he  was  informed  that  many  of  her  best  pictures  had 
become  the  property  of  her  relative,  who,  however,  knew  not  how  to  appre- 
ciate them.  He  commissioned  an  acquaintance  to  purchase,  at  any  cost,  the 
one  he  craved,  when  it  was  discovered  that  a native  artist,  who  had  been 
employed  to  delineate  the  family,  had  obtained  this  work  in  payment,  and 
had  it  carefully  enshrined  in  his  studio  in  Syracuse.  This  was  Charles 
Elliot  ; and  the  possession  of  so  excellent  an  original  by  one  of  the  best 
of  our  artists  in  this  department,  explains  his  subsequent  triumphs  in  por- 
traiture. He  made  a study  of  his  trophy  ; it  inspired  his  pencil ; from  its 
contemplation  he  caught  the  secret  of  color,  the  breadth  and  strength  of 
execution  which  have  since  placed  him  among  the  first  American  portrait- 
painters,  especially  for  old  and  characteristic  heads.  Thus,  in  the  centre  of 
Western  New  York,  he  found  his  Academy,  his  Royal  College,  his  Gallery 
and  life-school,  in  one  adequate  effort  of  Stuart’s  masterly  hand  ; the  offering 
of  gratitude  became  the  model  and  the  impulse  whereby  a farmer’s  son  on 
the  banks  of  the  Mohawk  rose  to  the  highest  skill  and  eminence.  But  this 
was  a gradual  process  ; and  meantime  it  is  easy  to  imagine  what  a treasure 
the  picture  became  in  his  estimation.  It  was  only  by  degrees  that  his  merit 
gained  upon  public  regard.  His  first  visit  to  New  York  was  a failure  ; and 
after  waiting  many  weeks  in  vain  for  a sitter,  he  was  obliged  to  pay  his 
indulgent  landlord  with  a note  of  hand,  and  return  to  the  more  economical 
latitude  of  Syracuse.  There  he  learned  that  a wealthy  trader,  desirous  of 
the  eclat  of  a connoisseur,  was  resolved  to  possess  the  cherished  portrait. 
Although  poor,  he  was  resolved  never  to  part  with  it ; but  the  sagacious 
son  of  Mammon  was  too  keen  for  him.  Discovering  his  indebtedness,  he 
bought  the  artist’s  note  of  the  innkeeper,  and  levied  an  execution  upon  his 
effeCts.  But  genius  is  often  more  than  a match  for  worldly  wisdom.  Elliot 
soon  heard  of  the  plot,  and  determined  to  defeat  it.  He  worked  hard  and 
secretly,  until  he  had  made  so  good  a copy  that  the  most  practised  eye  alone 
could  detect  the  counterfeit;  and  then,  concealing  the  original  at  his  lodg- 
ings, he  quietly  awaited  the  legal  attachment.  It  was  duly  levied,  the  sale 
took  place,  and  the  would-be  amateur  bought  the  familiar  picture  hanging 
in  its  accustomed  position,  and  then  boasted  in  the  market-place  of  the  suc- 
cess of  his  base  scheme.  Ere  long  one  of  Elliot’s  friends  revealed  the 
clever  trick.  The  enraged  purchaser  commenced  a suit,  and  although 
the  painter  eventually  retained  the  picture,  the  case  was  carried  to  the 
Supreme  Court,  and  he  was  condemned  to  pay  costs.  Ten  years  elapsed. 
The  artist  became  an  acknowledged  master,  and  prosperity  followed  his 
labors.  No  one  can  mistake  the  rich  tints  and  vigorous  expression,  the 
character  and  color,  which  distinguish  Elliot’s  portraits  ; but  few  imagine 
how  much  he  is  indebted  to  the  long  possession  and  study  of  so  invaluable 
an  original,  for  these  traits,  moulded  by  his  genius  into  so  many  admirable 
representations  of  the  loved,  the  venerable,  and  the  honored,  both  living 
and  dead. 


20 


CRAWFORD. 


HERE  is  no  phase  of  modern  life  so  legitimate  in  its  enjoy- 
ment and  so  pleasing  to  contemplate  as  the  life  of  the  true 
artist.  Endowed  with  a faculty  and  inspired  by  a love  for 
creative  beauty,  work  is  to  him  at  once  a high  vocation  and 
a generous  instinbt.  Imagine  the  peace  and  the  progress 
of  those  years  at  Rome,  when  Crawford  toiled  day  after  day 
in  his  studio, — at  first  without  encouragement  and  for  bread,  then  in  a more 
confident  spirit  and  with  more  definite  triumph,  and  at  last  crowned  with 
domestic  happiness  and  artistic  renown, — his  mind  filled  with  ideal  tasks 
more  and  more  grand  in  their  scope,  and  the  coming  years  devoted  in  pros- 
pebt  to  the  realization  of  his  noblest  aspirations.  From  early  morning  to 
twilight,  with  rare  and  brief  interruptions,  he  thus  designed,  modelled, 
chiselled,  superintended,  every  day  adding  something  permanent  to  his 
trophies.  This  self-consecration  was  entire,  and  in  his  view  indispensable. 
Few  and  simple  were  the  recreative  interludes  : a reunion  of  brother-artists 
or  fellow-countrymen  and  their  families, — an  occasional  journey,  almost  in- 
variably with  a professional  intent, — a summer  holiday  or  a winter  festival ; 
but,  methodical  in  pastime  as  in  work,  his  family  and  his  books  were  his 
cherished  resources.  Often  so  weary  at  night  that  he  returned  home  only 
to  recline  on  a couch,  caress  his  children,  or  refresh  his  mind  with  some 
agreeable  volume  provided  by  his  vigilant  companion, — the  best  energies 
of  his  mind  and  the  freshest  hours  of  life  were  absolutely  given  to  Art. 
This  is  the  great  lesson  of  his  career  : not  by  spasmodic  effort,  or  dalliance 
with  moods,  or  fiftul  resolution,  did  he  accomplish  so  much  ; but  by  earnest- 
ness of  purpose,  consistency  of  aim,  heroic  decision  of  character.  There 
is  nothing  less  vague,  less  casual  in  human  experience,  than  true  artist-life. 
Rome  is  the  shrine  of  many  a dreamer,  the  haunt  of  countless  inefficient  en- 
thusiasts. But  there,  as  elsewhere,  will  must  intensify  thought,  abtion  con- 
trol imagination,  or  both  are  fruitless.  Those  melancholy  ruins,  those 
grand  temples  of  religion,  the  immortal  forms  and  hues  that  glorify  palace 
and  chapel,  square,  mausoleum,  and  Vatican,  the  dreamy  murmur  of  foun- 
tains, the  aroma  of  violets  and  pine-trees,  the  pensive  relics  of  imperial 
sway,  the  sublime  desolation  of  the  Campagna,  the  mystery  of  Nature  and 
Art,  where  both  are  hallowed  by  time,  the  social  zest  of  an  original  brother- 
hood like  the  artists,  the  freedom  and  loveliness,  the  ravishment  of  spring, 


Crawford. 


30/ 


and  the  soft  radiance  of  sunset,  all  that  there  captivates  soul  and  sense, 
must  be  resisted  as  well  as  enjoyed  ; —self-control,  self-respedt,  self-dedi- 
cation are  as  needful  as  susceptibility,  or  these  peerless  local  charms  will 
only  enchant  to  betray  the  artist.  Crawford  carried  to  Rome  the  ardor  of 
an  Irish  temperament  and  the  vigor  of  an  American  character.  Hundreds 
have  passed  through  a like  ordeal  of  privation,  ungenial  because  conven- 
tional work,  and  slow  approach  to  the  goal  of  recognized  power  and  re- 
munerated sacrifice  ; but  few  have  emerged  from  the  shadow  to  the  sun- 
shine by  such  manly  steps  and  patient,  cheerful  trust.  It  was  not  the 
voice  of  complaint  that  first  attracted  towards  him  intelligent  sympathy, — 
it  was  brave  achievement ; and  from  the  day  when  a remittance  from  Bos- 
ton enabled  him  to  put  his  Orpheus  in  marble,  to  the  day  when,  attended 
by  his  devoted  sister,  he  paid  the  last  visit  to  his  crowded  studio,  and 
looked,  with  quivering  eyelids,  but  firm  heart,  on  the  silent  but  eloquent 
offspring  of  his  brain  and  hand,  the  Artist  in  him  was  coincident  with  the 
Man, — clear,  unswerving,  productive,  the  sphere  extending,  the  significance 
multiplying,  and  the  mastery  becoming  more  and  more  complete  through 
resolute  practice,  vivid  intuition,  and  candid  search  for  truth. 

Thomas  Crawford  was  born  in  New  York,  March  22,  1813,  and  died  in 
London,  October  16,  1857.  Llis  lineage,  school  education,  and  early  facili- 
ties indicate  no  remarkable  means  or  motive  for  artistic  development ; they 
were  such  as  belong  to  the  average  position  of  the  American  citizen  ; 
although  a bit  of  romance,  which  highly  amused  the  young  sculptor,  was 
the  visit  of  a noble  Irish  lady  to  his  studio,  who  ardently  demonstrated 
their  common  descent  from  an  ancient  house.  At  first,  contented  to  experi- 
ment as  a juvenile  draughtsman,  to  gaze  into  the  windows  of  print-shops, 
to  colleCt  what  he  could  obtain  in  the  shape  of  casts,  to  carve  flowers, 
leaves,  and  monumental  designs  in  the  marble-yard  of  Launitz, — then 
adventuring  in  wood-sculptures  and  portraits,  until  the  encouragement  of 
Thorwaldsen,  the  nude  models  of  the  French  Academy  at  Rome,  and 
copies  from  the  Demosthenes  and  other  antiques  in  the  Vatican,  disciplined 
his  eye  and  touch, — thus  by  a healthful,  rigorous  process  attaining  the 
manual  skill  and  the  mature  judgment  which  equipped  him  to  venture 
wisely  in  the  realm  of  original  conception, — there  was  a thoroughness  and 
a progressive  application  in  his  whole  initiatory  course,  prophetic,  to  those 
versed  in  the  history  of  Art,  of  the  ultimate  and  secure  success  so  legiti- 
mately earned. 

If  Rome  yields  the  choicest  test,  in  modern  times,  of  individual  endow- 
ment in  sculpture,  by  virtue  of  her  unequalled  treasures  and  seleCt  profi- 
cients in  Art, — Munich  affords  the  second  ordeal  in  Europe,  because  of 
the  cultivated  taste  and  superior  foundries  for  which  that  capital  is 
renowned  ; and  it  is  remarkable  that  both  the  great  statues  there  cast  from 
Crawford’s  models  by  Muller,  inspired  those  impromptu  festivals  which 
give  expression  to  German  enthusiasm.  The  advent  of  the  Beethoven 
statue  was  celebrated  by  the  adequate  performance,  under  the  auspices  of 
both  court  and  artists,  of  that  peerless  composer’s  grandest  music.  When, 


American  Artist  Life. 


;o8 

on  the  evening  of  his  arrival,  Crawford  went  to  see,  for  the  first  time,  his 
Washington  in  bronze,  he  was  surprised  at  the  dusky  precindts  of  the  vast 
arena  ; suddenly  torches  flashed  illumination  on  the  magnificent  horse 
and  rider,  and  simultaneously  burst  forth  from  a hundred  voices  a song 
of  triumph  and  jubilee : thus  the  delighted  Germans  congratulated  their 
gifted  brother,  and  hailed  the  sublime  work, — to  them  typical  at  once  of 
American  freedom,  patriotism,  and  genius.  The  king  warmly  recognized 
the  original  merits  and  consummate  effect  of  the  work  ; the  artists  would 
suffer  no  inferior  hands  to  pack  and  despatch  it  to  the  sea-side  ; peasants 
greeted  its  triumphal  progress ; — the  people  of  Richmond  were  emulous  to 
share  the  task  of  conveying  it  from  the  quay  to  the  Capitol  hill ; mute 
admiration,  followed  by  ecstatic  cheers,  hailed  its  unveiling,  and  the  most 
gracious  native  eloquence  inaugurated  its  eredtion. 

Descriptions  of  works  of  Art,  especially  of  statues,  are  proverbially 
unsatisfactory  ; only  a vague  idea  can  be  given  in  words,  to  the  unprofes- 
sional reader  ; otherwise  we  might  dwell  upon  the  eager,  intent  attitude 
of  Orpheus  as  he  seems  to  glide  by  the  dozing  Cerberus,  shading  his  eyes 
as  they  peer  into  the  mysterious  labyrinth  he  is  about  to  enter  in  search 
of  his  ravished  bride  ; — we  might  expatiate  on  the  graceful,  dignified  aspebfc 
of  Beethoven,  the  concentration  of  his  thoughtful  brow,  and  the  loving 
serenity  of  his  expression, — a kind  of  embodied  musical  self-absorption, 
yet  an  accurate  portrait  of  the  man  in  his  inspired  mood  ; so  might  he 
have  stood  when  gathering  into  his  serene  consciousness  the  pastoral 
melodies  of  Nature,  on  a summer  evening,  to  be  incorporated  into  immor- 
tal combinations  of  harmonious  sound  ; — we  might  descant  upon  the  union 
of  majesty  and  spirit  in  the  figure  of  Washington,  and  the  vital  truth  of 
action  in  the  horse,  the  air  of  command  and  of  redtitude,  the  martial  vigor 
and  grace,  so  instantly  felt  by  the  popular  heart,  and  so  critically  praised 
by  the  adept  in  statuary  cognizant  of  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome  and 
the  impression  to  be  absolutely  evolved  from  such  a work,  in  order  to  make 
it  at  once  true  to  nature  and  to  character  ; — we  might  repeat  the  declara- 
tion, that  no  figure,  ancient  or  modern,  so  entirely  illustrates  the  classic 
definition  of  oratory,  as  consisting  in  action,  as  the  statue  of  Patrick  Hen- 
ry, which  seems  instinct  with  that  memorable  utterance,  “ Give  me  liberty 
or  give  me  death  ! ” 

“ I heard  it  stated  by  gentlemen,”  writes  James,  the  novelist,  “that  the 
moment  chosen  for  the  depidtion  of  Washington,  was  at  the  battle  of  Mon- 
mouth, or  at  half  a dozen  other  battles.  But  it  seemed  to  me  that  such  an 
idea  was  all  a mistake.  1 cannot,  of  course,  enter  into  the  mind  of  the 
great  artist,  now,  alas  ! gone,  and  say  what  was  in  his  thoughts  ; but  I do 
not  believe  Crawford  intended  to  represent  any  particular  moment  or  any 
particular  event  in  Washington’s  life.  It  was  only  Washington — Wash- 
ington embalmed  in  memories,  such  as  leave  behind  all  spices  of  the 
Egyptian  tomb — the  love  of  his  countrymen,  the  gratitude  of  ages,  the 
admiration  of  a world — Washington  leading  on,  not  so  much  to  victory  and 
fame,  as  to  duty  and  liberty.” 


Crawford. 


309 


Crawford  studied  the  animal  he  proposed  to  portray  with  singular  zeal ; 
Franconi  exercised  a noble  horse  privately  for  his  benefit,  especially  bring- 
ing him  into  the  very  relation  with  his  rider  the  sculptor  desired  to  realize. 
In  this  work,  the  first  merit  is  naturalness  ; although  full  of  equine  ardor, 
the  graceful  and  noble  animal  is  evidently  subdued  by  his  rider  ; calm 
power  is  obvious  in  the  man-restrained  eagerness  in  the  horse  ; Wash- 
ington’s left  hand  is  on  the  snaffle  bridle,  which  is  drawn  back  ; he  sits 
with  perfect  ease  and  dignity,  the  head  and  face  a little  turned  to  the  left, 
as  if  his  attention  had  just  been  called  in  that  direction,  either  in  expect- 
ancy, or  to  give  an  order  ; he  points  forward  and  a little  upwards  ; the 
figure  is  ereCt,  the  chest  thrown  forward,  the  knees  pressed  to  the  saddle, 
the  heel  nearly  beneath  the  shoulder,  and  the  sole  of  the  foot  almost  hori- 
zontal. The  seat  is  a military  and  not  a hunting  seat ; the  horse  is  recog- 
nized by  one  acquainted  with  breeds,  as  a charger  of  Arab  blood.* 

During  Crawford’s  last  visit  to  America,  I accompanied  him  to  examine 
a portrait  of  Washington  by  Wright.  It  boasts  no  elegance  of  arrangement 
or  refinement  of  execution  ; at  a glance  it  was  evident  that  the  artist  had 
but  a limited  sense  of  beauty,  and  lacked  imagination  ; but,  on  the  other 
hand,  possessed  what,  for  a sculptor’s  objedt, — namely,  fadts  of  form  and 
feature, — is  more  important, — conscience.  Crawford  declared  this  was  the 
only  portrait  of  Washington  which  literally  represented  his  costume  ; hav- 
ing recently  examined  the  uniform,  sword,  etc.,  he  was  enabled  to  identify 
the  strands  of  the  epaulette,  the  number  of  buttons,  and  even  the  peculiar 
, seal  and  watch-key.  A man  so  faithful  to  details,  so  devoted  to  authenticity, 
Crawford  argued,  was  reliable  in  more  essential  tilings.  He  remarked, 
that  one  of  his  own  greatest  difficulties  in  the  equestrian  statue  had  been  to 
reconcile  the  shortness  of  the  neck  in  Stuart’s  portrait  and  Houdon’s  statue 
(the  body  of  which  was  not  taken  from  life)  with  the  stature  of  Washington, — 
there  being  an  anatomical  incongruity  therein.  “ I had  determined,”  he 
continued,  u to  follow  what  the  laws  of  nature  and  all  precedent  indicate 
as  the  right  proportion, — otherwise  it  would  be  impossible  to  make  a grace- 
ful and  impressive  statue  ; but  in  this  picture,  bearing  such  remarkable 
evidence  of  authenticity,  I find  the  correct  distance  between  chin  and 
breast.” 

By  a singular  and  affedting  coincidence  the  news  of  Crawford’s  death 
reached  the  United  States  simultaneously  with  the  arrival  of  the  ship  con- 
taining the  colossal  bronze  statue  of  Washington — his  crowning  achieve- 
ment ; and  how  many  impressive  associations  cluster  around  that  monm 
ment — now  associated,  as  it  is,  with  the  central  seat  of  a sanguinary  re- 
bellion— the  scene  of  shameful  and  unparalleled  sufferings  inflidted  on 
Union  prisoners  of  war — the  objedt  of  a prolonged  and  bloody  siege — the 
nucleus  of  Treason,  whose  fall  sealed  the  fate  of  a vast  and  base  conspiracy, 
and  signalized  the  death  of  Slavery ; while,  through  ail  these  bloody  and 
bitter  vicissitudes — the  noble  form  of  our  peerless  chief  looked  forth  from 


* Character  and  Portraits  of  Washington,  p.  82. 


3io 


American  Artist  Life. 


the  Capitol  hill  of  his  native  State,  in  silent  majesty,  until  once  more  the  flag 
of  his  country  and  of  our  rescued  nationality  waved  in  peace  and  triumph  ! 

No  American  subjeCt  has  been  treated  in  marble  with  such  profound 
local  significance  as  the  “ Indian  Chief,” — a statue  by  Crawford,  now  most 
appropriately  occupying  the  entrance-hall  of  the  New  York  Historical  So- 
ciety ; and  no  more  judicious  compliment  to  the  artist’s  fame  can  be  imag- 
ined than  the  English  sculptor  Gibson’s  proposal,  at  the  meeting  of  artists 
at  Rome  called  to  pay  a last  tribute  to  Crawford’s  memory,  that  this  sta-tue 
should  be  cast  in  bronze,  and  set  up  as  a permanent  memorial  of  his  na- 
tional fame  in  one  of  the  squares  of  the  Eternal  City.  The  attitude,  air,  and 
expression,  the  gcand  proportions,  the  aboriginal  type  of  form  and  feature, 
the  bowed  head,  the  clenched  hand,  the  stoical  despair  of  this  majestic 
figure,  adequately  and  eloquently  symbolize  the  destruction  of  a Race,  and 
marks  the  advent  of  civilization  on  this  continent. 

Crawford’s  statue  of  ‘‘James  Otis,”  now  in  the  Chapel  of  Mount  Auburn, 
has  the  legitimate  yet  rare  merit  of  expressing  to  the  life,  its  illustrious 
subject.  James  Otis  possessed  the  threefold  character  of  patriot,  scholar, 
and  gentleman.  Crawford  has  reproduced  them  all  in  this  marble  persona- 
tion. The  very  air  of  the  figure  claims  what  Burns  calls  “ the  glorious 
privilege  of  being  independent.”  It  is  pre-eminently  the  statue  of  a free- 
man ; the  nobility  of  nature  and  the  refinement  of  culture  are  stamped  on 
every  line  and  feature  ; his  commanding  posture,  the  open,  intelligent,  ear- 
nest countenance,  the  dignified  bearing,  the  urbane  firmness  of  a man  who 
understands  as  well  as  maintains  the  truth  he  asserts — all  breathe  from  his 
majestic  form  and  the  glowing  features.  The  costume,  as  managed  by  the 
artist,  while  historically  correCt,  is  gracefully  effective,  both  in  its  general 
significance  and  in  its  elegant  details  ; it  also  marks  the  epoch,  as  the  scroll 
inscribed  “ Writs  of  Assistance,”  grasped  in  one  of  the  hands,  indicates  the 
moment  chosen. 

Another  characteristic  work  by  this  artist  is  thus  described  by  a Wash- 
ington correspondent  during  the  late  War  for  the  Union  : 

“ The  great  Washington  door  for  the  new  Capitol  at  Washington  is 
being  finished  at  the  Ames  works  in  Chicopee,  where  two  entire  years  have 
been  spent  upon  it.  Many  of  the  panels  are  already  completed,  and  the 
work  is  progressing  as  first  as  its  peculiar  complexity  will  allow.  Designed 
by  the  lamented  Crawford,  just  previous  to  his  death,  it  was  his  chef- 
d'oeuvre.  Had  he  survived,  undoubtedly  the  contraCt  for  casting  would 
have  gone  to  Munich,  like  its  predecessor,  the  Columbus  historic  door, 
such  was  his  prejudice  against  his  country  in  this  respeCt.  The  massive 
door  has  eight  panels,  four  or  a side,  emblematic  respectively  of  peace  and 
war.  On  the  side  devoted  to  peace,  commencing  at  the  bottom,  is  a group 
of  Washington  and  his  family,  representing  the  peaceful  condition  of  the 
country  at  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  struggle.  Next  above  is  the  ovation 
at  Trenton — then  a scene  representing  the  administration  of  the  oath  of 
office — and  crowning  this  seCtion  is  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  the 
Capitol  building.  The  war  side  has  first  a panel  symbolizing  the  stern 


Crawford. 


3*i 

ideal  of  deadly  strife — a British  Grenadier,  fully  armed,  attacking  a peaceful 
farmer  near  a rude  log  cabin,  whose  sinewy  arm  has  already  sent  him  reel- 
ing to  the  ground,  while  the  stalwart  yeoman’s  wife  is  seen  handing  her 
husband  his  trusty  firelock,  in  case  he  should  need  it.  Above  this  is  the 
Bayonet  Charge  at  Trenton — -then  the  Rebuke  of  General  Lee  by  Wash- 
ington, at  Monmouth — and  finally  the  Death  of  General  Warren.  The 
panel  representing  the  reprimand  of  General  Lee  is  a most  striking  and 
lifelike  scene.  Washington  had  always,  it  seems,  suspeCted  Lee  of  dis- 
loyalty, and  on  this  occasion  found  that  he  had  not  only  failed  utterly  to 
carry  out  his  express  orders,  but  had  actually  ordered  and  commenced  a 
most  cowardly  retreat.  Washington  is  seen  as  having  ridden  rapidly  to 
where  he  meets  Lee  under  a tree,  and  rising  in  the  stirrups  of  his  saddle, 
administers  a rebuke  that  droops  the  traitor’s  head  as  much  as  Lee’s  mili- 
tary salute  to  his  chieftain  has  his  sword.  It  is  said  that  this  was  the  only 
instance  in  which  Washington  was  ever  known  to  use  language  even  bor- 
dering on  profanity.  The  singular  thing  about  this  particular  panel  is,  that 
Jeff.  Davis  was  one  of  the  Commissioners  to  examine  Crawford’s  designs 
for  this  historic  and  conspicuous  piece  of  work  for  the  new  Capitol — 
the  wonder  being  that  he,  or  any  other  Southern  man,  should  have  con- 
sented to  emblazon  this  withering  shame  on  one  of  the  most  chivalric 
sons  of  the  South.  Yet  so  it  is — and  let  the  sympathizers  with  his  fitting 
representative,  in  the  person  of  Robert  E.  Lee,  remember  the  prophecy  of 
the  panel,  and  its  historic  verification  to-day.” 

The  dignity,  spirit,  and  grace  of  Crawford’s  colossal  model  of  Liberty 
have  been  generally  recognized. 

An  interesting  correspondence  in  reference  to  this  statue  on  the  dome 
of  the  Capitol,  not  long  since  came  to  light  through  the  instrumentality 
of  Mr.  Rice,  chairman  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Building  and  Lands. 
Mr.  Rice  and  other  members  of  the  committee  were  dissatisfied  with  the 
helmet  which  crowns  the  statue,  and  a letter  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Walter, 
the  architect  of  the  Capitol  extension,  asking  him  if  it  were  possible  to 
displace  the  helmet  and  return  to  Mr.  Crawford’s  original  design.  Mr. 
Walter  is  opposed  to  any  attempt  at  improvement  now  that  the  statue  is 
fixed  in  its  place  and  Mr.  Crawford  is  dead.  He  submits  a correspondence 
between  Captain  Meigs  and  Mr.  Crawford  and  Jefferson  Davis,  then  Sec- 
retary of  State,  which  is  extremely  interesting.  There  are  letters,  however, 
which  do  not  appear  in  this  correspondence,  and  which  undoubtedly  have 
been  lost.  In  those  letters  Mr.  Davis  objeCted  to  the  liberty  cap  as  a part  of 
the  crest  of  the  statue.  In  June,  1855,  Mr.  Crawford  remitted  his  first  design. 
He  says  : “ I have  endeavored  to  represent  Freedom  triumphant  in  peace 
and  war  ; the  wreath  on  her  head  has  a double  signification  and  allusion  to 
this- — one-half  of  it  being  composed  of  wheat  sprigs,  the  other  half  of  laurel.” 

In  OCtober  of  the  same  year  Mr.  Crawford  modified  his  first  design, 
after  having  seen  Mr.  Walter’s  plans  for  the  architecture  of  the  Capitol.  In 
Mr.  Crawford’s  letter  to  Captain  Meigs,  during  this  month,  occurs  the  sub- 
joined singular  passage  : — 


312 


American  Artist  Life. 


44  It  is  quite  possible  that  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis  may,  as  upon  a former 
occasion,  objeCt  to  the  cap  of  Liberty  and  the  fasces.  I can  only  say  in 
reply  that  the  work  is  for  the  people,  and  they  must  be  addressed  in  lan- 
guage they  understand,  and  which  has  become  unalterable  for  the  masses. 

“ The  emblems  I allude  to  can  never  be  replaced  by  any  invention  of  the 
artist  ; all  that  can  be  done  is  to  add  to  them,  as  I have  done,  by  placing 
the  circlet  of  stars  around  the  cap  of  liberty  : it  thus  becomes  more  pictur- 
esque, and  nothing  of  its  generally  understood  signification  is  lost.  I 
might,  did  time  permit,  enter  upon  a lengthy  argument  to  show  how  sculp- 
ture is  limited  in  the  use  of  accessories,  and  that  those  only  of  the  simplest 
and  most  intelligible  character  can  be  admitted,  particularly  in  works 
destined  for  the  instruction  and  gratification  of  the  public.  All  arguments, 
however,  must  reduce  themselves  into  the  question  : 4 Will  the  people 
understand  it  ? ’ I,  therefore,  hope  the  Secretary  will  allow  the  emblems  to 
4 pass  muster.’ 

44  I have  said  the  statue  represents  4 armed  Liberty.’  She  rests  upon  the 
shield  of  our  country,  the  triumph  of  which  is  made  apparent  by  the  wreath 
held  in  the  same  hand  which  grasps  the  shield  ; in  her  right  hand  she  holds 
the  sheathed  sword,  to  show  the  fight  is  over  for  the  present,  but  ready  for 
use  whenever  required.  The  stars  upon  her  brow  indicate  her  heavenly 
origin  ; her  position  upon  the  globe  represents  her  protection  of  the 
American  world — the  justice  of  whose  cause  is  made  apparent  by  the 
emblems  supporting  it.” 

Here  is  Jefferson  Davis’s  letter  to  Captain  Meigs  entire: — 


War  Department,  Washington,  January  15,  1856. 

44  Sir : — The  second  photograph  of  the  statue  with  which  it  is  proposed 
to  crown  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  impresses  me  most  favorably.  Its  gen- 
eral grace  and  power,  striking  at  first  view,  has  grown  on  me  as  I studied 
its  details. 

44  As  to  the  cap,  I can  only  say,  without  intending  to  press  the  objection 
formerly  made,  that  it  seems  to  me  that  its  history  renders  it  inappropriate 
to  a people  who  were  born  free,  and  would  not  be  enslaved. 

44  The  language  of  art,  like  all  living  tongues,  is  subjeCt  to  change  ; thus 
the  bundle  of  rods,  if  no  longer  employed  to  suggest  the  functions  of  the 
Roman  liCtor,  may  lose  the  symbolic  character  derived  therefrom,  and  be 
confined  to  the  rough  signification  drawn  from  its  other  source,  the  fable 
teaching;  the  instructive  lesson  that  in  union  there  is  strength.  But  the 
liberty  cap  has  an  established  origin  in  its  use  as  the  badge  of  the  freed 
slave,  and  though  it  should  have  another  emblematic  meaning  to-day,  a 
recurrence  to  that  origin  may  give  to  it  in  the  future  the  same  popular 
acceptation  which  it  had  in  the  past. 

44  Why  should  not  armed  Liberty  wear  a helmet  ? Her  conflict  being 
aver,  her  cause  triumphant,  as  shown  by  the  other  emblems  of  the  statue, 
the  visor  would  be  up,  so  as  to  permit,  as  in  the  photograph,  the  display 
of  a circle  of  stars — expressive  of  endless  existence  and  of  heavenly  birth 


Crawford. 


313 


“With  these  remarks  I leave  the  matter  to  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Craw- 
ford ; and  I need  hardly  say  to  you,  who  know  my  very  high  appreciation 
of  him,  that  I certainly  would  not  venture,  on  any  question  of  art,  to  array 
my  opinions  against  his. 

“Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

Jefferson  Davis,  Secretary  of  War.” 

Under  date  of  March  18,  1856,  Mr.  Crawford  writes  : — 

“ I read  with  much  pleasure  the  letter  of  the  honorable  Secretary,  and 
his  remarks  have  induced  me  to  dispense  with  the  1 cap  ’ and  put  in  its 
place  a helmet , the  crest  of  which  is  composed  of  an  eagle’s  head  and  a 
bold  arrangement  of  feathers,  suggested  by  the  costume  of  our  Indian 
tribes.” 

“The  dissatisfaction  with  this  Jeff.  Davis  helmet  and  crest  of  feathers,” 
says  a Washington  correspondent  under  date  of  May,  1861,  “is  almost 
universal  here,  and  it  is  believed  that  in  the  course  of  a few  years  Congress 
will  return  to  the  ‘ liberty  cap  ’ in  the  original  design  of  Mr.  Crawford.” 

Crawford’s  “Beethoven  ” is  in  the  Music  Hall  of  Boston;  his  statue  of 
James  Otis,  in  the  Chapel  of  Mount  Auburn  ; his  “ Indian,”  in  the  possession 
of  the  N.  Y.  Historical  Society.  The  Boston  Athenaeum  owns  his  “ Orpheus,” 
“ Adam  and  Eve  after  the  Expulsion,”  a “ Shepherdess,”  and  a bust  of  Josiah 
Ouincy  ; his  “ Children  in  the  Wood”  belongs  to  Hon.  Hamilton  Fish,  of 
New  York;  his  “Boy  Playing  Marbles,”  to  Hon.  Stephen  Salisbury,  of 
Worcester,  Mass. ; his  bridal  bust  of  his  wife,  and  several  busts  of  Wash- 
ington, to  the  estate  of  the  late  John  Ward,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  Wash- 
ington, D.  C.,  and  Richmond,  Va.,  are  adorned  with  his  most  elaborate 
monumental  works  ; while  his  Pandora,  Dancing  Jenny — for  which  his 
daughter,  now  deceased,  was  the  model — Cupid,  Genius  of  Mirth,  Flora, 
Schoolmaster,  Schoolboy,  Merchant,  Soldier,  Woodman,  Indian  Hunter, 
Indian  Woman,  Hebe  and  Ganymede,  Mercury  and  Psyche,  Daughter  of 
Herodias,  Aurora,  Peri,  etc.,  are,  as  original  or  replicas,  widely  distributed 
No  less  than  twenty-two  bas-reliefs  were  executed  by  Crawford  from 
classic,  Scriptural,  and  other  subjects.  Mr.  Haight  presented  his  statue 
of  Flora  to  the  N.  Y.  Central  Park ; and  the  Commissioners  thereof  have 
no  less  than  eighty-seven  plaster  casts  of  his  works,  presented  by  Louisa 
W.  Crawford. 

The  inventive  felicity  of  the  design  for  one  of  the  pediments  of  the 
Capitol  might  be  unfolded  as  a vivid  historic  poem  : and  it  requires  no 
imagination  to  show  that  Jefferson  looks  the  author  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  The  union  of  original  expression  and  skill  in  statuary  and 
of  ingenious  constructiveness  in  monumental  designs,  which  Crawford 
exhibited,  may  be  regarded  as  a peculiar  excellence  and  a rare  distinction. 

Facility  of  execution  and  prolific  invention  were  the  essential  traits  of 
Crawford’s  genius.  For  some  years  his  studio  was  one  of  the  shrines 
of  travellers  at  Rome,  because  of  the  number  and  variety  as  well  as  excel- 
}ence  of  its  trophies.  The  idea  has  been  suggested,  and  it  is  one  we  hope 


314 


American  Artist  Life. 


to  see  realized,  that  this  complete  series  of  casts  should  be  permanently 
conserved  in  such  a temple  as  Copenhagen  reared  to  the  memory  of  her 
great  sculptor.*  It  was  on  account  of  this  facility  and  fecundity  that  Craw- 
ford advocated  plaster  as  an  occasional  substitute  for  bronze  and  marble, 
where  elaborate  compositions  were  proposed.  He  felt  capable  of  achiev- 
ing so  much,  his  mind  teemed  with  so  many  panoramic  and  single  concep- 
tions— historical,  allegorical,  ideal,  and  illustrative  of  standard  literature  or 
classical  fable — that  only  time  and  expense  presented  obstacles  to  unlim- 
ited invention.  Perhaps  no  one  can  conceive  this  peculiar  creativeness  of 
his  fancy  and  aptitude  of  hand,  who  has  not  had  occasion  to  talk  with 
Crawford  of  some  projected  monument  or  statue.  No  sooner  was  he  pos- 
sessed of  the  idea  to  be  embodied,  the  person  or  occasion  to  be  commemo- 
rated, than  he  instantly  conceived  a plan  and  drew  a model,  invariably 
possessing  some  felicitous  thought  or  significant  arrangement.  His  sketch- 
book was  quite  as  suggestive  of  genius  as  his  studio.  The  “ Sketch  of  a 
Statue  to  crown  the  Dome  of  the  United  States  Capitol  ” — a photograph 
of  which  is  before  me  as  I write,  dated  two  years  before  his  death — is  an 
instance  in  point.  A more  grand  figure,  original  and  symbolic,  graceful 
and  sublime,  in  attitude,  aspect,  drapery,  accessories,  and  expression,  or  one 
more  appropriate,  cannot  be  imagined  ; and  yet  it  is  only  one  of  hundreds 
of  national  designs,  more  or  less  mature,  which  that  fertile  brain,  patriotic 
heart,  and  cunning  hand  devised.  We  are  justified  in  regarding  the 
appropriation  by  the  State  of  Virginia,  for  a monument  of  Washington  by 
such  a man,  as  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  national  Art.  Crawford  hailed 
it  as  would  a confident  explorer  the  ship  destined  to  convey  him  to 
untracked  regions,  the  ambitious  soldier  tidings  of  the  coming  foe,  or  any 
brave  aspirant  a long-sought  opportunity.  It  is  one  of  the  drawbacks  to 
elaborate  achievement  in  sculpture,  that  the  materials  and  processes  of 
the  art  require  large  pecuniary  facilities.  To  plan  and  execute  a great 
national  monument,  under  a government  commission,  was  precisely  the 
occasion  for  which  Crawford  had  long  waited.  Happening  to  read  the 
proposals  in  a journal,  while  on  a visit  to  this  country,  he  repaired  imme- 
diately to  Richmond,  submitted  his  views,  and  soon  received  the  commis- 
sion. 

To  the  variety  in  unity,  the  wealth  of  antique  genius,  open  to  the  stu- 
dent at  Rome,  Crawford  brought  the  keen  relish  of  an  observant  and  the 
aptitude  of  a creative  mind.  His  taste  in  Art  was  eminently  catholic;  he 
loved  the  fables  and  the  personages  of  Greece  because  of  this  very  diversity 

* When  his  widow  returned  to  Ttaly,  she  authorized  me  to  present  these  trophies  of  her  hus- 
band’s genius  to  any  institution  of  his  country  that  would  assume  the  expense  of  transporting  and 
the  responsibility  of  preserving  them  in  an  eligible  building  for  free  exhibition.  An  arrangement  was 
made  with  the  Commissioners  of  the  Central  Park  in  New  York  for  this  purpose,  and  an  application 
to  the  Legislature  of  the  State  by  the  New  York  Historical  Society,  will  probably  result  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  a Museum  of  Art  and  Antiquity  in  the  Park  grounds.  Should  this  projedt  be  realized, 
the  foundation  will  be  laid  for  a grand  popular  institution — like  the  British  Museum  and  Jardin  des 
Plantes  ; and  a better  nucleus  for  an  American  Gallery  of  Sculpture  cannot  be  imagined  than  the 
casts  of  Crawford’s  statues  and  bas-reliefs — so  numerous  and  versatile  in  subjedt,  interesting  in  a his- 
torical point  of  view,  and  appropriate  as  memorials  of  his  career. 


Crawford ’ 


315 


of  character, — the  freedom  to  delineate  human  instindts  and  passions  under 
a mythological  guise, — just  as  Keats  prized  the  same  themes  as  giving 
broad  range  to  his  fanciful  muse.  A list  of  our  prolific  sculptor’s  works 
is  found  to  include  the  entire  circle  of  subjects  and  styles  appropriate  to 
his  art — first,  the  usual  classic  themes,  of  which  his  first  remarkable  achieve- 
ment was  the  “ Orpheus  then  a series  of  Christian  or  religious  illustrations, 
from  Adam  and  Saul  to  Christ  at  the  Well  of  Samaria  ; next,  individual 
portraits  ; a series  of  domestic  figures,  such  as  the  “ Children  in  the  Wood,” 
or  “Truant  Boys  ; ” and,  finally,  what  maybe  termed  national  statuary,  of 
which  Beethoven  and  Washington  are  eminent  exemplars.  Like  Thor- 
waldsen,  Crawford  excelled  in  basso-relievo , and  was  a remarkable  pidtorial 
sculptor.  Having  made  early  and  intense  studies  of  the  antique,  he  has 
carefully  observed  nature  ; few  statuaries  have  more  keenly  noted  the  adtion 
of  childhood  or  equestrian  feats,  so  that  the  limbs  and  the  movements  of 
the  sweetest  of  human  and  the  noblest  of  brute  creatures  were  critically 
known  to  him.  In  sculpture  we  believe  that  a great  secret  of  the  highest 
success  lies  in  an  intuitive  ecledticism,  whereby  the  faultless  graces  of  the 
antique  are  combined  with  just  observation  of  Nature.  Without  corredt 
imitative  facility,  a sculptor  wanders  from  the  truth  and  the  fadt  of  visible 
things  ; without  ideality,  he  makes  but  a mechanical  transcript ; without 
invention,  he  but  repeats  conventional  traits.  The  desirable  medium,  the 
effective  principle,  has  been  well  defined  by  the  author  of  “ Scenes  and 
Thoughts  in  Europe  : ” — “Art  does  not  merely  copy  Nature  ; it  cooperates 
with  her,  it  makes  palpable  her  finest  essence,  it  reveals  the  spiritual 
source  of  the  corporeal  by  the  perfedtion  of  its  incarnations.”  That  Craw- 
ford invariably  kept  himself  to  “ the  height  of  this  great  argument,”  it  were 
presumptuous  to  assert ; but  that  he  constantly  approached  such  an  ideal, 
and  that  he  sometimes  seized  its  vital  principle,  the  varied  and  expressive 
forms  long  conserved  in  his  studio  at  Rome  emphatically  attest.  He  had 
obtained  command  of  the  vocabulary  of  his  art ; in  expressing  it,  like  all 
men  who  strive  largely,  he  was  unequal.  Some  of  his  creations  are  far 
more  felicitous  than  others  ; he  sometimes  worked  too  fast,  and  sometimes 
undertook  what  did  not  greatly  inspire  him ; but  when  we  refledt  on  the 
limited  period  of  his  artist-life,  on  the  intrepid  advancement  of  its  incipient 
stages  under  the  pressure  of  narrow  means  and  comparative  solitude,  on 
the  extraordinary  progress,  the  culminating  force,  the  numerous  trophies, 
and  the  acknowledged  triumphs  of  a life  of  labors,  so  patiently  achieved, 
and  suddenly  cut  off  in  mid  career,  we  cannot  but  recognize  a consum- 
mate artist  and  grand  promise  to  the  cause  of  national  Art. 

In  the  fifteenth  century,  and  earlier,  the  lives  of  artists  were  adventur- 
ous ; political  relations  gave  scope  to  incident ; and  Michael  Angelo,  Sal- 
vator Rosa,  and  Benvenuto  Cellini  furnish  almost  as  many  anecdotes  as 
memorials  of  genius.  In  modern  times,  however,  vicissitude  has  chiefly 
diversified  the  uniform  and  tranquil  existence  of  the  artist ; his  struggles 
with  fortune,  and  not  his  relations  to  public  events,  have  given  external 
interest  to  his  biography.  It  is  the  mental  rather  than  the  outward  lite 


3i  6 


American  Artist  Life. 


which  is  fraught  with  significance  to  the  painter  and  sculptor ; consciousness 
more  than  experience  affords  salient  points  in  his  career.  How  the  executive 
are  trained  to  embody  the  creative  powers,  through  what  struggles  dex- 
terity is  attained,  and  by  what  reflection  and  earnest  musing  and  observant 
patience  and  blest  intuitions  original  achievements  glimmer  upon  the  fancy, 
grow  mature  by  thought,  correCt  through  the  study  of  Nature,  and  are 
finally  realized  in  aCtion, — these  and  such  as  these  inward  revelations 
constitute  the  aCtual  life  of  the  artist.  The  mere  events  of  Crawford’s 
existence  are  neither  marvellous  nor  varied  ; his  early  love  of  imitative 
pastime,  his  fixed  purpose,  his  resort  to  stone-cutting  as  the  nearest  avail- 
able expedient  for  the  gratification  of  that  instinCt  to  copy  and  create  form 
which  so  decidedly  marks  an  aptitude  for  sculpture,  his  visit  to  Rome,  the 
self-denial  and  the  lonely  toil  of  his  novitiate,  his  rapid  advancement  in 
both  knowledge  and  skill,  and  his  gradual  recognition  as  a man  of  original 
mind  and  wise  enthusiasm,  are  but  the  normal  characteristics  of  his  fra- 
ternity. Circumstances,  however,  give  a singular  prominence  and  pathos 
to  these  usual  faCts  of  artist-life.  When  Crawford  began  his  professional 
career,  sculpture,  as  an  American  pursuit,  was  almost  as  rare  as  painting 
at  the  time  of  West’s  advent  in  Rome;  to  excel  therein  was  a national 
distinction,  having  a freshness  and  personal  interest  such  as  the  votaries 
of  older  countries  did  not  share  ; as  the  American  representative  of  his 
art  at  Rome,  even  in  the  eyes  of  his  comrades,  and  especially  in  the  esti- 
mation of  his  countrymen,  he  long  occupied  an  isolated  position.  The 
qualities  of  the  man, — his  patient  industry, — the  new  and  unexpected 
superiority  in  different  branches  of  his  art,  so  constantly  exhibited, — the 
loyal,  generous,  and  frank  spirit  of  his  domestic  and  social  life, — the  free- 
dom, the  faith,  and  the  assiduity  that  endeared  him  to  so  large  and  dis- 
tinguished a circle,  were  individual  claims  often  noted  by  foreigners  and 
natives  in  the  Eternal  City  as  honorable  to  his  country.  It  was  remem- 
bered there,  when  he  died,  that  the  hand  now  cold  had  warmly  grasped  in 
welcome  his  compatriots,  shouldered  a musket  as  one  of  the  republican 
guard,  and  been  extended  with  sympathy  and  aid  to  his  less  prosperous 
brothers.  At  the  meeting  of  fellow-artists,  convened  to  pay  a tribute  to 
his  memory,  every  nation  of  Europe  was  represented,  and  the  most  illus- 
trious of  living  English  sculptors  was  the  first  to  propose  a substantial 
memorial  to  his  name.  What  his  nativity  and  his  character  thus  so  emi- 
nently contributed  to  signalize,  the  offspring  of  his  genius,  the  manner  of 
his  death,  solemnly  confirmed.  By  no  sudden  fever,  such  as  insidiously 
steals  from  the  Roman  marshes  and  poisons  the  blood  of  its  victims, — 
by  no  violent  epidemic,  like  those  which  have  again  and  again  devastated 
the  cities  of  Europe, — by  no  illusive  decline,  whereby  vital  power  is  sapped 
unconsciously  and  with  mild  gradations,  and  which,  in  that  soft  clime,  has 
peopled  witli  the  dust  of  strangers  the  cemetery  that  the  pyramid  of  Cestus 
overshadows  and  the  heart  of  Shelley  consecrates, — by  none  of  diese 
familiar  gates  of  death  did  Crawford  pass  on  ; but,  in  the  meridian  of  his 
powers  and  his  fame,  in  the  climax  of  his  artistic  career,  in  the  noon-tide 


Crawford. 


3i; 


of  his  most  genial  activity,  a corrosive  tumor  on  the  inner  side  of  the  orbit 
of  the  eye  encroached  month  by  month,  week  by  week,  hour  by  hour, 
upon  the  sources  of  life.  Medical  skill  freed  the  brain  from  its  deadly 
pressure,  but  could  not  divert  its  organic  affinity.  The  mind’s  integrity 
was  thus  preserved  intaCt ; consciousness  and  self-possession  lent  their 
dignity  to  waning  strength  ; but  the  alert  muscles  were  relaxed,  the  busy 
hands  folded  in  prayer  ; what  Michael  Angelo  uttered  in  his  eighty-sixth, 
Crawford  was  called  upon  to  echo  in  his  forty-fifth  year  : — 

“ Well  nigh  the  voyage  now  is  overpast, 

And  my  frail  bark,  through  troubled  seas  and  rude, 

Draws  nigh  that  common  haven  where  at  last, 

Of  every  action,  be  it  evil  or  good, 

Must  due  account  be  rendered.  Well  I know 
How  vain  will  then  appear  that  favored  art, 

Sole  idol  long,  and  monarch  of  my  heart ; 

For  all  is  vain  that  man  desires  below.” 

The  cheerful  voice  was  often  hushed  by  pain  ; but  conjugal  and  sisterly 
love  kept  vigil,  a long,  a bitter  year,  by  that  couch  of  suffering  in  the  heart 
of  multitudinous  Paris  and  London  ; hundreds  of  sympathizing  friends,  in 
both  hemispheres,  listened  and  prayed  and  hoped  through  a dreary  twelve- 
month.  With  the  ripe  autumn  closed  the  quiet  struggle ; and  “ in  the 
bleak  December  ” the  mortal  remains  were  followed  from  the  temple  where 
his  youth  worshipped,  to  the  snow-clad  knoll  at  Greenwood  ; garlands  and 
tears,  the  ritual  and  the  requiem,  eulogy  and  elegy,  consecrated  the  final 
scene. 

One  would  imagine,  from  the  eagerness  and  intensity  exhibited  by 
Crawford,  that  he  anticipated  a brief  career.  Work  seemed  as  essential 
to  his  comfort  as  rest  is  to  less  determined  natures.  He  was  a thorough 
believer  in  the  moral  necessity  of  absolute  allegiance  to  his  sphere  ; and 
differed  from  his  brother-artists  chiefly  in  the  decisive  manner  in  which  he 
keep  aloof  from  extrinsic  and  incidental  influences.  If  Art  ever  made  labor 
deleCtabie,  it  was  so  with  him.  He  seemed  to  go  through  with  the  ordinary 
processes  of  life  with  but  a half  consciousness  thereof, — save  where  his  per- 
sonal affections  were  concerned.  One  of  the  first  works  for  which  he  ex- 
pressed a sympathetic  admiration  was  Thorwaldsen’s  “Triumph  of  Alex- 
ander,”— perhaps  the  most  elaborate  and  suggestive  of  modern  friezes.  He 
early  contemplated  an  entire  series  of  illustrations  of  Ovid.  He  alternated, 
with  infinite  relish,  between  the  extreme  phases  of  his  art, — a delicate  Peri 
and  a majestic  Colossal,  an  extensive  array  of  basso-relievo  figures,  a 
sublime  ideal  of  manhood  and  an  exquisite  image  of  infancy.  His  alacrity 
of  temper  was  coequal  with  his  steadiness  of  purpose  ; and  the  cheerful- 
ness of  an  aCtive  mind,  sanguine  temperament,  and  great  nervous  energy 
did  not  abandon  him,  even  in  the  state  of  forced  passivity  so  intolerable  to 
such  habitudes  ; for  hilarious  words  and,  once  or  twice,  the  old  ringing 
laugh  startled  the  fond  watchers  of  his  declining  hours.  The  events  of 
his  life  are  but  a few  expressive  outlines  ; his  works  embody  his  most 
real  experience  ; and  the  thoughts  and  feelings,  the  observation  and  the  sen- 


3 iS 


American  Artist  Life. 


timent,  not  therein  moulded  or  sketched,  happily  found  adequate  record  in 
the  ample  and  ingenuous  letters  he  wrote  to  his  beloved  sister,  from  the 
time  of  his  first  arrival  in  Europe  to  that  of  his  last  arrival  in  America 
— embracing  a period  of  twenty-two  years.  Each  work  he  conceived 
and  executed,  each  process  of  study,  the  impressions  he  gained  and  the 
convictions  at  which  he  arrived  in  relation  to  ancient  and  modern  art, — 
each  journey,  achievement,  plan,  opinion, — what  he  saw,  and  imagined, 
and  hoped,  and  did, — was  frankly  and  fondly  noted  ; and  the  time  may 
come  when  these  epistles,  inspired  by  love  and  dictated  by  intelligent  sym- 
pathy and  insight,  will  be  compiled  into  a priceless  memorial  of  artist-life. 
The  Century  Club  invited  the  well  known  portrait-painter,  Thomas  Hicks, 
to  deliver  a eulogy  upon  Crawford,  which  was  listened  to  by  the  artists  of 
New  York  and  the  friends  of.the  sculptor  with  great  interest  and  sympathy. 

“ The  funeral  of  Crawford,  the  sculptor,”  says  the  New  York  Evening 
Post , of  December  5, 1857,  “ took  place  to-day,  in  St.  John’s  Church,  Varick 
street,  at  half-past  twelve  o’clock.  His  remains,  which  arrived  at  this  port 
on  board  the  ship  Southampton,  were  conveyed  on  Wednesday  afternoon 
to  the  residence  of  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Campbell,  No.  158  Grand  street, 
and  from  there  to  St.  John’s  Church,  from  which  they  were  this  afternoon 
removed  to  Greenwood,  where  a suitable  monument  will  soon  be  ereCted. 
The  day  of  his  funeral  has  been  rainy  and  disagreeable ; still,  the  church 
was  well  filled,  comprising  all  the  artistic  and  a large  portion  of  the  literary 
gentlemen  of  the  city — such  an  audience  as  Crawford  would  have  loved  to 
have  gathered  around  him  in  life.  At  half-past  twelve,  the  procession 
entered  the  church.  First,  the  officiating  clergy,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Berrian, 
Rev.  Mr.  Weston,  and  the  Rev.  Morgan  Dix,  followed  by  the  coffin  and 
pall-bearers,  consisting  of  Hon.  Charles  Sumner,  Henry  T.  Tuckerman, 
G.  W.  Greene,  James  Lenox,  J.  F.  Kensett,  and  Dr.  Francis  Lieber,  to- 
gether with  several  of  the  relatives  and  intimate  friends  of  the  deceased. 
The  ladies  of  his  family  occupied  the  front  pews.  The  funeral  procession 
entered.  The  choir  chaunted  those  beautiful  selections  from  the  Psalms, 
the  39th  and  90th,  commencing,  “ Lord,  let  me  know  my  end  and  the  num- 
ber of  my  days,  that  I may  be  certain  how  long  I have  to  live  also  the 
Anthem,  “ I heard  a voice  from  Heaven  saying  unto  me,  write,  from  hence- 
forth, blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord.  Even  so,  saith  the  Spirit, 
for  they  rest  from  their  labors.” 

The  funeral  service  was  read  by  Dr.  Berrian,  and  the  choir  sung  three 
verses  of  the  26th  hymn,  Episcopal  collection. 

A laurel  wreath,  and  a cross  made  of  flowers,  were  laid  on  the  lid  of  the 
coffin.  After  the  service  the  body  was  taken  to  Greenwood,  attended  by 
Rev.  Mr.  Weston,  charged  with  the  duty  of  finally  committing  it  to  the 
earth. 

Mr.  Crawford  was  born  of  an  Episcopal  family.  Previously  to  his  death 
he  made  arrangements  for  the  completion  of  all  his  works,  by  Mr.  Rogers. 
He  died  in  the  full  possession  of  his  senses,  and  in  great  peace  of  mind  ; 
in  the  communion  of  the  Anglican  branch  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  attended 


Crawford. 


319 


during  his  last  illness  by  an  English  clergyman  with  whom  he  had  been 
acquainted  in  Rome,  and  who  happened  to  be  in  London  at  the  time  of 
Mr.  Crawford’s  arrival  there  prior  to  his  death. 

A service  was  performed  over  the  body,  previously  to  its  removal  from 
London,  by  the  clergy  of  St.  Gabriel’s,  Pimlico. 

In  person,  Crawford  was  above  the  middle  height,  with  remarkably  reg- 
ular features  and  strongly  marked,  very  clear  eye,  high  forehead,  straight 
nose.  A very  perfect  medal  of  his  face,  three  inches  in  diameter,  was 
struck  in  Munich,  two  years  before  his  death,  the  work  of  a German  artist, 
named  Voigt. 

He  left  a widow  and  four  children.  He  married  a daughter  of  .Samuel 
Ward,  Esq.,  sister  to  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  and  Mrs.  Mailliard,  of  Bor- 
dentown,  N.  J.,  at  which  place  Mrs.  Crawford  made  her  residence  after  her 
return  from  England.  She  vvas  with  her  husband  during  his  whole  illness, 
and  much  exhausted  by  her  care  and  anxiety.” 

THE  FUNERAL  OF  CRAWFORD. 

December  5,  1857. 

The  tears  that  silent  fall, 

The  ritual  and  the  pall, 

The  dirge  and  crowd  of  mourners  gathered  round, 

Declare  a vanished  breath, 

The  cold  eclipse  of  Death — 

But  Worth  and  Genius  rend  its  narrow  bound  ; 


Their  offspring  cannot  die, 

And  fondly  hover  nigh 

To  soothe  the  anguish  they  may  not  control  ; 
What  an  undying  race, 

In  forms  of  placid  grace, 

To  Fancy’s  gaze  reveal  the  Sculptor’s  soul  ! 

A harp’s  low,  quivering  note 
Above  us  seems  to  float 
Like  the  faint  murmur  of  a lover’s  sigh, 

And  a lithe  shape  to  glide 
Seeking  the  ravished  bride, 

As  eager  Orpheus  moves  expectant  by  ! 

And  Liberty’s  appeal 
From  lips  of  bronze  to  steal, 

As  Eloquence  uplifts  Persuasion’s  hand  : 
While  near,  transfixed  in  thought, 

F rom  inward  rapture  caught, 

Music’s  high-priest  before  us  seems  to  stand. 

With  firm,  exalted  mien, 

In  redtitude  serene, 

Our  Country’s  Father  reins  his  martial  steed  ; 
And  thronging  to  the  rite, 

Looms  on  our  aching  sight, 

A vast  procession  from  the  quarry  freed 


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American  Artist  Life. 


Pandora’s  queenly  breast, 

And  Cupid’s  loving  zest, 

The  Grecian  hero  and  the  Saxon  child  ; 
And  death’s  angelic  sleep 
Seems  evermore  to  creep 
O’er  the  clasp’d  infants  lost  amid  the  wild. 


Hushed  be  the  requiem’s  wail, 

As  forms  so  mute  and  pale, 

Yet  warmed  to  life  by  thy  creative  art, 

Haste,  like  pure  spirits  here, 

To  consecrate  thy  bier, 

And  living  still  proclaim  thy  dauntless  heart. 

Beauty’s  immortal  quest 
Sustained  privation’s  test, 

Until  youth’s  vision  manhood’s  prize  became  ; 

Then  the  delights  of  home, 

And  hallowed  air  of  Rome, 

Crowned  thy  unswerving  prime  with  love  and  fame 

In  Fortune’s  noon  of  might 
Came  the  relentless  blight, 

And  Life’s  best  triumphs  thou  no  more  could  share  ; 
Those  hands  that  nobly  wrought, 

And  truth  enamored  sought, 

The  chisel  loosened  then — to  fold  in  prayer  ! 

The  Grief  whose  shadows  rest 
Here  in  thy  native  West, 

An  echo  wakes  in  Art’s  perennial  clime  ; 

Thy  marble  children  wait, 

In  beauty  desolate, 

And  brothers  mourn  thee  in  that  haunt  of  Time  ! 

The  sunsets  pensive  flush, 

The  fountains  moaning  gush, 

Campagna  flowers  sweeter  incense  breathe, 

Beneath  the  Palatine, 

In  studio  and  shrine, 

Glory  and  Woe  their  palm  and  cypress  wreathe  ! 

With  Art’s  eternal  calm, 

With  Faith’s  all-healing  balm, 

And  Love’s  unfading  smile — thy  spirit  fled  ; 

Ah,  no  ! by  these  we  feel 
Its  presence  o’er  us  steal, 

Though  kneeling  tearful  here  beside  the  dead. 


HUNTINGTON. 


UNTINGTON  was  eledted  President  of  the  National 
Academy  of  Design,  May  14th’  i862~a  tribute  by  his 
brother-artists  not  only  to  his  professional  eminence  but 
of  their  personal  attachment.  Few  of  our  painters  have 
exhibited  greater  versatility  of  talent  or  more  broad  and 
pure  artistic  sympathies.  In  other  times  and  under  dif- 
ferent circumstances,  Huntington  would  have  become  a religious  painter, 
in  which  branch,  by  study  and  sentiment,  he  was  specially  fitted  to  excel  ; 
devoted  to  portraiture  by  the  practical  exigencies  of  his  era  and  country, 
he  has  yet  delineated  scenery  and  executed  genre  pictures  with  eminent 
success  : so  that  his  artist-life  is  singularly  representative  and  suggestive. 

Some  thirty  years  ago,  within  a stone’s  throw  of  the  glorious  old 
elms  of  New  Haven,  a slightly-built  youth,  with  a green  shade  over  his 
eyes,  used  to  study  the  Odes  of  Horace  at  three  o’clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  fadt  in  itself  is  nothing  very  extraordinary,  but  taken  in  con- 
nection with  the  after-career  of  the  .student,  it  is  not  without  interest. 
The  hour  and  the  occupation  certainly  indicate  something  like  earnestness 
of  purpose  ; but  character  is  no  less  forcibly  displayed  in  pastime  than  in 
toil.  With  what  an  elastic  step  and  ringing  laugh — the  natural  language 
of  a sensitive  and  buoyant  temper — he  doffs,  at  the  noonday  recess,  his 
studious  mood,  and  how  the  young  faces  at  the  evening  club  grow  expect- 
ant when  his  turn  comes  to  read  a paper  ! They  know  a graphic  sketch 
of  some  comrade  is  forthcoming,  but  little  do  they  imagine  as  they  recog- 
nize the  different  traits,  that  the  juvenile  ability  is  eventually  to  shape  itself 
into  artistic  skill,  that  shall  produce  what  is  lasting  and  endeared.  Yet 
one  of  the  merry  group  in  thus  recalling  the  school-days  of  Huntington, 
says  that  even  then  “ his  soul  was  filled  with  a love  of  the  beautiful — and 
a reaching  after  it,  was  an  impulsive  effort  of  his  nature.” 

Daniel  Huntington  was  born  in  New  York,  Oct.  14th,  1816.  Although 
it  was  in  Trumbull’s  studio  that  he  first  realized  fully  his  strong  natural 
inclination  to  pursue  art,  that  eminent  painter  only  warned  him  from  it  as 
a precarious  vocation,  beset  with  difficulty  and  disappointment ; the  ten- 
dency, however,  was  confirmed  through  his  acquaintance  with  an  itinerant 
portrait-artist,  while  he  was  a student  at  Hamilton  College  ; at  the  same 


21 


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American  Artist  Life. 


period  he  sat  to  Elliot,  and  made  use  of  his  brushes  and  palette  to  try  his 
own  hand  at  “counterfeit  presentments  ” of  some  of  his  classmates,  whom 
he  had  often  entertained  before  with  caricatures.  In  1835  be  began  to 
study  painting  with  Professor  Morse,  and  subsequently  with  Inman  ; his 
earliest  attempt  at  original  work  was  in  the  shape  of  humorous  illustra- 
tions of  every-day  life  ; but  he  soon  gave  his  attention  to  portraiture  as 
the  most  available  and  lucrative  branch.  Several  months  passed  among 
the  Hudson  Highlands,  in  1836,  gave  scope  to  his  talent  for  landscape  : 
he  painted  the  Dunderberg  Mountain,  and  a view  of  Rondout  at  twilight 
and  sunset.  In  1839,  be  went  abroad:  at  Florence  he  painted  the  “Flor- 
entine Girl”  and  “ The  Sybil and  at  Rome  “ The  Shepherd  Boy  of  the 
Campagna,”  and  “ Early  Christian  Prisoner.”  Returning  to  New  York, 
he  again  engaged  in  portrait-pointing,  and  began  his  elaborate  illustrations 
of  “ The  Pilgrim’s  Progress,”  when  an  affection  of  the  eyes  forced  him 
to  give  up  the  use  of  the  pencil  for  a considerable  period.  In  1844  be 
revisited  Rome,  and  executed  several  works,  which  were  cordially  received 
at  home  ; among  them  “ The  Black  Penitents,”  “ The  Sacred  Lesson,” 
and  the  “ Communion  of  the  Sick.”  Two  years  later  we  again  find  him 
a favorite  portrait-painter  in  his  native  city  : during  the  intervals  of  which 
occupation,  he  executed  an  historical  picture  — “ Henry  the  Eighth  and 
Catherine  Parr;”  also  “ Mary  signing  Lady  Jane  Grey’s  Death-Warrant*,” 
and  the  latter  in  the  Tower.  Some  of  Huntington’s  portraits  are  master- 
pieces of  color  and  character  ; such  as  those  of  his  father,  of  Verplanck, 
Agassiz,  Mrs.  Bell,  Bishop  Mcllvaine,  Lord  Morpeth,  and  Sir  Charles 
Eastlake.  In  catching  the  likeness  he  is  unequal.  Several  of  his  genre 
pictures — as,  for  instance,  “ Ichabod  Crane  and  Katrina  Van  Tassel”  and 
“The  Counterfeit  Note,”  are  spirited,  ingenious,  and  true  to  every  phase 
and  suggestion  of  the  subjeCt.  Of  the  former,  a critic  has  well  said  : — 

“ The  contrast  between  the  ignorant  Dutch  beauty,  coquettish  to  the 
plump  little  fingers’  ends,  and  the  exceedingly  learned  schoolmaster, 
knowing  nothing  about  woman  save  to  parse  her,  is  so  wonderfully  told  in 
this  picture  that  we  almost  fancy  we  should  have  been  able  to  decipher 
Ichabod’s  melancholy  future  had  we  never  read  Irving.  It  is  hardly  pos- 
sible to  avoid  caricature,  as  Huntington  has  done,  and  yet  write  such 
multitudinous,  unmistakable  lines  of  idiosyncrasy  on  faces  and  figures. 
We  wish  we  had  space  to  refer  at  large  to  the  admirable  elaboration  of 
accessories  in  the  Dutch  kitchen,  but  must  simply  say  that  in  all  respeCts 
this  pidlure  is  one  of  the  best  genre  pidlures  ever  produced  here.” 

As  a proof,  indeed,  how  far  the  original  proclivity  to  religious  art 
became  merged  in  a more  versatile  and  less  ideal  development,  we  have 
not  only  the  portraits  and  landscapes  of  Huntington,  but  several  genre 
pictures  executed  with  zest  and  cleverness.  “ The  Counterfeit  Note  ” was 
commended  at  the  Royal  Academy  Exhibition.  The  figures  are  of  cabinet 
size  ; the  interior  of  an  English  shop,  with  its  assortment  of  dry  goods, 
is  painted  with  the  finish  and  well-contrasted  color  that  distinguish  the 
best  Flemish  still-life  execution  ; in  the  background,  through  an  open 


H untington . 323 

door,  we  have  a glimpse  ot  the  cosy  “parlor  behind  the  shop,”  so  charac- 
teristic of  the  old-fashioned  style  of  convenient  “variety  store  ;”  at  an 
angle  between  the  two  stands  a foreign-looking  man,  in  dress,  expression, 
and  air,  typical  of  the  roguish  adventurer  ; he  has  evidently  made  a pur- 
chase and  tendered  a large  bank-note  in  payment ; this  note  the  old  shop- 
keeper is  inspecting  behind  the  counter,  while  his  shrewd  wife  whispers 
her  suspicions  in  his  ear,  and  points  significantly  over  her  shoulder  at  the 
strange  customer,  who,  with  assumed  indifference  but  cunning  glances, 
awaits  the  result.  So  far,  the  picture,  while  remarkable  for  execution  and 
expression,  only  tells  a story  of  common  life  and  rascality  ; but  to  redeem 
this,  with  consummate  taCt,  the  artist  has  thrown  rays  of  true  poetry 
athwart  the  material  scene ; outside  the  counter  sits  a beautiful  girl, 
dressed  with  a taste  so  appropriate,  that  we  should  think  her  costume 
alone  would  win  scores  of  admirers  ; unconscious  of  what  is  going 
on,  she  is  ostensibly  occupied  in  examining  the  quality  of  a fabric  before 
her  ; but  her  air  of  refinement,  the  pure  intellectuality  of  her  countenance, 
and  a certain  superiority  to  the  people  and  the  scene  around  her,  impress 
the  spectator  the  more  from  the  contrast ; a lovely  and  tasteful  English 
girl,  she  throws  a beautiful  charm  over  the  whole  ; a vase  of  fresh  flowers, 
exquisitively  painted,  is  the  only  objeCt  that  seems  in  affinity  with  her, 
and  the  two  give  a poetic  interest  to  the  clever  delineation  of  the  entire 
scene,  which,  in  color,  finish,  and  expression,  is  an  evidence  of  facility  rare 
in  pictorial  art. 

Of  his  more  recent  works,  one  of  the  most  interesting  is  a cabinet-sized 
and  admirably-grouped  collection  of  historical  figures,  illustrative  of  the 
early  days  of  the  Republic  ; it  was  finished  just  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
Southern  Rebellion.  It  is  eminently  a national  picture,  appealing  so 
forcibly  to  the  glorious  past  in  our  history — in  its  social  manifestation — as 
caused  tears  of  sorrow  and  indignation  to  start  in  the  eyes  of  every  lover 
of  his  country  as  he  looked  with  pride  and  delight  upon  the  beautiful  work 
of  Huntington,  and  contrasted  its  high  and  endeared  associations  with 
the  melancholy  fads  of  that  hour. 

The  painting  represents  a reception  given  by  Mrs.  Washington,  during 
the  Presidency  of  our  peerless  Chief.  No  specific  date  is  chosen,  and 
some  liberties  are  taken  with  chronological  faCts — as,  for  instance,  the 
introduction  of  General  Greene,  who  died  shortly  previous  to  this  time,  but 
whose  prominence  in  the  Revolution  makes  it  very  desirable  to  include  him 
in  the  “Republican  Court.”  Sixty  “fair  women  and  brave  men”  occupy 
the  eight  feet  of  canvas.  Not  one  is  a lifeless  figure  ; all  are  disposed  easily, 
all  are  naturally  occupied.  The  grouping  is  admirable.  As  a composition 
the  painting  is,  therefore,  a genuine  success.  Mrs.  Washington  stands 
dignified,  but  not  constrained,  upon  a raised  platform  ; behind  her  is 
Alexander  Hamilton,  talking  to  a lady  ; near  by,  John  Jay  ; Washington 
is  approaching  the  ladies  with  a foreign  guest.  We  recognize  forms 
and  faces  at  a glance — Mrs.  Jay,  Mrs.  Adams,  Mrs.  Rufus  King, 
Mrs.  Theodore  Sedgwick,  Nelly  Custis,  Mrs.  Robert  Morris,  Gen : 


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American  Artist  Life . 


Greene,  Jonathan  Trumbull,  Oliver  Elsworth,  Mrs.  Duer,  Clinton’s  vener- 
able mother  ; Jefferson,  the  Duke  of  Cambridge  (on  a visit  to  America), 
Mrs.  Bingham,  pretty  Nellie  Custis,  naively  standing  beside  her  mother, 
Mrs.  Knox,  Mrs.  Rutledge,  Mrs.  Phillipse,  Mrs.  Schuyler — in  a word,  all 
the  heroic  and  lovely  faces,  the  statesmen  and  the  belles,  familiar  to 
us  through  the  portraits  and  miniatures.  Huntington  has  painted  the 
costumes  with  rare  taste  and  skill  ; they  are  elegant,  and  as  authentic 
as  they  are  picturesque.  The  drawing  is,  for  the  most  part,  masterly  ; 
the  color  full  of  the  richest  contrast,  yet  harmoniously  toned. 

It  is  an  elaborate  work,  including  sixty-four  figures,  all  of  them  portraits 
copied  from  Copley,  Stuart,  and  Malbone,  and  from  family  likenesses  in  the 
possession  of  the  living  descendants  of  many  of  the  persons  represented.  In 
some  instances,  “ when  the  resemblance  had  been  transmitted  through  two 
generations,  a granddaughter  would  sit  for  her  grandmother’s  picture  ; at 
others,  when  a face  had  been  laboriously  transferred  from  parchment  or 
ivory  to  canvas,  an  expression,  caught  from  the  living  features  of  the 
grandson  or  great-niece,  would  give  it  character  and  animation.” 

Among  his  later  portraits  is  one  of  the  lamented  Lincoln.  It  is  true  to 
nature  in  all  the  rugged  simplicity  of  the  original’s  form  and  feature  ; but  in 
the  eyes  there  is  a tender  solicitude,  a deep  anxiety,  and  a patient  honesty, 
which  reveal  the  true  character  of  the  martyr  President.  The  portrait  of 
Bryant,  by  the  same  artist,  differs  from  previous  “ counterfeit  presentments” 
of  the  poet,  in  giving  him  a more  familiar  air  ; the  attitude  is  natural  and 
the  costume  simple  ; a background  of  autumnal  foliage  is  very  appropriate, 
and  the  expression  of  the  noble  head  is  genial,  such  as  Bryant’s  friends 
will  gladly  recognize. 

Those  who  have  seen  the  marine  view  painted  by  Huntington  several 
years  ago,  at  Newport,  R.  I.,  will  not  fail  to  accord  him  great  skill  and  fine 
feeling  in  landscape,  and  he  has  lately  finished  a work  of  this  kind  more 
elaborate  and  characteristic  than  any  picture  of  the  same  species  he  has 
ever  attempted.  It  has  occupied  him  at  intervals  for  several  years.  The 
subjeCt  is  New  Hampshire  scenery,  amid  which  he  has  passed  many  sum- 
mers ; Mount  Chicora  is  prominent ; each  feature  is  a careful  study  from 
nature  ; a mountain  that  will  be  recognized  at  once  by  many — a lake,  a 
cliff,  groups  of  trees,  and  an  effective  foreground,  with  the  gray  mottled  sky 
and^  subdued  autumnal  tints  of  early  September. 

There  is  a mechanical  and  a spiritual  element  in  art,  a body  and  a soul, 
a certain  physical  dexterity,  adroitness,  and  taCt,  attainable  through  imita- 
tive and  manual  power  ; and  above  and  beyond  this  outward  skill,  there  is 
an  intelligent  principle,  a spirit,  the  infusion  of  which  sublimates  and  makes 
expressive  what  were  otherwise  without  significance.  It  is  the  combina- 
tion and  mutual  development  of  these  two  principles,  variously  modified, 
that  distinguish  and  characterize  all  products  of  art.  Drawing,  coloring, 
the  rules  of  perspective,  foreshortening,  and  chiaro-oscuro , are  to  the  artist 
what  words,  sentences,  and  rhythm  are  to  the  writer — the  vehicles  and  in- 
struments of  the  mind.  Felicity  in  using  them  is  most  desirable,  and  a 


Huntington. 


3^5 


good  degree  of  mastery  over  them  essential  ; but  it  should  never  be  for- 
gotten that  they  do  not  constitute,  but  only  embody  art.  They  may  be  ac- 
quired by  men  of  industry  and  ordinary  intelligence,  and  may  bear  the  same 
relation  to  art  in  its  highest  sense,  that  the  wax  preparations  of  an  ana- 
tomical museum  do  to  the  living  man.  They  are  the  material  faCts,  and  un- 
less electrified  by  invention,  warmed  by  feeling,  or  inspired  with  life,  con- 
vey no  mental  impression,  and  excite  no  sympathy.  If  it  were  otherwise, 
the  daguerreotype,  carried  to  greater  perfection,  might  supersede  the 
limner’s  toil,  and  a musical  instrument  be  fashioned  which  would  take  the 
place  of  vocalism.  But  the  distinction  between  mind  and  matter,  between 
physical  and  moral  laws,  the  senses  and  the  soul,  is  absolute.  Only  the 
living,  reasoning  intellect,  and  the  conscious,  earnest  heart,  can  make  form, 
sound,  or  color,  eloquent  of  truth.  Mechanical  ingenuity  has  been  carried 
to  a height,  in  our  times,  beyond  the  wildest  imaginings  of  antiquity  ; and 
yet  in  no  age  have  spiritual  laws,  the  mysterious  analogies  of  life,  the 
boundless  aspirations  and  infinite  needs  of  humanity,  been  more  widely  and 
intelligibly  recognized.  Every  work  of  art  and  literature  is  challenged  now, 
not  merely  as  an  objeCt  of  external  criticism,  but  with  a view  to  its  moral 
significance.  A beautiful  style,  whether  of  painting  or  writing,  is  not  suf- 
fered to  conceal  poverty  of  ideas.  Words  may  be  strong  in  euphonious 
paragraphs,  figures  may  be  correCtly  designed,  and  colors  harmoniously 
blended  ; but  unless  they  have  a meaning,  clear,  true,  and  interesting,  they 
are  but  listlessly  viewed,  and  never  responded  to.  Conformity  to  academic 
precepts  is  now  but  a negative  merit.  Violation  of  rules  is  sooner  pardoned 
than  looseness  of  conception.  The  progress  of  science,  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge,  and  political  revolutions  have  revealed  to  the  mass  the  differ- 
ence between  appearances  and  reality,  the  conventional  and  the  genuine. 
Instead  of  elegantly-penned  Spectators,  we  have  the  cogent  rhetoric  of 
Spencer  and  Macaulay  ; and  “ Corn-Law  Rhymes  ” and  “ Psalms  of  Life  ” 
are  more  popular  than  the  most  finished  courtier  verses.  The  casket  may  be 
elaborately  polished  and  adorned,  but  its  finish  no  longer  diverts  attention 
from  the  gems  within  ; and  the  brightest  artillery  of  expression  is  inade- 
quate to  win  the  mind  from  the  thing  expressed.  The  writer  and  the  artist  of 
our  times  may,  therefore,  congratulate  themselves  if  their  works  will  bear 
this  test — if  the  interest  they  inspire  is  born  mainly  of  the  soul,  and  only 
relatively  from  the  implements  they  employ.  Huntington  is  obviously  of  this 
school.  We  think  little  of  the  process  by  which  he  works,  as  we  contem- 
plate his  pictures.  The  idea  of  a very  skilful  imitation  of  some  physical 
quality  or  material  fabric,  does  not  present  itself  at  once  to  the  spectator. 
We  do  not  instinctively  set  about  a comparison  between  the  objeCts  on  the 
canvas  and  their  types  in  nature.  These  considerations,  if  they  suggest 
themselves  at  all,  are  matters  of  after-thought.  It  is  to  our  sympathies 
rather  than  our  observation  that  he  appeals.  He  aims  not  merely  to  portray 
fine-looking  men  and  women,  but  represents  states  of  mind,  conditions 
of  feeling,  phases  of  character.  The  minute  exactitude  of  the  Flemish 
school,  and  the  dramatic  effeCt  of  the  French,  are  equally  distant  from  his 


American  Artist  Life. 


326 

province.  The  main  idea,  the  chief  aim  of  his  pictures,  to  which  fidelity 
of  detail  and  artistical  effeCt  are  subsidiary,  is  to  express  a sentiment,  and 
this  it  is  which  at  once  attracts  and  pervades  us  as  we  gaze.  He  would  not 
amuse,  dazzle,  or  simply  please  us  ; he  teaches  and  inspires,  by  some  lofty, 
sweet,  or  pious  feeling,  represented  with  unaffected  grace  and  simplicity. 
Those  who  cannot  seize  at  once  upon  this  emotion,  who  do  not  find  some 
passage  of  their  lives,  or  tendency  of  their  character,  or  instindt  of  their 
nature,  thus  brought  palpably  to  view  ; who  are  not,  as  it  were,  mesmerized 
by  and  placed  in  relation  with  the  subjedt,  fail  to  recognize  what  is  most 
characteristic  of  this  class  of  artists.  Those  who  have  an  eye  only  for  the 
picturesque,  or  whose  notion  of  painting  is  confined  to  the  graphic  reflec- 
tion of  external  nature,  will  find  comparatively  but  little  satisfaction  in  the 
fruits  of  such  pencils  ; but  all  who  delight  in  the  beauty  of  the  inner  world, 
who  are  aware  of  what  is  latent  in  existence,  who  are  wont,  like  the  patri- 
arch, to  go  forth  and  muse  at  eventide — to  whom  love  and  faith  are  neces- 
sary and  real,  will  enter  into  the  feeling,  and  accept  the  suggestions  which 
breathe  from  their  canvas.  They  are  not  definite,  scholastic,  nor  vivacious 
and  brilliant,  nor  yet  wild  and  terrible,  but  chaste  and  gentle,  serene  and 
elevated  ; and  they  are  so,  not  through  any  strongly  marked,  but  through  a 
wise  and  contemplative  manner.  It  is  by  the  atmosphere,  rather  than  the 
outlines,  that  they  impart  themselves — as  Charles  Lamb  does  in  a letter,  or 
Barry  Cornwall  in  a song — by  the  overflow  rather  than  the  crystallization 
of  a mood.  As  there  are  vocalists  who  affect  us  by  the  feeling  rather  than 
the  science  of  their  tones,  and  talkers  whom  we  delight  in  less  for  the  dis- 
tinct ideas  they  utter,  than  on  account  of  the  genial  influence  of  their  con- 
versation, so  there  are  artists  whom  we  love  less  because  of  any  energetic 
individuality  of  conception  than  for  the  refreshment  of  the  general  tone, 
the  spirit  in  which  they  work,  the  melody  they  bring  out  of  their  themes, 
which  never  obtrude  or  declare  themselves,  but  rather  hint,  quietly  suggest, 
and  gradually  win.  Such  productions  spring  from  the  same  source  to 
which  Hunt  ascribes  poetry — a fine  liability  to  impressions,  and  are  direCtly 
the  reverse  in  their  origin  and  influence  of  all  that  is  fantastic,  morbid,  or 
technical.  Without  pretension,  unaided  by  any  mechanical  trickery,  like 
the  wild  flower,  the  air,  or  a bird’s  song,  the  spell  is  gentle,  but  true  and 
sweet,  and  such  as  it  is  both  wise  and  happy  to  feel. 

A man’s  intellectual  endowments  stamp  his  works,  but  his  social  quali- 
ties are  more  influential  in  shaping  their  character.  That  Huntington 
would  make  an  effective  painter  might  have  been  confidently  predicted 
from  his  talents,  but  what  kind  of  a painter  would  depend  upon  his  natural 
sympathies.  Frank,  generous,  and  wholly  unaffeCted,  the  affectionate 
observer  of  his  mental  development  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  what  he 
believed , that  he  would  do.  We  have  spoken  of  his  boyish  propensity  for 
association.  After  his  studies  at  Hamilton  College  were  completed,  he 
began  praCtically  as  an  artist,  availing  himself  of  the  instructions  of  a pro- 
fessor and  the  privileges  of  the  National  Academy.  In  conjunction  with  a 
friend,  since  honorably  distinguished  as  a churchman  and  poet,  he  founded 


327 


Huntington. 

a club.  At  first  this  society  was  purely  recreative,  an  agreeable  safety- 
valve  whereby  our  artist’s  inventive  and  overflowing  humor — a quality 
often  allied  to  sensibility  and  thoughtfulness,  as  Shakspeare  has  inimitably 
shown  in  the  Prince  of  Denmark — found  genial  scope.  The  comedy  of 
life,  for  which  even  the  stern  Michael  Angelo  had  a keen  relish,  had  free 
play  when  the  members  foregathered,  and  none  more  genially  shared  and 
provoked  the  sport  than  Huntington.  Among  the  members  was  one  whose 
idiosyncrasies  harmonized  with  the  rites  and  associations  of  Episcopacy, 
or  rather  with  Catholicism  rightly  understood  ; who  loved  the  memory  of 
Charles  the  First,  and  ardently  recognized  what  was  noble  in  the  spirit  ot 
the  cavaliers  ; to  whom  Advent  and  Lent,  Passion-week  and  Christmas, 
were  not  mere  names,  but  fond  and  sacred  realities,  whose  inspiration  has 
found  such  beautiful  embodiment  abroad  in  “ Keble’s  Christian  Year,”  and 
on  this  side  of  the  water,  in  the  poems  of  Croswell  and  Cleveland  Coxe. 
Such  was  the  influence  that  pervaded  the  inner  circle  of  Huntington’s 
associates  as  his  gifts  were  verging  toward  maturity.  It  accorded  with 
some  of  his  early  predilections,  his  mother’s  family  having  been  Episco- 
palians. Hitherto  he  had  sought  the  beautiful  in  the  fields  and  sky,  and 
passed  from  the  comic  to  the  serious  as  one  may  go  from  a band  of  game- 
some companions,  who  “ fleet  the  time  lightly  as  they  did  in  the  golden 
age,”  to  the  vast  and  fair  in  outward  nature — as  Jacques  left  the  merry 
courtiers  of  the  exiled  monarch  for  the  “ shade  of  melancholy  boughs.” 
While  life  was  “all  a feeling  not  yet  shaped  into  a thought,”  our  young- 
artist  was  content  to  portray  “A  Toper  Asleep,”  and  “A  Bar-room  Politi- 
cian,” or  “ Ichabod  Crane  flogging  a Scholar,”  clever,  true  to  life,  and 
abounding  in  that  love  of  fun  which  is  one  of  the  moods  of  genius.  As 
his  nature  deepened  from  experience,  he  sought  in  landscape  a wider 
sphere,  and  for  months  roamed  about  his  native  State,  and  particularly  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  Hudson,  painting  the  glorious  scenes  near  Verplanck’s, 
the  Dunderberg  mountain,  and  views  near  Rondout,  at  twilight  and  sun- 
set. But  while  thus  freely  communing  with  natural  beauty,  he  gradually 
yielded  to  a more  direCt  and  intimate  agency.  By  the  spiritual  cast  of  his 
mind  and  the  daily  conversation  of  his  friends,  as  well  as  from  the  vivid 
impressions  of  childhood,  ideas  such  as  immortalize  the  creations  of  Over- 
beck, and  hallow  the  names  of  Raphael  and  Domenichino,  became  famihar 
and  dear,  and  he  felt  himself  destined  for  a religious  painter.  All  that  had 
preceded  was  admirably  calculated  to  promote  his  success.  His  ability,  at 
once  felt  and  acknowledged  in  landscape,  and  the  bold  and  characteristic 
style  of  his  portraits,  were  simply  evidences  that  he  possessed  the  requi- 
site command  both  of  figure  and  scenery,  and  now  to  these  mechanical 
aptitudes  were  added  the  inspiration  of  Faith. 

Two  visits  to  Europe,  where  his  time  was  chiefly  passed  in  Rome,  with- 
out making  Huntington  an  imitator,  have  contributed  to  improve  his  taste, 
and  afforded  him  many  desirable  facilities  for  advancing  in  the  high  and 
difficult  range  of  art  to  which  his  native  instinCts  spontaneously  led.  As 
pledges  of  what  he  can  do,  it  is  only  necessary  to  allude  to  his  pictures  of 


328 


American  Artist  Life. 


“Early  Christian  Prisoners,”  “Christiana  and  her  Children  escaping  from 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,”  “ The  Woman  of  Samaria  at  the 
Well,”  and  “ The  Communion  of  the  Sick.”  The  latter  represents  the 
giving  of  the  viaticum  to  a dying  Christian  in  the  primitive  age.  A priest 
is  administering  the  consecrated  bread,  and  a young  deacon  waits  with  the 
chalice.  It  has  been  said  that  its  effeft  on  the  devout  mind  is  hardly  infe- 
rior to  that  produced  by  the  celebrated  “ Communion  of  St.  Jerome.” 

The  original  of  “ The  Dream  of  Mercy”  was  in  the  collection  of  as  judi- 
cious a patron  of  the  arts  as  we  have  yet  had  among  us,*  whose  latter  years, 
darkened  as  they  would  otherwise  have  been  by  illness  and  confinement, 
derived  an  interest  and  a beauty  from  his  devotion  to  this  high  source  of 
pleasure,  which  affords  a noble  example  to  all  who  have  the  soul  to  redeem 
trial  or  adorn  prosperity.  In  this  painting  the  sweetest  fancies  of  the  brave 
author  of  that  immortal  allegory,  “ Pilgrim’s  Progress,”  are  admirably  con- 
centrated. The  consoling  rays  that  glorified  his  imprisonment  so  long  ago, 
still  quiver  around  the  face  of  the  blest  sleeper,  and  buoy  up  the  wings  of 
the  angel  that  fills  her  dream.  A kindred  feeling  broods  over  the  work  to 
that  which  charms  us  in  Correggio’s  “ Magdalen.”  The  idea  expressed  is, 
indeed,  different.  The  gracefulness  of  Guido’s  “ Michael  triumphing  over 
Satan  ” is  observable  in  the  winged  messenger,  but  the  expression  of  Mercy 
is  heavenly.  A violinist,  under  the  influence  of  tender  or  aspiring  emotion, 
will  sometimes  cause  his  instrument  to  vibrate  with  a thrilling  accent,  born 
not  of  the  music  he  interprets,  but  rather  the  offspring  of  an  individual 
feeling.  Thus,  in  depicting  “ Mercy’s  Dream,”  has  Pluntington  informed 
it  with  a sentiment  of  his  own.  When  he  had  nearly  finished  this  picture, 
a friend  objected  that  he  should  rather  have  chosen  his  subject  from  Spen- 
ser than  from  Bunyan.  The  next  day,  the  artist,  by  introducing  a cross  in 
the  crown  which  the  angel  extends  to  Mercy,  added  a beautiful  significance 
to  the  composition. 

The  following  extract  from  Bunyan’s  “Pilgrim’s  Progress”  is  the  sub- 
ject of  this  picture  : — “ I was  dreaming  that  I sat  alone  in  a solitary  place, 
and  was  bemoaning  of  the  hardness  of  my  heart.  * * Methought  I looked 
up,  and  saw  one  coming  with  wings  toward  me.  So  lie  came  direCtly 
to  me  and  said,  ‘ Mercy,  what  aileth  thee  ?’  Now  when  he  had  heard  me 
make  my  complaint,  he  said,  ‘ Peace  be  to  thee  ’ * * and  he  put  a beautiful 
crown  upon  my  head.  * * Then  he  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  said,  ‘ Mercy, 
come  after  me.’  * * So  he  went  up,  and  I followed,  till  we  came  to  a golden 
gate.  Then  he  knocked  ; and  when  they  within  had  opened,  the  man  went 
in,  and  I followed  him  up  to  a throne  upon  which  one  sat,  and  he  said  to 
me,  ‘ Welcome,  daughter.’  The  place  looked  bright  and  twinkling  like  the 
stars,  or  rather  like  the  sun.” 

In  a different  era  and  country,  as  we  have  said,  Huntington  would  have 
become  preeminently  a religious  painter  ; but  as  is  so  often  the  case,  por- 
traiture soon  chiefly  occupied  his  pencil. 


* The  late  Edward  L.  Carey. 


Huntington.  329 

AncI  this  brings  us  to  that  mooted  question  which  has  been  such  a thorn 
in  the  side  to  conscientious  but  narrow  minds — the  true  relation  of  Art  to 
Religion.  To  deny  any  whatever,  is  absurd,  as  long  as  men  gather  beneath 
a roof,  however  simple,  to  worship  ; and  if  we  recognize  in  the  arcades  of 
the  forest  and  the  glory  of  the  mountain,  either  the  tokens  of  divine  benig- 
nity or  the  unconscious  praise  which  the  universe  offers  to  her  Creator,  how 
much  more  significant  are  the  intelligent  trophies  of  genius  which  his  love 
has  consecrated,  when  gathered  to  illustrate  his  truth  ! The  recoil  of  the 
world’s  free  spirits  from  the  civic  tyranny  of  Papacy,  has  blinded  too  many 
to  what  is  essentially  good  and  true  in  her  customs.  When  we  meet  the 
idea  dissevered  from  all  incidental  prejudice,  the  attempt  to  set  forth  what 
is  most  touching  in  the  Christian  faith,  in  melody  that  wraps  the  soul  in  a 
holy  trance,  or  in  forms  and  colors  that  bring  worthily  before  the  eye  exam- 
ples that  cheer  or  soften,  or  purify  the  weary  and  cold  affedlions,  does  it 
not  commend  itself  to  reason?  It  is  in  vain  for  a few  peculiar,  though  it 
may  be  superior  minds,  to  legislate  for  humanity.  We  must  look  at  our 
race  objectively,  and  not  merely  through  our  individual  consciousness. 
They  are  destined  to  receive  good,  not  according  to  any  partial  theories, 
but  by  the  observance  of  universal  laws,  by  reverently  consulting  the  wants, 
capacities,  and  principles  that  are  traced  in  the  very  organization  of  man 
by  the  hand  of  Creative  wisdom.  Thus  regarded,  is  it  not  obvious  that 
through  the  senses  we  must  reach  the  soul — that  the  abstrad  must  be 
made  real— that  sensation  is  the  channel  of  spirituality  ? Why  runs  there 
through  the  frame  this  delicate  and  complex  web  of  nerves  ? Why  do  eye 
and  ear  take  in  impressions  which  stir  the  very  fountains  of  emotion,  and 
gradually  mould  the  charadfer  ? Why  are  brain  and  heart  filled  and  elec- 
trified by  Art  ? Is  it  not  because  she  is  the  interpreter  of  life,  the  medium 
through  which  we  are  more  conscious  everlastingly  of  high  and  vast  desti- 
nies ? Argue  and  moralize  as  bigots  may,  they  cannot  impugn  the  design 
of  God  in  creating  a distindl  and  most  influential  faculty  in  our  nature, 
which  has  not  merely  a useful  or  temporary  end — the  sense  of  the  beauti- 
ful. Ideality  is  as  much  a heaven-implanted  element  as  conscientiousness. 
Nature’s  surpassing  grandeur  and  loveliness  hourly  minister  to  it,  and  Art, 
in  its  broadest  and  highest  sense,  is  its  legitimate  manifestation.  When  a 
human  voice  of  marvellous  depth  and  sweetness  yields  to  thousands  a pure 
and  rich  delight,  or  a human  hand  of  ideal  skill  traces  scenes  of  grace  and 
sublimity,  and  bequeathes  the  features  hallowed  by  love  or  glorified  by  fame, 
—then  is  the  worthiest  praise  offered  to  God  by  the  right  and  sacred  exer- 
cise of  those  faculties  which  unite  mortal  to  angelic  existence.  Far,  then, 
be  from  every  liberal  mind  and  feeling  heart  the  idea  that  genuine  art  can 
ever  profane  religion,  that  the  symbol  must  necessarily  shroud  the  fadt, 
that  in  seizing  on  any  intermediate  links  of  the  golden  chain  which  binds 
us  to  eternity,  as  with  our  frailty  and  limited  vision  we  are  ever  fain  to  do, 
any  serious  alienation  is  threatened  to  what  is  adtual  in  faith  or  desirable 
in  sentiment.  As  long  as  we  have  senses,  they  must  be  represented  ; and 
there  is  far  less  danger  of  our  being  enthralled  to  images  or  ideas  of  any 


330 


American  Artist  Life. 

kind  than  to  interest,  the  basest  and  most  subjugating  as  well  as  universal 
of  idolatries. 

In  1850  there  was  an  exhibition  in  New  York,  opened  at  the  earnest 
invitation  and  by  the  special  efforts  of  Huntington’s  friends — of  all  his 
works  that  could  be  obtained  for  the  purpose  ; among  those  who  signed  the 
request  were  Bryant,  Rev.  Dr.  Taylor,  Verplanck,  and  Rev.  Dr.  Bethune  ; 
of  the  artists,  Gray,  Brown,  Ingham,  and  Durand, — with  such  gentlemen 
as  Chs.  M.  Leupp,  Evert  A.  Duyckinck,  Sami,  B.  Ruggles,  John  Jay,  J.  P. 
Cronkhite,  Jonathan  Sturgis,  Benj.  D.  Silliman,  etc.  These  names 
indicate  the  kind  of  personal  regard  felt  for  the  artist ; while  the  catalogue 
of  the  pictures  exhibited  gives  ample  evidence  of  the  scope  of  Hunting- 
ton’s artistic  taste  and  faculty.  “ Ichabod  Crane  flogging  a Scholar  ” and 
“A  Bar-Room  Politician”  are  followed  by  serious  historical  compositions, 
landscapes,  and  portraits.  Of  the  former,  “ The  Rondout  Hill — Twilight,” 
“ Shawangunk  Mountain-Lake,”  Little  Falls  on  the  Passaic,”  “ A Wood- 
land Scene,”  “A  View  on  the  Ramapo,”  “Coast  near  Newport,”  “A 
Swiss  Lake,”  “Recollections  of  Italy,”  and  “View  in  St.  James’ Park, 
London,”  suggest  a wide  range  of  local  landscape  ; of  the  portraits, 
that  of  Miss  Harriet  Whiting,  afterwards  Mrs.  W.  F.  Brooks  ; of  an  “ Old 
Gentleman  Reading,” — the  artist’s  father  ; and  another,  of  the  latter’s  ven- 
erable sister  ; that  of  Hon.  J.  N.  Dexter,  belonging  to  Hamilton  College, 
and  of  a “ Florentine  Girl,  ” very  beautiful,  and  engraved  by  Cheney  ; that 
of  a “ Painter’s  Daughter” — his  friend  Inman’s,  full  of  rich  expression  ; and 
“ A Sybil,”  studied  in  Florence  and  engraved  by  Casilaer  for  the  American 
Art-Union — are  among  the  heads  which  gave  Huntington  so  high  a repu- 
tation for  portraiture  ; while  such  works  as  the  “ Lover’s  Surprise,”  “ Shep- 
herd Boy  of  the  Campagna,”  “ Christian  Prisoners,”  “ Mercy’s  Dream,” 
“ Christiana  and  her  Children,”  “ The  Woman  of  Samaria,”  “ Roman  Pen- 
itents,” “ The  Communion  of  the  Sick,”  “Alms-Giving,”  “ Preciosa  before 
the  Archbishop  and  Cardinal,”  “ Lady  Jane  Grey  and  the  Abbot  Fecken- 
ham  in  the  Tower,”  “ Mercy  fainting  at  the  Wicket  Gate,”  “ Henry  VIII. 
and  Oueen  Catherine  Parr,”  “ Piety  and  Folly,”  “ Lady  Jane  Grey  dis- 
turbed at  her  Devotions,”  “ Bishop  Ridley  denouncing  the  Princess  Mary,” 
“ The  Signing  of  Lady  Jane  Grey’s  Death-Warrant,”  “The  Marys  at  the 
Sepulchre,”  and  “ St.  John  the  Evangelist,”  are  remarkable  both  in  number 
subjedt,  and  character,  as  the  elaborate,  finished  productions  of  the  same 
period  when,  in  comic,  genre,  landscape,  and  portrait  painting,  he  achieved 
such  eminence.  In  the  latter  sphere  should  be  noted  Huntington’s  heads 
of  scientific  men,  designed  for  a group,  which  was  never  completed, 
as  the  commission  was  withdrawn,  but  not  until  several  fine  studies  had 
been  finished  ; among  them  heads  of  Professors  Silliman,  Hare,  Agassiz, 
Morse,  and  Gibbs,  and  General  Swift.  Huntington’s  portrait  of  the  vener- 
able Gulian  C.Verplanck,  of  Mrs.  Isaac  Bell,  of  a “ Roman  Girl,”  of  a “ Group 
of  Three  Children  playing  with  Cherries  in  a Straw  Hat,”  of  Rev.  Cleve- 
land Coxe,  of  Mrs.  Huntington,  of  Guy  Richards,  of  Chancellor  Kent,  of 
Sir  Charles  Eastlake  and  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  of  R.  B.  Minturn 


Huntington.  331 

and  Dr.  Muhlenberg  of  New  York,  may  be  cited  as  among  the  characteristic 
and  pleasing  works  in  this  department  of  native  art.  He  has  lately  com- 
pleted a picture  which  represents  Portia  before  the  Council,  of  which  a 
critic  says  : “ While  the  picture  is  finished  with  all  the  delicacy  and  care 
which  has  distinguished  so  many  of  the  French  painters,  and  while  it  is 
exquisite  in  tone  and  harmonious  arrangement  of  color,  yet  it  is  more 
remarkable  in  the  beauty  of  womanly  tenderness  with  which  the  artist  has 
inspired  the  face  of  his  heroine.  It  is  the  first  “ Portia  ” we  have  ever  seen 
who  might  have  thought  and  delivered  the  apostrophe  to  Mercy.” 

His  portraits  of  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  and  Sir  Charles  Eastlake  belong  to 
the  N.  Y.  Historical  Society;  his  “Tribute  Money”  to  the  estate  of  W. 
Curtis  Noyes,  Esq.  ; “ The  Woman  of  Samaria,”  to  ex-Governor  Morgan, 
of  New  York  ; “ Ichabod  Crane  and  Katrina,”  to  W.  PI.  Osborne,  Esq.,  of 
New  York  ; his  portrait  of  R.  B.  Minturn,  to  St.  Luke’s  Hospital ; of  Bry- 
ant, to  J.  Lorimer  Graham,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; of  President  Lincoln,  to 
the  N.  Y.  Union  League  Club  ; of  G.  C.  Verplanck,  to  the  N.  Y.  Commis- 
sioners of  Emigration  ; the  “ Counterfeit  Note,”  to  R.  M.  Olyphant,  Esq. ; 
and  the  “Republican  Court,”  to  A.  T.  Stewart,  of  New  York.  Jonathan 
Sturgis,  Esq.,  has  his  “ Sleeping  Girl,”  and  “ Roman  Model ;”  A.  M. 
Cozzens,  Esq.,  his  “ Sacred  Lesson  ” and  the  original  sketch  of  “ Mercy’s 
Dream  ; ” Henry  C.  Carey,  of  Philadelphia,  his  “ Christiana  and  her 
Children  his  portrait  of  Van  Buren  is  in  the  State  Library  at  Albany; 
those  of  Governor  Morgan,  and  Mayors  Duane,  Varick,  and  Livingston, 
in  the  City  Hall,  New  York.  James  Lenox,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  owns  his 
“Columbus,”  and  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  his  replicas 
of  “Mercy’s  Dream”  and  the  “Good  Samaritan;”  also  his  “ Ruins  of 
Rome,”  “ Lady  Jane  Grey,”  “ Fair  Sketcher,”  “ Old  Lawyer,”  “ Venice,” 
“ Mountain  Tops,”  “ In  the  Woods,”  and  full-length  “ Portrait  of  a Lady.” 
In  Huntington’s  aim  there  is  something  that  revives  to  the  imagination 
that  noble  band  of  artists  who  so  gloriously  illustrated  religion  in  the 
palmy  days  of  the  Church.  His  figures  generally  have  the  roundness 
which  distinguishes  several  of  the  best  Italian  masters,  and  his  tints  are 
subdued  and  harmonized  like  many  of  the  favorite  pictures  both  of  the 
Roman  and  Tuscan  schools.  Another  incidental  analogy  may  be  found 
in  the  circumstance  that  in  several  of  his  pictures  the  same  female  physi- 
ognomy is  discoverable.  The  eye  is  gratified,  without  being  perplexed, 
by  a chaste  tone  and  judicious  combination  of  hues.  His  draperies  do  not 
take  the  place  of,  but  only  cover  his  forms.  We  recognize  the  bosom 
under  the  tunic  and  the  arm  within  the  sleeve.  A striking:  merit  in  his 
compositions  is  their  simplicity.  There  is  an  academic  tone  about  him  ; 
and  he  is  a legitimate  admirer  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  Several  of  his 
happiest  efforts  consist  of  two  or  three  figures  of  half-length  life-size — a 
species  of  painting  admirably  fitted  to  embellish  the  walls  of  our  dwellings, 
where  more  ambitious  specimens  would  be  out  of  place.  This  singleness 
of  purpose  and  absence  of  complexity  in  design  render  his  works  at  once 
intelligible,  and  on  this  account  they  convey  a more  decided,  lasting,  and 


American  Artist  Life. 


entire  impression.  Take,  for  instance,  the  “ Sacred  Lesson.”  An  old 
man,  with  lofty  and  wrinkled  brow,  venerable  beard,  and  an  expression  of 
calm  and  holy  wisdom,  is  pointing  to  an  open  missal,  and  as  he  speaks — 
what  we  feel  to  be  words  of  divine  meaning — a beautiful  girl,  with  an 
ingenuous  and  innocent  countenance,  from  which  beams  a look  of  meek 
inquiry  and  sweet  confidence,  gazes  and  listens  in  devout  attention.  It  is 
evident  that  to  that  fair  creature  the  lesson  is,  indeed,  sacred ; and  that  to 
her  teacher  may  be  applied  the  description  which  a late  poet*  gives  of  the 
lover  of  the  “ Sexton’s  Daughter  ” — 

“Yet  could  he  temper  love  and  meekness 
With  all  the  sacred  might  of  law, 

Dissevering  gentleness  from  weakness, 

And  hallowing  tenderness  by  awe.” 


Similar  in  kind,  though  various  in  degree,  is  the  usual  influence  of 
Huntington’s  pictures.  He  does  not  always  do  himself  justice,  and  his 
sketches  are  often  more  illustrative  of  his  taste  than  his  elaborate  paint- 
ings. In  characterizing  his  style  we  allude  to  his  best  efforts,  and  the 
evident  tendency  of  his  mind.  They  breathe  a spirit  which,  in  this  busy 
and  eager  country,  amid  the  warfare  of  trade  and  politics,  seems  to  us 
peculiarly  desirable.  When,  from  the  anxious  mart  or  the  thronged  arena, 
the  American  citizen  retires  to  his  home,  the  exciting  battle-pieces  of  Sal- 
vator or  the  festive  scenes  of  the  Flemish  limners,  however  admirable  in 
themselves,  bring  not  precisely  the  refreshment  he  needs,  and  which  art 
can  so  genially  bestow.  It  is  well  for  his  eye  to  rest  upon  some  aspect  of 
humanity  calmer  and  more  exalted.  It  is  needful  that  the  privacy  of  his 
domestic  retreat  should  be  hallowed  by  images  of  serene  truth,  indicative 
of  repose  and  hope — not  that  “ stick  at  nothing,  Herodias’-daughter  kind 
of  grace,”  but  tranquil,  contemplative  subjects,  “the  brow  all  wisdom,  and 
the  lips  all  love.”  The  pleasurable  and  soothing  contrasts  thus  afforded 
between  life  and  art,  the  holy  efficiency  of  the  latter  in  cooling  the  fevered 
pulse  and  awakening  the  heart  to  better  aims  and  a nobler  faith,  are  finely 
illustrated  by  painters  who,  like  the  subjedl  of  this  notice,  seem  to  whisper 
in  their  tone  of  mind,  personal  character,  and  ideal  of  art — “ to  be  spirit- 
ually minded  is  life  eternal.”  And  the  silent  guests,  offspring  of  such  lives, 
with  their  beautiful  teachings,  their  unobtrusive  inspiration,  their  familiar 
grace,  make  the  loneliest  room  a temple,  and  yield  some  of  the  choicest 
joys  of  society,  without  the  chilliness  of  etiquette,  or  the  wearisome 
demands  of  vanity.  Like  Ophelia  and  Cordelia,  they  put  us  on  a sweet 
track  of  musing ; and  if  it  be  true,  as  has  been  said,  that  the  strength  of 
virtue  is  serenity  of  mind,  the  artists  who  work  in  this  spirit  are  genuine 
priests  of  humanity,  and  oracles  of  God. 


* Sterling. 


LE  UTZE. 


N the  summer  of  1837,  a young  though  baffled  enthusiast 
was  roaming  amid  the  picturesque  scenery  of  Virginia. 
He  had  gone  thither  from  the  Capital,  where  an  enterprise 
which  seemed  to  offer  at  least  the  means  of  immediate 
subsistence,  if  not  the  promise  of  future  distinction,  had 
failed.  He  was  the  son  of  an  honest  but  stern  mechanic, 
born  in  a small  town  in  southern  Germany.  At  a very  early  age,  the 
political  discontent  of  his  father  induced  the  removal  of  his  family  to 
the  United  States,  and  Philadelphia  became  their  home.  The  imagination 
of  the  youth  was  already  tinged  with  the  romantic  legends  of  his  father- 
land  ; and  he  brought  to  the  new  world  a dreamy  habit  of  mind,  and  many 
vague  but  ardent  fancies,  that  gradually  shaped  themselves  into  longings 
for  the  unattained,  and  visions  of  renown.  A boyhood  of  comparative 
seclusion  and  desultory  reading,  fostered  these  tendencies  ; and  the  most 
commonplace  objeCts  were  grouped  and  colored  in  his  reveries,  according 
to  dramatic  suggestions.  From  this  state  of  mind  he  was  painfully  awak- 
ened by  the  claims  of  filial  duty,  and  the  reflections  which  occupied  the 
long  vigils  by  his  father’s  death-bed  led  him  to  resolve  upon  the  profes- 
sion of  an  artist,  as  that  for  which  by  nature  and  inclination  he  was  best 
adapted.  His  early  attempts  were  rude  portraits,  which  succeeded  only 
on  account  of  their  obvious  resemblance  to  the  originals,  although  in  one 
instance  the  head  of  a bull-dog  was  considered  a far  better  likeness  than 
that  of  his  master.  At  length,  with  the  avidity  natural  to  the  occasion,  he 
set  about,  for  the  first  time,  what  he  deemed  worthy  to  be  called  a picture. 
It  was  based  upon  the  memory  of  a colored  print  after  Westall.  Too 
impatient  to  wait  for  the  colors  to  dry  before  giving  the  final  touches,  the 
young  artist  placed  it  near  the  fire  and  went  out,  anticipating  the  surprise 
of  the  friends  he  intended  to  summon,  when  his  work  was  completed  ; — 
on  his  return  it  was  burned  to  a blister.  The  misfortune  was  not,  how- 
ever, without  its  consolations,  for,  though  obscured,  it  was  not  annihilated  ; 
— indeed,  the  fire  had  produced  something  of  the  effeCt  for  which  many 
paintings  are  indebted  to  time,  and  his  critics  found  no  difficulty  in  recogniz- 
ing many  obscure  but  undoubted  evidences  of  rich  promise  : they  encouraged 
the  youth,  but  it  was  years  before  he  ventured  upon  a similar  experiment. 


334 


American  Artist  Life. 


On  the  contrary,  he  wisely  turned  his  attention  with  zeal  to  the  rudiments 
of  his  art,  and  made  great  progress  under  the  instruction  of  a drawing- 
master  of  acknowledged  merit.  The  result  was,  that  his  next  portraits, 
when  exhibited  by  the  Artists’  Fund  Society,  won  encomiums  from  com- 
petent judges,  and  led  a publisher  to  engage  him  to  paint  the  heads  of  our 
leading  statesmen,  to  be  engraved  for  a national  work.  It  was  in  the  pro- 
secution of  this  design  that  he  visited  Washington.  Our  busy  politicians 
could  not  at  that  period  afford  the  time  to  give  the  artist  the  requisite  sit- 
tings. His  wants  were  pressing,  and  his  experience  limited  ; it  is  not, 
therefore,  to  be  wondered  at  that,  after  a few  months,  he  abandoned  the 
projedl,  and  went  into  Virginia,  to  soothe  his  disappointed  feelings  by  com- 
munion with  nature  and  reviving  the  dreams  of  his  boyhood.  These  mus- 
ings  were,  however,  no  longer  wholly  pleasurable.  He  had  been  brought 
into  contaCl  with  reality,  thrown  suddenly  upon  his  own  resources,  and 
obliged  to  compare  experimentally  the  ideal  and  the  aCtual.  In  addition  to 
a bitter  sense  of  the  hard  laws  of  necessity — a lesson  that  the  world  had 
taught  him — he  was  now  in  the  very  bosom  of  that  Nature  to  which  he 
had  fled  as  to  a mother’s  arms,  made  keenly  to  realize  how  inadequate  is 
Art,  even  when  a mastery  is  obtained  over  her  mechanical  principles,  to 
express  what  filled  his  imagination  and  glowed  in  his  heart.  Thus  the 
avenues  of  life  seemed  closed  to  him,  both  in  its  practical  and  its  imagi- 
native development.  In  an  aim  directed  by  regard  to  the  wants  of  the 
time  and  people,  and  having  subsistence  chiefly  for  its  objeCt,  he  had  been 
quite  unsuccessful ; and  when  lie  sought  for  relief  in  achievements  born 
of  individual  genius  and  enthusiasm,  an  almost  fatal  self-distrust  palsied 
his  will.  To  all  intelligent  and  sensitive  minds  this  epoch  of  existence  is 
well  known.  To  all  such  it  must  inevitably  occur.  It  was  a kind  of 
“ temptation  in  the  desert”  to  our  youthful  painter.  He  desponded,  but 
he  was  too  heroic  wholly  to  despair.  A gentleman,  whose  rich  domain  he 
chanced  to  approach  in  his  wayward  rovings,  perceived  his  ability,  under- 
stood his  unhappiness,  and  aroused  him  from  inaCtion  by  a call  upon  his  pro- 
fessional skill.  The  artist  obeyed,  but  he  could  not  subdue  the  mood 
which  possessed  him.  No  brilliant  scene  arose  to  his  fancy,  no  humorous 
incident  took  form  and  color  from  his  pencil,  and  the  fair  landscape  around 
appeared  to  mock  rather  than  cheer  his  destiny.  He  could  not  bring  him- 
self into  relation  with  subjects  thus  breathing  of  hope  and  gayety,  but 
found  inspiration  only  in  the  records  of  human  sorrow.  As  the  royal 
mourner  bade  her  companions  “sit  upon  the  ground  and  tell  sad  stories 
of  the  death  of  kings,”  the  pensive  artist  found  something  analogous  to 
his  own  fate  in  the  story  of  Hagar  and  Ishmael.  He  painted  them  as 
having  followed  up  a spent  watercourse,  in  hopes  of  finding  wherewith  to 
quench  their  thirst,  and  sinking  under  the  disappointment.  He  neither 
saw  nor  painted  the  angel  of  God  who  showed  the  fountain  in  the  wilder- 
ness ; and  yet  the  angel  was  there,  for  now  the  sufferer  acknowledges  that 
early  vicissitudes  nerved  him  for  high  endeavor,  rendered  his  vision  pierc- 
ing, his  patience  strong,  and  his  confidence  firm  ; and  that  this  incidental 


Leutze.  335 

effort  to  triumph  over  difficulties,  was  the  first  of  a series  which  inspired 
his  subsequent  career. 

Emmanuel  Leutze  was  born  at  the  village  of  Emingen,  near  the  city  of 
Reuthingen,  in  Wiirtemberg,  May  24,  1816.  To  beguile  the  leisure  mo- 
ments while  attending  upon  his  invalid  father,  he  amused  himself  with 
drawing.  His  picture  of  “An  Indian  gazing  at  the  Setting  Sun,”  evinced 
a higher  than  merely  imitative  talent ; and  in  1841  he  had  orders  sufficient 
to  warrant  a visit  to  Europe.  Having  entered  the  Dusseldorf  Academy  as  a 
pupil  of  Lessing,  he  soon  acquired  a name  in  historical  art — the  branch  to 
which  all  his  tastes  and  talent  inclined  ; and  thenceforth  he  never  lacked 
liberal  commissions  from  this  side  of  the  ocean.  A series  of  dramatically  con- 
ceived and  historically  elaborated  pictures  followed  in  rapid  succession  ; 
some  from  their  native,  and  others  for  their  ancient  significance  and  associa- 
tions, won  popular  favor  : among  them  were  “ Columbus  before  the  Queen,” 
“ Columbus  at  Barcelona,”  “ Landing  of  the  Norsemen  in  America,” 
“ Cromwell  and  his  Daughter,”  “ The  Court  of  Queen  Elizabeth,”  “ The 
Iconoclast,”  “ The  Flight  of  the  Puritans,”  “Henry  VI I Land  Anne  Boleyn,” 
“ Knox  and  Mary  Stuart,”  and  “ The  Attainder  of  Stafford.”  In  the  mean- 
time Leutze  visited  Italy,  the  principal  German  cities,  and  the  United 
States,  improving  to  the  utmost  his  opportunities  for  study.  It  is  easy  to 
trace  the  influence  of  Kaulbach’s  powerful  expression,  Titian’s  color,  and 
the  aCtive,  energetic  spirit  of  our  young  republic  in  the  successive  works  of 
Leutze.  He  gained  renewed  favor  at  home  by  the  spirited  illustrations  of 
Washington’s  career  which  came  so  fresh  and  dramatic  from  his  pencil  ; — 
having  delineated  the  peerless  chief  at  Monmouth,  at  Princeton,  crossing 
the  Delaware,  and  in  other  memorable  scenes  of  the  Revolutionary  drama  ; 
his  “Sergeant  jasper,”  “News  from  Lexington,”  and  “Mrs.  Schuyler 
Firing  the  Wheat-Fields,”  are  popular  and  effective  works.  Leutze  mar- 
ried  in  Germany  the  daughter  of  an  army  officer  ; and  in  1859  returned  to 
the  United  States,  where  a government  commission  and  numerous  private 
orders  awaited  him.  After  some  years  of  assiduous  application,  he  went 
abroad  for  his  family ; and  the  estimation  in  which  he  is  held  among  his 
old  companions  in  art  and  good-fellowship,  is  indicated  by  the  reception  he 
met  with  at  Dusseldorf  on  his  arrival  there  June  10,  1863. 

“About  one  hundred  and  fifty  artists  and  lovers  of  art,”  says  a journal 
of  the  day,  “assembled  at  the  1 Mahlkasten,’  just  outside  of  the  Hof-Gar- 
ten.  This  is  the  club-house  of  the  painters,  and,  with  its  gardens,  is  their 
property.  Leutze  was  received  with  music,  and  when  he  came  within  reach 
of  the  assembled  company,  there  was  a general  rush  to  shake  his  hands, 
kiss  his  cheeks,  and  hug  him.  The  old  fellows  were  much  affeCted  at  the 
scene,  and  were  heartily  glad  to  see  their  old  companion  once  more.  The 
guest  made  a short  and  feeling  address,  whereupon  all  went  in  to  supper. 
Here,  two  of  the  artists  had  arrayed  themselves,  one  as  a negro,  the  other 
as  an  Indian  ; and  these  brought  in  the  first  dishes,  and  handed  them  to 
Leutze.  Andreas  Achenbach  sat  at  Leutze’s  right,  and  his  old  friend  Tryt 
at  his  left.  After  dinner  the  calumet  of  peace  was  passed  around  ; there 


336 


American  Artist  Life. 

was  speaking  and  drinking  of  healths,  with  songs  afterwards  in  the  illumi- 
nated garden.  The  occasion  appears  to  have  been  a very  pleasant  and 
right  merry  one,  and  is  said  to  have  been  the  happiest  festival  ever  given 
by  the  society  of  artists.” 

The  versatility  and  vigor  of  his  pencil  were  well  illustrated  by  the  sub- 
jects and  execution  of  some  of  his  pictures  which  were  sold  just  before  his 
last  departure  for  Europe  ; they  consisted  of  such  works  as  had  employed 
the  intervals  of  his  leisure,  while  at  work  on  portraits  and  the  commissions 
he  had  received  and  fulfilled  during  his  last  visit  to  this  country  ; the  comic 
and  the  tragic,  studies  from  nature  and  historical  compositions  were  included 
in  the  catalogue  which  embraced  sketches  and  finished  works — such  as  “ La- 
fayette met  by  his  Family  in  the  Prison  of  Olmutz,”  “ Spray  and  Bubbles,” 
a picture  which  to  the  casual  observer  will  be  simply  a delineation  of  the 
sea  breaking  upon  the  shore,  but  which,  if  he  studies  it  closely,  will  resolve 
itself  into  an  army  of  water-spirits  battling  against  the  rocks,  only  to  be 
beaten  back  or  cast  up  with  the  surf  upon  the  shore  ; “ Unexpected  Friends,” 
representing  a wounded  knight,  imprisoned  in  a tower  by  a neighboring 
prince,  who  has  entrapped  him  while  on  the  chase,  and  now  holds  him 
confined  until  ransomed — his  daughter  is  with  him,  and  the  “unexpected 
friends”  appear  in  the  shape  of  a Robin  Goodfellow  and  his  raven,  who, 
having  found  their  way  into  the  prison  from  above,  by  a rope-ladder,  are 
ready  to  effect  their  deliverance  ; “ Prairie  Bluffs,”  depicting  a herd  of  half- 
tamed  horses  being  driven  into  camp  before  the  coming  storm  breaks — the 
yellow  Huffs  of  the  prairie  are  seen  in  the  background,  relieved  against  the 
stormy  sky  ; “ Ichabod  Crane  and  the  Headless  Horseman,”  illustrating 
a well-known  story  in  Irving’s  Sketch-Book  ; “The  Deserted  Hall,”  “En- 
tertaining the  Messenger,”  and  “ Tired  of  Waiting,”  each  architectural  in 
its  character,  and  fine  examples  of  the  artist’s  power  in  this  line  ; a 
“Gentleman  of  the  Time  of  Charles  II.,”  and  a “German  Knight,”  be- 
sides the  original  sketch  in  oil  of  the  historical  picture,  “ Emigration  to  the 
West,”  in  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  and  several  study  heads  of  females 
in  the  same  work. 

Leutze  found  a great  change  in  the  prospects  of  art  and  the  position  of 
artists  in  this  country  upon  returning  hither  after  twenty  years’  residence 
abroad.  The  contrast  between  the  public  taste  and  private  encouragement 
then  and  now  is  indeed  remarkable.  A field  for  historical  art  had  opened 
in  the  New  World,  and  as  Leutze  left  home  because  he  found  no  adequate 
scope  and  inspiration,  he  returned  when  both  were  ample.  The  most  ex- 
tensive work  recently  executed  is  the  picture  which  adorns  the  panel 
of  the  south-western  staircase  in  the  new  wing  of  the  Capitol  at  Washing- 
ton ; it  celebrates  a primary  cause  of  our  national  growth — Western  Emi- 
gration. The  following  is  a description  of  the  work,  and  will  give  a gen- 
eral idea  of  its  method  and  effeCt  : — 

“ An  emigrant  party,  travel-stained  and  weary,  who  for  long  weeks  have 
toiled  on  in  the  face  of  formidable  difficulties  over  the  vast  plains  on  the 
hither  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  have  reached,  near  sundown,  the 


Leutze. 


337 


point  whence  the  waters  flow  in  the  direction  they  themselves  are  going, 
and  from  which  they  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  vast  Pacific  slope — their 
land  of  promise.  El  Dorado,  indeed  ; for  earth  and  sky  and  mountain 
peaks  are  bathed  in  the  golden  glow  of  the  setting  sun.  On  the  left  of  the 
pidture,  leagues  away  in  the  dim  distance,  a faint  line  on  the  horizon  reveals 
the  western  ocean  ; on  the  right,  the  eye  follows  a rolling  prairie  to  the 
base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains — a link  in  the  vast  chain  which  stretches 
through  both  Americas.  A wagon-train  labors  up  the  slope,  and  as  it  jolts 
over  the  rough  way,  worn  with  gullies  and  obstructed  with  rocks,  is  with 
difficulty  saved  from  upsetting  by  the  broad  shoulders  and  strong  arms  of 
the  party  in  charge.  Above,  on  the  highest  point  of  rock,  some  of  the 
younger  of  the  western-bound  pilgrims  are  planting  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 
Below,  and  nearer  to  the  spectator,  a frontier  farmer  and  his  family  are 
grouped  on  a broad  flat  rock.  The  suffering  mother,  with  her  infant  in  her 
arms,  has  been  carried  thither  by  her  husband  to  view  the  glories  of  the 
promised  land  which  stretches  before  them.  Their  boy,  a type  of  ‘Young 
America,’  with  characteristic  outfit,  consisting  of  his  father’s  rifle,  a news- 
paper, a string,  and  a jack-knife,  stands  by,  musing  upon  the  future.  His 
little  sister  cheers  with  expressions  of  childish  surprise  and  delight  her 
care-worn  mother,  who  sits  with  her  folded  hands,  thankful  for  dangers 
that  are  past,  and  longing  for  the  rest  and  quiet  that  are  to  come  in  their 
new  home.  In  the  ravine  below  axemen  are  clearing  the  road  of  fallen 
timber.  Above  them,  seated  upon  his  horse,  which  he  rests  the  while,  and 
pointing  the  way  that  lies  before  them,  is  the  guide — an  old  trapper  clad 
in  robes  of  buckskin.  Next  to  him  is  a young  adventurer,  who,  as  his 
horse  strains  up  the  last  slope  of  the  rock,  rises  in  the  stirrups  to  catch 
the  first  glimpse  of  the  pleasant  land  beyond.  He  is  followed  by  another 
of  the  same  class,  who  is  cheering  on  the  rest  of  the  party.  Each  has  his 
necessary  outfit  strapped  on  his  horse — lariat,  meal-bag,  frying-pan,  coffee- 
pot, extra  blankets,  and  shoes. 

“ Above  these  figures  a youthful  vagrant,  with  a fiddle  slung  across  his 
back,  is  assisting  his  equally  youthful  partner  in  life  up  to  the  rock,  that 
she  may  peep  at  what  lies  beyond.  They  are  careless  and  happy,  in  spite 
of  their  scanty  equipment. 

“ Below  these,  mounted  on  a mule  which  is  led  by  a negro  boy,  is  a mother, 
who  kisses,  with  tears  of  joy  in  her  eyes,  the  babe  on  her  bosom.  She 
thinks  of  the  meeting  with  him  who  has  gone  before  them.  Next  to  her 
a rough  but  good-hearted  hunter  of  the  border  is  helping  a lad  over  the 
rocky  path,  who  has  been  wounded — perhaps  in  some  skirmish  with  hostile 
Indians.  Immediately  in  the  rear  is  a wagon  drawn  by  a team  of  oxen,  in 
which  sits  a young  mother,  straining  her  eyes  to  look  at  the  level  land 
which  glimmers  in  the  distance,  and  seemingly  in  doubt  whether  there  be 
not  other  troubles  ahead.  The  child  in  her  lap,  careless  of  all  that  is  going 
on  about  her,  is  ‘ turning  to  mirth  all  things  of  earth,  as  only  childhood 
can.’ 

“ In  the  ornamental  border,  which  is  intended  to  serve  merely  the  purpose 

22 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  a frame  or  margin  to  separate  the  picture  from  another,  the  artist  has 
interwoven  the  motto,  ‘‘  Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way,” 
with  figures  human  and  animal — a playful  introduction,  as  it  were,  to  the 
history  of  emigration. 

In  the  centre  of  the  upper  margin  the  eagle  shields  with  his  broad  wings 
Union  and  Liberty,  while  before  them  flees  the  stealthy  savage.  On  the 
left  is  the  axeman,  preceded  by  the  hunter,  whose  dog  has  attacked  a cata- 
mount. An  Indian  creeping  away  discharges  an  arrow  at  the  hunter.  On 
the  right  is  the  agriculturist  weeding  corn,  preceded  by  the  missionary. 
Next,  a prairie-owl  and  a rattlesnake  claiming  the  hospitality  of  a prairie- 
dog.  Before  them  the  Indian  skulks  away,  sheltering  himself  with  his 
robe. 

The  right-side  margin,  beginning  from  below,  shows  a child  watching 
the  flight  of  herons — Moses  leading  the  Israelites  through  the  desert— the 
raven  with  a loaf  in  his  bill — the  Hebrew  spies  bringing  fruits  from  Eshcol 
— a child  bearing  above  treasures  of  precious  stones,  gold,  etc. — Hercules 
dividing  the  Pillars  of  Gibraltar  to  open  the  path  to  the  Atlantic  ( plus 
ultra).  In  the  centre  of  this  margin  is  a portrait  of  Daniel  Boone. 

In  the  left-side  margin  is  a child  paddling  in  a tortoise-shell — gulls  and 
flying-fish — Arion  on  the  Dolphin — the  dove  with  olive  branch — sailor 
boy — argosy  of  the  Golden  Fleece  — child  with  fruits — the  wise  men  of  the 
East  following  the  star  to  the  West.  In  the  middle  of  this  margin  is  the 
portrait  of  Captain  Clark. 

The  lower  margin  contains  a view  of  the  Golden  Gate,  the  entrance  to 
the  harbor  of  San  Francisco. 

In  painting  his  picture  Mr.  Leutze  has  employed,  for  the  first  time  in 
this  country,  the  new  stereochromatic  process,  which  has  superseded  the 
fresco-painting  of  the  middle  ages. 

Another  work  of  Leutze  is  the  “Settlement  of  St.  Mary’s  by  Calvert.” 
Kennedy’s  interesting  novel,  “ Rob  of  the  Bowl,”  has  made  that  old 
colony  familiar  and  romantic.  The  moment  chosen  by  Leutze  is  when 
formal  possession  is  taken  of  the  country,  after  the  store-house  is  com- 
pleted to  receive  the  provisions  brought  over  by  the  emigrants  : its  brick 
walls  and  peaked  roof  are  visible  over  the  forest  trees,  which  are  just  bud- 
ding into  life  at  the  warm  touch  of  spring  ; the  atmosphere  is  clear  and 
bright ; the  ships  are  at  anchor  in  the  bay  ; Father  White  is  in  the  aCt  of 
blessing  the  domain  upon  which  the  cross  of  his  faith  is  already  planted  ; 
Calvert,  in  the  picturesque  costume  of  the  time,  stands  ready  to  confirm 
the  treaty  ; his  page  is  near  with  the  documents  in  hand  ; the  Indian 
Chief  is  also  by  ; aboriginal  women  bring  gifts  of  strawberries  and  game; 
a group  of  emigrants  ascend  the  slope  of  the  hill,  exuberant  at  landing 
after  so  long  a voyage,  and  driving  the  kine  before  them  ; sportsmen, 
mariners,  ladies,  children,  savages,  priest,  and  nobleman  combine  to  form 
a suggestive  and  picturesque  scene. 

Leutze’s  picture  of  “An  Indian  contemplating  the  Setting  Sun,”  gained 
for  him,  besides  general  praise,  the  permanent  friendship  of  the  late  Ed- 


Leutze. 


339 


ward  L.  Carey,  of  Philadelphia,  whose  kind  interest  manifested  itself  until 
his  death,  and  through  whose  influence  the  artist  received  an  amount  of 
commissions  sufficient  to  justify  his  embarkation  for  Europe.  After  a 
trying  voyage,  he  arrived  in  Amsterdam  in  January,  1841,  and  having 
viewed  the  principal  pictures  which  adorn  that  city,  he  hastened  to  Dus- 
seldorf.  He  had  heard  of  its  celebrated  school,  and  went  there  with  highly- 
raised  expectations,  which  were  amply  realized.  For  some  months  a 
greater  confusion  reigned  in  his  mind  than  he  had  ever  before  known,  in 
consequence  of  the  vast  number  of  fresh  ideas  which  he  then  imbibed. 
Gradually,  however,  they  arranged  themselves  into  order.  The  new-comer 
from  America  met  with  a warm  reception  from  the  artists,  and  Lessing 
offered  to  give  him  lessons.  He  soon  undertook  his  picture  of  “ Columbus 
before  the  Council  of  Salamanca.”  When  completed,  Director  V.  Scha- 
dow  called  to  see  it,  expressed  his  great  satisfaction,  and  requested  Leutze 
to  offer  it  to  the  Art-Union  of  Dusseldorf.  It  was  instantly  purchased  by 
that  institution,  and  this  high  compliment  to  the  genius  of  the  stranger 
was  rendered  infinitely  more  gratifying  by  the  universal  and  hearty  sym- 
pathy of  the  artists,  whose  uninterrupted  friendship  proves  their  sincerity. 

These  circumstances  sufficiently  account  for  Leutze’s  partiality  for  the 
German  school,  independent  of  that  affinity  which  may  be  supposed  inci- 
dent to  his  birth.  He  is  not,  however,  without  reasons  for  this  preference. 
“For  a beginner  in  the  arts,”  he  observes,  in  a letter,  “Dusseldorf 
is  probably  one  of  the  very  best  schools  now  in  existence,  and  has  edu- 
cated an  uncommon  number  of  distinguished  men.  The  brotherly  feeling 
which  exists  among  the  artists  is  quite  cheering,  and  only  disturbed  by 
their  speculative  dissensions.  Two  parties  divide  the  school — the  one 
affiliated  by  a severe  and  almost  bigoted  Catholic  tendency,  at  the  head 
of  which  stands  the  Direffior  of  the  Academy  ; and  the  other  by  a free  and 
essentially  Protestant  spirit,  of  which  Lessing  is  the  chief  representative. 
The  consistency  and  severity  in  the  mechanical  portion  of  the  art  taught 
at  this  school,  are  carried  into  the  theory,  and  have  led,  by  order  and 
arrangement,  to  a classification  of  the  subjeffis,  which  is  of  essential  ser- 
vice ; and  soon  confirmed  me  in  the  conviffiion  that  a thorough  poetical 
treatment  of  a piffiure  required  that  the  a7iecdote  should  not  be  so  much  the 
subjeffi,  as  the  means  of  conveying  some  one  clear  idea,  which  is  to  be  the 
inspiration  of  the  piffiure.  But  the  artist,  as  a poet,  should  first  form  the 
clear  thought  as  the  groundwork,  and  then  adopt  or  create  some  anecdote 
from  history  or  life,  since  painting  can  be  but  partially  narrative,  and  is 
essentially  a contemplative  art.” 

The  best  illustration  of  this  view  of  his  profession,  is  found  in  the  paint- 
ings of  Leutze,  which,  instead  of  merely  telling  a story,  have  a moral  sig- 
nificance— conveying  some  great  idea  of  chivalry,  as  in  the  Northmen  ; 
moral  dignity,  as  in  Columbus  ; loyalty  to  truth  or  faith,  as  in  Knox  and 
Queen  Mary. 

When  Leutze  visited  Munich,  he  considered  its  school  ot  painting  the 
best  in  the  world.  He  revelled  in  the  produffiions  of  Kaulbach,  of  Corne- 


340 


American  Artist  Life . 

lius,  and  the  many  ancient  specimens  collected  by  the  art-loving  king  of  the 
Bavarians.  He  felt,  in  studying  creations  like  these,  how  much  remained 
for  him  to  attain.  After  his  recent  constant  application,  there  was,  too,  a 
need  of  tranquillity.  He  knew  that  the  mind,  like  the  earth,  is  enriched  by 
lying  fallow,  and  determined  to  consecrate  a few  months  to  repose.  We 
have  already  spoken  of  his  wanderings  in  Virginia.  The  scene  of  his  next 
retirement  offered  a rich  contrast.  Having  finished  “ Columbus  before  the 
Queen,”  Leutze  took  advantage  of  some  casual  excuse  to  withdraw  himself 
awhile,  and  plunged  for  refreshment  into  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the  Sua- 
bian  Alps — a region  abounding  in  historical  interest,  and  full  of  remains 
of  the  architecture  of  the  middle  ages.  For  nearly  half  a year  he  loitered 
about  the  foot  of  the  Ilohenstaufen,  where  stood  the  castle  of  that  great 
race,  alike  romantic  in  its  rise  and  fall,  from  Barbarossa  to  the  ill-fated  Con- 
radin  of  Naples.  With  the  tone  of  mind  so  clearly  evinced  in  his  pictures, 
we  can  easily  imagine  what  food  for  contemplation  Leutze  found  amid 
these  trophies  of  the  past — memorials  of  the  strife  between  church  and 
state  that  agitated  civilized  Europe  for  centuries.  There  are  the  pictur- 
esque relics  of  the  free  cities,  with  their  gray  walls  and  frowning  towers,  in 
which  a few  hardy  burghers  bade  defiance  to  their  aristocratic  oppressors, 
and  gave  the  first  impulse  to  that  love  of  liberty  which  realized  itself,  after 
countless  vicissitudes,  in  the  institutions  of  that  far  western  land  so  dear  to 
the  affeCtions  of  the  pilgrim  of  art.  The  progress  of  Freedom  thus  repre- 
sented itself  in  pictures  to  his  mind,  forming  a long  cycle  from  the  first 
dawning  of  free  institutions  in  the  middle  ages,  to  the  Reformation — 
through  the  revolution  in  England,  the  causes  of  emigration,  including  the 
discovery  and  settlement  of  America,  her  early  protests  against  oppression 
— to  the  War  and  Declaration  of  Independence.  Leutze  has  given  us  some 
striking  illustrations  of  this  grand  series  of  events,  which  thus  arrayed 
themselves  to  his  fancy  amid  the  wild  scenery  and  feudal  remains  of  the 
Hohenstaufen,  into  a magnificent  epic  uttered  in  forms  and  colors  ; and  we 
earnestly  hope  that  he  will  forge  many  other  enduring  and  golden  links  of 
the  chain,  and  thus  make  the  effective  in  human  art  symbolize  the  glorious 
in  human  destiny.  Such  an  enterprise  accords  with  the  spirit  of  the  age 
infinitely  better  than  the  constant  and  tame  reproduction  of  obsolete 
ideas. 

Leutze  visited  every  city  between  this  region  and  the  Tyrol,  where  such 
views  might  find  nurture  and  expansion,  and  arrived  in  Venice  to  experience 
the  delight  with  which  that  unique  city  fills  every  poetic  mind — a charm,  we 
fear,  somewhat  dispelled  by  the  railroad,  which  divorces  the  fair  and 
venerable  queen  from  the  sea  forever.  Titian,  Veronese,  and  the  Bellinis, 
he  found  were  only  tc  be  known  face  to  face,  and  never  through  lifeless 
translation.  Fresh  as  he  was  from  the  North — to  use  his  own  expressive 
phrase — he  warmed  himself  in  the  sunshine  of  their  colors.  At  Bologna 
he  first  saw  an  undoubted  Raphael,  and  experienced  a strange  joy  as  he 
stood  before  the  St.  Cecilia.  tc  But  my  joy  was  much  impaired,”  he  writes, 
“ by  three  or  four  scaffolds  and  easels  with  miserable  daubs  that  were  to 


Leutze. 


34J 


be  sent  into  the  world  as  copies.  I soon  learned,  however,  by  after-expe- 
rience, that  scarcely  any  beautiful  picture  can  be  seen  in  Italy  except  through 
the  fretwork  of  half-a-dozen  easels.”  A want  of  sympathy  with  many  of 
the  subjects  of  art  in  Rome,  so  different  from  those  to  which  he  had  been 
devoted,  prevented  Leutze  from  enjoying  the  Eternal  City  with  the  enthu- 
siasm usual  to  artists.  He  could  not  readily  separate  the  execution  from 
the  subject,  though  impressed  with  the  genius  of  the  former.  He  chiefly 
admired  Michael  Angelo  for  his  power  and  individuality,  regarding  him  as 
the  prophet  of  the  future,  and  Raphael  as  an  exquisitely  beautiful  reflection 
of  the  past.  Here  Leutze  painted  the  Norsemen.  Through  Pisa,  Genoa, 
and  Milan,  he  went  to  Switzerland — his  powers  of  observation  constantly 
exercised — and  took  the  Rhine  at  Strasburg.  Absorbing  as  the  scenes 
of  his  pilgrimage  had  proved,  they  had  not  cast  into  the  shade  a beloved 
image,  which  made  him  greet  the  neighborhood  of  Dusseldorf  with 
emotion ; and  one  who  was  there  dear  to  him  soon  became  the  partner  of 
his  life. 

Few  pictures  at  one  of  the  exhibitions  of  the  National  Academy  attract- 
ed such  notice  as  u The  Landing  of  the  Northmen.”  It  gave,  perhaps, 
unqualified  pleasure  to  no  one,  but  interested  all  who  possessed  any  ade- 
quate sense  of  what  is  intrinsically  meritorious  in  art.  This  arose  natu- 
rally from  its  freedom  from  that  tameness  of  design  which  is  so  refreshing 
to  the  eye  weary  with  exploring  the  complacent  mediocrities  that  occupy 
so  large  a space  in  most  annual  exhibitions.  Pausing  before  this  picture, 
we  might,  at  all  events,  congratulate  ourselves  upon  having  a reality  to  look 
at.  “ Here,  at  least,”  we  could  say,  “is  no  timid  draughtsman,  no  flat  and 
superficial  attempt  ; the  man  who  did  this  was  no  shuffler ; he  was  not 
afraid  to  call  his  soul  his  own  ; he  had  something  decided  to  say  with  his 
colors  and  drawing,  and  he  has  said  it  very  emphatically,  and  we  are  much 
obliged  to  him  for  speaking  out  like  a man,  instead  of  mumbling.  We  like 
the  bold  style  of  his  address,  and  we  feel  at  once  that  whatever  may  be  his 
deficiencies  in  artistic  skill,  he  has  that  primal  and  absolute  claim  upon  our 
respeCt  and  affeCtion  which  consists  in  manhood — a quality  not  coexistent 
by  necessity  with  any  degree  of  talent  or  species  of  profession.”  “ The 
Landing  of  the  Northmen  ” is  doubtless  a very  extravagant  composition  ; 
there  is  something  almost  too  melodramatic  about  it.  The  position  of  the 
leader,  the  rushing  ardor  of  the  debarkation,  the  almost  supernatural  air 
of  the  figures,  strikes  us,  at  first,  as  incongruous.  Some  faults  of  execu- 
tion, too,  are  easily  discerned.  Yet  in  spite  of  these  objections,  the  pic- 
ture is  conceived  in  a fine  spirit.  We  must  enter  into  the  artist’s  idea  to 
enjoy  it.  Let  us  imagine,  then,  the  long  and  anxious  voyage  that  preceded 
this  arrival,  the  chivalric  character  of  that  race  so  well  suggested  by  the 
Norse  songs  of  Motherwell,  and  the  “ Skeleton  in  Armor”  of  Longfellow  ; 
imagine  them,  after  great  suspense  and  deprivation,  coming  in  sight  of  the 
promised  land,  about  to  exchange  the  dreary  ocean  for  the  safe  and  fertile 
precinCts  of  a tropical  isle  ! As  the  boat’s  keel  grazed  the  beach,  who,  with 
a spark  of  enthusiasm,  cannot  sympathize  with  the  leader  bearing  aloft  in 


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American  Artist  Life . 


his  huge  arms  the  bride  who  had  braved  the  deep  with  him,  arrayed  in  her 
queenly  attire,  her  fair  hair  floating  on  the  land-breeze,  and  her  blue  eyes 
dilated  with  triumph  ? Is  there  not  a beautiful  hint  of  the  “heart  of  cour- 
tesy ” in  the  woman’s  foot  pressed  upon  the  mariner’s  knee,  and  the  care 
bestowed  upon  the  old  mother  in  the  stern  ? Is  it  not  very  natural  that 
the  sea-worn  boy  should  clutch  at  the  overhanging  grapes  ? May  not  the 
quietude  in  the  expression  of  the  principal  female  figure  be  the  calm  of 
unutterable  joy  ? There  is  a noble  greeting  in  the  outstretched  arm  of  the 
chieftain  ; his  air  is  full  of  victorious  happiness,  as  if,  while  realizing  his 
daring  hopes — 


“Toward  the  shore  he  spread  his  arms 
As  if  the  expanded  soul  diffused  itself, 
And  carried  to  all  spirits  with  the  a6t 
Its  affluent  inspiration.” 


In  the  picture  of  Cromwell  and  his  Daughter,  we  find  a similar  incongruity 
in  the  detail  and  power  of  general  effeCt.  The  countenances  of  the  two 
are  assuredly  full  of  moral  expression — the  masculine  energy  of  the  Puri- 
tan woman  and  the  subdued  determination  of  her  father  tell  their  own 
story  with  dramatic  vividness  ; but  then  the  female’s  arm  is  that  of  a 
washerwoman — an  anatomical  absurdity.  “ Columbus  in  Chains  ” first 
gained  Leutze  a wide  renown  on  this  side  of  the  water.  When  sent  to  the 
great  exhibition  at  Brussels,  it  received  from  the  king  of  the  Belgians  the 
medal  a Vermeil , as  a “ Recompense  Nationale.”  One  of  the  pictures,  the 
most  characteristic  at  once  of  his  genius  and  artistic  skill,  is  that  repre- 
senting John  Knox  in  his  celebrated  interview  with  Queen  Mary.  The 
artist  could  scarcely  have  chosen  a subjeCt  more  happily  adapted  to  his 
powers.  The  varied  passions  enlisted  on  that  remarkable  occasion  are 
admirably  portrayed.  The  expression  of  the  queen  and  great  reformer  are 
given  with  singular  fidelity.  The  painter  has  greatly  heightened  the  dra- 
matic effeCt  of  the  whole  by  the  introduction  of  two  female  attendants,  one 
French  and  the  other  Scotch — the  one,  of  course,  astonished  at  the  heresy, 
and  perhaps  disgusted  at  the  assurance  of  Knox,  and  the  other  full  of  sym- 
pathy for  Mary.  Another  of  his  pictures  is  “ Columbus  before  the  Oueen.” 
We  have  heard  the  figure  of  the  latter  complained  of  as  wanting  grace,  but 
there  is  something  exceedingly  true  to  nature  in  the  contrast  between  her 
bearing  and  that  of  Ferdinand.  He  does  not  forget  himself,  but  listens 
with  loyal  self-possession  ; yet  is  cunning  suffered  to  betray  itself  in  the 
expression  of  his  motionless  features.  But  in  Isabella  the  woman  super- 
sedes the  queen.  There  is  a fine  abandonment  in  her  very  attempt  at  self- 
control,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  hand  presses  the  temples  is  part  of 
the  natural  language  of  subdued  feeling.  The  figure  of  Columbus  is  noble 
and  impressive. 

A more  recent  picture  is  the  “ First  Mass  of  Mary  Stuart  in  Scotland.” 

From  the  number  and  variety  of  subjects  we  have  indicated,  Leutze’s 
industry  may  be  inferred.  Perhaps,  indeed,  his  facility  and  technical  apti- 


Leutze. 


o /<  o 

tudes  militate  with  the  highest  results,  and  especially  where  any  deep 
sentiment  is  involved  ; the  needs  of  a large  family  have,  too,  sometimes 
hurried  Leutze’s  pencil,  and  often  he  has  done  injustice  to  himself  and  his 
subject  ; hence  the  critics  demur  at  the  adequacy  of  some  of  his  more  am- 
bitious attempts,  and  deprecate  the  haste  and  carelessness  which  circum- 
stances have  occasionally  led  him  to  indulge.  In  order  rightly  to  estimate 
his  skill,  the  subject  and  the  study  should  conform  to  the  artist’s  special 
taste  and  faculty,  and  in  such  cases  his  success  is  marked  ; but  when 
he  delineates  a theme  endeared  to  sentiment,  like  Godiva,  as  she  lives  in 
Tennyson’s  exquisite  paraphrase,  the  coarse  rendering  of  the  rude  mediaeval 
legend  offends  the  delicate  preconception  of  the  bard’s  admirers,  and 
hence  makes  the  painter’s  illustration  offensive.  It  is  when  we  scan  the 
complete  products  of  Leutze’s  pencil,  recognize  the  spirit  of  his  concep- 
tions, and  the  technical  skill  which  he  was  one  of  the  first  of  our  painters 
to  bring  into  the  service  of  historical  art,  that  we  realize  his  scope  and 
possible  achievements.  His  pictures  are  widely  distributed  : “Washing- 
ton crossing  the  Delaware,”  an  effective  and  impressive  work;  “The 
Rose  of  the  Alhambra,”  “The  Triumph  of  the  Cross,”  “Crossing  the 
Alps,”  and  “John  Knox  admonishing  Mary  Stuart,”  are  in  the  collection 
of  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  “ An  Interior  by  Moonlight,” 
“Captain  Prince,”  “Nurse  and  Child,”  “Columbus  before  Ferdinand,” 
“A  Looking-glass  Reflection,”  “A  Novice,”  “Boy  and  Dog,”  and 
“ Hester  Prynne,”  belong  to  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  William 
McDonald,  Esq.,  of  Baltimore,  has  his  “Battle  of  Yorktown;”  R.  L. 
Stuart,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  his  “Elizabeth;”  J.  W.  Field,  Esq.,  of 
Philadelphia,  one  of  his  earliest  works — “ The  Return  ; ” James  T.  Furness, 
Esq.,  of  the  same  city,  his  “ Columbus  before  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,” 
H.  C.  Carey,  Esq.,  his  “'Poet’s  Dream;”  and  “ Rummaging,”  a pleasing- 
interior,  belongs  to  W.  T.  Blodgett,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  His  “Venetian 
Maskers,”  brilliant  in  color,  his  full-length  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  por- 
traits of  a lady  and  child,  are  in  the  possession  of  Geo.  W.  Riggs,  Esq.,  of 
Washington,  D.  C.  ; “ Cromwell  and  his  Daughter,”  cabinet  size,  was 

purchased  at  the  Wolfe  sale  by  Mr.  Witstalk  for  about  five  hundred  dollars  ; 
and  the  “ Godiva,”  despite  adverse  criticisms,  brought  a thousand  dollars  at 
the  Wright  sale.  Leutze  has  executed  numerous  portraits,  some  of  them 
of  eminent  men,  and  many  of  them  remarkable  for  vigorous  expression 
and  individuality  of  character  ; that  of  General  Grant  is  a fine  example. 

There  is  a spirit  in  the  world,  born  of  earnest  natures,  which  gives  rise 
to  what  may  be  called  the  poetry  of  aCtion.  It  aims  to  embody  heroic 
dreams,  and  prompts  men  to  nourish  great  designs  in  secret,  to  leap  from 
the  crowd  of  passive  lookers-on,  and  become  pioneers,  discoverers,  and 
martyrs.  It  gives  the  primary  impulse  to  reform,  lends  sublime  patience 
to  scientific  research,  cheers  the  vigil  and  nerves  the  arm  of  him  who  keeps 
watch  or  wages  battle  for  humanity.  It  is  the  spirit  of  Adventure.  The 
navigators  of  the  age  of  Elizabeth,  and  the  religious  innovators  of  a later 
day,  knew  its  inspiration  ; and  in  all  times  the  knight,  the  apostle,  the 


344 


American  Artist  Life . 


crusader,  and  the  emigrant,  have  illustrated  its  power.  All  the  momentous 
epochs  of  life  and  history  are  alive  with  its  presence,  and  it  glowed  alike 
in  the  wars  of  Spanish  invasion,  the  protests  of  Luther,  the  voyages  of 
Raleigh,  the  revolt  of  Masaniello,  the  experiment  of  Fulton,  and  in  the  heart 
of  many  a volunteer  who,  a few  years  ago,  encamped  in  Virginia.  Leutze 
delights  in  representing  Adventure.  He  ardently  sympathizes  with 
chivalric  abtion  and  spirit-stirring  events  ; not  the  abstractly  beautiful  or 
the  simply  true,  but  the  heroic,  the  progressive,  the  individual  and  earnest 
phases  of  life,  warm  his  fancy,  and  attrabl  his  pencil.  His  forte  is  the  dra- 
matic. Events  awaken  his  interest  far  more  than  still-life,  however  charm- 
ing ; and  the  scenes  he  aspires  to  portray,  instead  of  being  calm  reflections 
of  nature,  must  be  alive  with  some-destiny,  suggestive  of  a great  epoch  in 
human  affairs,  or  palpitate  with  the  concentrated  life  of  one  of  those  mo- 
ments in  an  individual’s  career  when  the  thoughts  of  years  converge  to  a 
focus,  or  shape  themselves  into  victorious  achievement.  This  sense  of  the 
adventurous,  and  vivid  sympathy  with  what  is  impressive  in  character  and 
memorable  in  history,  seem  to  us  the  main  characteristic  of  Leutze.  It  is 
manifest  in  all  his  successful  efforts,  and  distinguishes  him  from  that  large 
class  of  artists  who  are  quite  content  with  the  mere  beauty  of  a scene,  and 
the  familiar  in  life.  If  Leutze  were  not  a painter,  he  certainly  would  join 
some  expedition  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  thrust  himself  into  a fiery  poli- 
tical controversy,  or  seek  to  wrest  a new  truth  from  the  arcana  of  science. 
He  is  a living  evidence  of  one  of  Emerson’s  aphorisms — “there  is  hope  in 
extravagance,  there  is  none  in  routine.”  We  remember  hearing  a brother 
artist  describe  him  in  his  studio  at  Rome,  engaged  for  hours  upon  a pic- 
ture, deftly  shifting  palette,  cigar,  and  maul-stick  from  hand  to  hand,  as 
occasion  required  ; absorbed,  rapid,  intent,  and  then  suddenly  breaking 
from  his  quiet  task  to  vent  his  constrained  spirits  in  a jovial  song,  or  a 
romp  with  his  great  dog,  whose  vociferous  barking  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  ; 
and  often  abandoning  his  quiet  studies  for  some  wild,  elaborate  frolic,  as 
if  a row  was  essential  to  his  happiness.  His  very  jokes  partook  of  this 
bold  heartiness  of  disposition.  He  scorned  all  ultra-refinement,  and  found 
his  impulse  to  art  not  so  much  in  delicate  perception  as  in  vivid  sensation. 
There  was  ever  a reabtion  from  the  meditative.  His  temperament  is 
Teutonic — hardy,  cordial,  and  brave.  Such  men  hold  the  conventional  in 
little  reverence,  and  their  natures  gush  like  mountain  streams,  with  wild 
freedom  and  unchastened  enthusiasm.  Leutze  resembles  Carlyle.  There 
must  be  great  affinity  in  their  minds — both  impress  and  win  us  through  a 
kind  of  manly  sincerity  and  courageous  bearing.  The  paintings  of  the  one, 
like  the  writings  of  the  other,  often  violate  good  taste,  and  offend  us  by  ex- 
aggeration in  detail ; but  we  often  forgive  such  defebts,  because  of  the  ear- 
nest and  adventurous  spirit,  the  exhilarating  strength  of  will,  the  genuine 
individuality  they  exhibit.  Both,  too,  eloquently  teach  Hero-Worship,  and 
enlist  our  sympathies  in  behalf  of  those  who  bravely  endure  or  calmly  dare 
for  the  sake  of  “an  idea  dearer  than  self.”  If  true  to  himself,  he  will  con- 
vey higher  and  more  effebtive  lessons.  We  have  painters  enough  who  can 


Leutze. 


345 


ably  depiCt  the  aCtual  in  external  nature,  and  the  ideal  of  beauty  in  the  ab- 
stract ; but  very  few  who  have  the  energy  and  comprehensiveness  to  seize 
upon  heroic  attitudes,  and  make  clear  to  the  senses,  as  well  as  to  the  soul, 
that  “the  angel  of  martyrdom  is  brother  to  the  angel  of  victory.”  Leutze’s 
heart  beats  in  unison  with  the  echoes  of  the  mountains,  swells  at  the 
thought  of  great  deeds  and  exalted  suffering,  and  can  appreciate  the  ma- 
jestic loveliness  that  plays,  like  a divine  halo,  around  those  who  have 
deemed  freedom  and  truth  dearer  than  life,  and  vindicated  their  faith  by 
deeds.  We  hope  to  see  more  of  the  great  events  of  our  own  history  made 
the  subjeCt  of  his  labors,  elaborated  with  patient  skill,  and  inspired  by 
national  sentiment. 


BROWN. 


MONG  the  safety-valves  of  youthful  enthusiasm,  in  regard 
to  which  almost  every  man  of  ardent  fancy  boasts  agreea- 
ble reminiscences,  is  the  dramatic  mania.  In  literary 
cities  like  Edinburgh  and  Boston,  where  the  animal  spirits 
incident  to  early  life  are  prone  to  exhaust  themselves  on 
intellectual  objects,  dramatic  clubs  once  formed  a great 
resource  to  school-boys,  collegians,  and  apprentices.  Popular  leCtures  and 
mercantile  associations  have  now  given  a different  and  more  desirable  turn 
to  aspirations  of  this  nature  ; but  the  widely-acknowledged  talent  of  one 
of  our  best  landscape-painters  received  its  first  decided  impulse  at  one  of 
these  juvenile  fraternities.  George  L.  Brown,  a native  of  Boston,  forty 
years  ago  entered  into  the  objects  of  the  club  with  all  the  cordiality  and 
singleness  of  purpose  which  belong  to  artistic  organizations.  It  was  not, 
however,  the  illusions  of  the  stage  that  attracted  him,  but  the  field  thus 
opened  for  gratifying  an  instinctive  love  of  those  combinations,  laws,  and 
effects  which  are  understood  by  the  term  Art.  He  was  found  to  be  a most 
serviceable  ally,  with  an  extraordinary  aptitude  and  unlimited  will,  being 
equally  efficient  and  cheerful  whether  enaCting  Julius  Caesar,  manufactur- 
ing thunder,  or  painting  a scene.  The  latter  occupation,  however,  proved 
by  far  the  most  interesting,  and  the  idea  of  being  destined  for  a painter 
first  broke  like  sunshine  upon  his  mind,  amid  the  loud  plaudits  of  his  com- 
rades at  the  appearance  of  the  long-expeCted  and — in  their  view — miracu- 
lous drop.  “As  if  it  were  by  libraries,  academies,”  exclaims  Carlyle,  “the 
dead  force  of  other  men,  that  the  living  force  of  a new  man  is  to  be  brought 
forth  into  victorious  clearness  ! ” He  alludes  to  the  triumphs  of  genius 
over  circumstance  in  the  instance  of  Burns,  or  rather  to  the  divine  capa- 
city of  genius  to  elicit  its  own  education  from  life,  however  unpropitious. 
This  anecdote  of  Brown’s  youth  illustrates  how  slight  and  accidental  are 
the  events  which  awaken  boundless  intimations  in  gifted  minds.  The  de- 
sign was  no  sooner  conceived  than  every  hour’s  reflection  confirmed  his 
purpose.  He  thought  with  satisfaction  upon  the  habits  acquired  too  early 
for  their  date  to  be  traced,  and  of  which  he  all  at  once  became  for  the  first 
time  conscious — of  drawing,  upon  slates  and  paper,  objeCts  and  incidents 
that  caught  his  attention,  and  especially  a certain  vague  delight  he  had 


Brown. 


347 


ever  taken  in  the  tints  of  costume,  vegetation,  and  skies.  These  faCts  of 
consciousness  assured  him  that  he  did  not  err  in  believing  that  his  perma- 
nent satisfaction  was  to  be  sought  in  artist-life.  The  only  available  method 
of  commencing  his  enterprise  that  presented  itself  was  that  of  offering  his 
services  to  a wood-engraver.  It  was  requisite  that  he  should  quiet  the 
protests  of  his  relatives  against  what  they  considered  his  perverse  indif- 
ference to  several  eligible  schemes  by  which  his  respectable  subsistence 
would  be  made  certain,  by  uniting  with  the  study  of  art  a lucrative  em- 
ployment. At  this  time  a demand  for  illustrated  books,  especially  those 
intended  for  children  and  popular  use,  had  manifested  itself,  and  several 
of  the  Boston  publishers  had  issued  favorable  specimens.  To  these 
gentlemen,  after  a year’s  apprenticeship  to  an  engraver  on  wood,  young 
Brown  applied  for  employment.  His  labors  appear  to  have  given  much 
more  satisfaction  to  his  patrons  than  to  himself,  but  he  sought  allevia- 
tion from  the  monotony  of  his  workshop  by  excursions  into  the  country 
and  haunting  every  studio  where  he  could  obtain  admittance,  and  finally 
by  experiments  in  oil.  His  first  complete  essay  of  the  latter  kind  was 
executed  in  the  room  of  a portrait-painter,  who  had  won  some  influential 
friends  among  the  lovers  of  the  arts.  It  here  arrested  the  eye  of  a gentle- 
man, who  was  struck  with  a certain  boldness  and  feeling  it  displayed, 
notwithstanding  very  obvious  indications  of  want  of  praCtice.  His  interest 
was  greatly  increased  when  assured  that  it  was  a first  attempt.  He  at 
once  purchased  the  landscape,  and  sought  an  introduction  to  the  painter, 
whose  views  he  professed  himself  heartily  disposed  to  promote.  Brown’s 
wishes  were  then  confined  to  a visit  to  Europe.  Without  experience,  full 
of  hope,  and  quite  uninformed  as  to  the  aCtual  demands  of  life  and  of  art, 
he  cherished  vague  but  delightful  ideas  of  artist-life  in  the  Old  World.  As 
the  poor  son  of  Erin  expeCted  to  tread  upon  dollars  the  moment  his  foot 
touched  American  soil,  our  deluded  painter  fondly  deemed  that  in  the 
land  of  Raphael  or  Rubens,  recognition  and  success  awaited  but  his  pres- 
ence. To  understand  the  extent  of  this  feeling,  and  the  dreamy  basis  of 
his  buoyant  expectations,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  w'hen  asked  what  sum 
would  enable  him  to  execute  his  project,  he  instantly  named  one  hundred 
dollars.  The  benevolent  merchant,  whose  sympathies  had  been  enlisted 
alike  by  his  enthusiasm  and  his  wants,  stared  a little  at  this  reply,  and  in- 
quired what  he  proposed  to  do  on  reaching  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
“Be  an  artist,  sir,”  said  Brown,  confidently.  His  friend  gave  him  the  re- 
quired sum,  with  an  ominous  shake  of  the  head  and  his  best  wishes,  and 
Brown  ran,  quite  wild  with  joy,  and  paid  seventy-five  dollars  at  once,  to 
the  captain  of  a brig  bound  to  Antwerp,  for  his  passage.  But  a few  hours 
remained  for  the  young  adventurer  to  complete  his  arrangements  and  take 
leave  of  his  friends.  He  did  not  allow  himself  to  suffer  the  discouraging 
observations  which  every  one  volunteered,  to  subdue  his  elation,  or  change 
for  an  instant  his  purpose.  He  felt  that  confidence  which  sometimes  seems 
to  be  divinely  imparted,  and  no  distrust  of  the  future  beguiled  him  from 
hopeful  visions.  He  had  labored  for  several  of  the  freshest  years  of  his 


34§ 


American  Artist  Life . 


existence  with  scarcely  a word  or  look  of  sympathy  ; he  saw  no  promising 
ray  in  the  horizon  about  him  ; the  objects  and  spirit  of  his  acquaintance 
were  alien  to  his  own,  and  he  longed  to  thrust  himself  forth  into  the  great 
world,  to  escape  from  the  limits  of  routine,  and  to  cast  off  the  bonds  of 
local  prejudice.  He  had  formed  a sweet  alliance  with  Nature,  and  there 
was  a companionship  in  the  works  of  great  artists,  more  sustaining  than 
that  of  ungenial  fellow-beings.  To  such  influences  he  would  courageously 
trust  himself ; he  believed  they  would  console  him  for  a separation  from 
kindred  and  country.  Anticipations,  too,  of  a return  under  happier  cir- 
cumstances, lent  brightness  to  his  musings  ; and  in  fancy,  he  beheld  him- 
self welcomed  with  a respeCt  quite  in  contrast  to  the  half-pitiful  God-speed 
with  which  he  had  been  sent  on  his*way.  One  little  scene  attendant  upon 
his  departure  is  too  ludicrous  to  be  omitted.  At  the  last  moment,  he  dis- 
covered that  it  was  expeCted  of  each  passenger  to  provide  his  own  mattress. 
He  went  on  shore  to  make  the  purchase,  and  being  in  haste,  as  well  as  eco- 
nomically inclined,  followed  the  Eastern  custom,  and  carried  his  own  bed. 
It  was  towards  dusk  that,  thus  burdened,  he  made  his  way  through  the 
principal  streets  of  his  native  city,  encountering  as  he  went  several  mem- 
bers of  the  dramatic  club,  of  whom  he  had  taken  leave  in  the  morning, 
and  whose  doubts  of  his  sanity  the  encounter  by  no  means  lessened.  His 
voyage  was  a period  of  frequent  and  complete  enjoyment.  The  firmament 
and  the  deep  had  never  been  so  entirely  revealed  to  him,  and  many  im- 
pressions were  then  unconsciously  obtained  which  have  subsequently  en- 
riched his  canvas,  as  at  early  morning,  sunset,  and  midnight,  he  watched 
the  changeful  tints  of  the  ocean,  or  the  blending  lights  of  the  sky.  From 
reveries  like  these,  the  process  of  unlading  the  vessel  all  at  once  aroused 
him.  The  generous  captain  surmised  his  lonely  and  destitute  condition, 
and  with  great  delicacy  tendered  him  what  assistance  he  could.  Now  the 
vicissitudes  he  had  braved  were  at  length  clearly  perceived.  He  felt  that 
he  was  a stranger  and  poor,  and  as  he  slowly  walked  up  from  the  pier, 
began  seriously  to  wonder  at  his  own  improvidence. 

The  few  succeeding  months  of  his  life  would  furnish  hints  enough  for  a 
popular  novelist  to  construct  many  attractive  chapters.  With  his  powers  of 
observation  and  endurance  continually  exercised,  and  his  moments  of 
euthusiasm  alternating  with  hours  of  keen  anxiety,  he  lingered  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Antwerp  until  the  friendly  captain  sailed.  That  true- 
hearted mariner,  who  seemed  to  the  lonely  painter  to  carry  with  him  the 
last  visible  bond  which  united  him  to  home,  was  his  companion  in  an 
excursion  to  the  field  of  Waterloo,  and  his  pioneer  to  some  novel  illustra- 
tions of  life  in  the  Lowlands.  Brown  passed  many  hours  daily  in  the 

* 

cathedral — the  first  grand  specimen  of  religious  architecture  he  had  seen, 
and  one  which,  at  his  age,  and  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  his 
visit,  made  a deep  and  lasting  impression.  The  pictures  of  Ruysdael  also 
gave  him  singular  delight,  and  awakened  a new  series  of  ideas  in  regard  to 
his  art.  He  could  not,  however,  indulge  these  tastes  with  equanimity, 
while  his  small  resources  were  rapidly  dwindling,  and  not  the  smallest 


Brown. 


349 


chance  of  profitable  occupation  or  hospitality  offered  itself  to  his  now- 
sobered  imagination.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  embark  at  once  for 
London,  and  arrived  there  almost  penniless.  After  a few  weeks’  residence, 
which  he  improved  as  far  as  his  scanty  means  would  allow,  he  availed 
himself  of  the  timely  assistance  of  a countryman,  and  went  to  Paris,  with 
a view  of  copying  in  the  Louvre.  The  merchant  who  had  befriended  him 
in  Boston,  authorized  him,  at  his  departure,  to  send  the  first  products  of  in's 
industry  to  his  address.  Accordingly,  he  had  no  sooner  finished  a few 
pictures,  than  they  were  carefully  transmitted.  Meantime,  Brown  shared 
the  humble  apartment  of  a brother-artist,  and  for  several  days  lived  upon 
bread  and  water.  While  in  suspense  as  to  the  result  of  his  experiment,  he 
could  not  afford  even  to  purchase  the  materials  of  his  art,  and  wandered 
along  the  Boulevards  and  through  the  gardens  of  the  brilliant  metropolis, 
often  in  a state  of  feverish  anxiety,  yet  ever  and  anon  beguiled  from  a 
sense  of  his  isolated  and  impoverished  condition,  by  a rare  engraving  at  a 
shop  window,  or  a beautiful  effeCt  of  light  and  shade,  evolved  from  illumi- 
nated shrubbery,  dazzling  fountain,  or  moonlit  architecture.  He  could 
have  obtained  pecuniary  aid,  by  merely  stating  his  wants,  from  more  than 
one  pleasant  comrade  ; but,  with  the  pride  natural  to  his  cherished  aims,  he 
manfully  preferred  to  suffer  privations  awhile,  rather  than  extend  his 
obligations  beyond  the  kind  but  poor  artist  whose  lodging  he  shared. 
When  more  than  sufficient  time  had  elapsed,  however,  for  a response  to 
his  application,  he  began  to  feel  that  heart-sickness  which  is  born  of  hope 
deferred  ; and  one  lovely  day  in  spring,  he  rose  from  one  of  the  benches 
of  the  Tuileries,  and  ended  a gloomy  reverie  by  a determination  to  seek, 
for  the  last  time,  the  banker  to  whom  his  letters  were  to  be  addressed,  and 
if  again  disappointed,  to  proceed  on  foot  to  Havre,  and  beg  or  work  his 
passage  to  America.  With  a thrill  of  joy,  he  found  warm  acknowledg- 
ments from  the  merchant  awaiting  him.  The  pictures  had  proved  more 
than  satisfactory,  and  remittances  adequate  to  liquidate  his  small  debt,  and 
provide  for  his  immediate  necessities,  had  been  placed  to  his  credit. 

Let  us  now  pass  over  a few  years.  It  was  a beautiful  autumn  noon,  and 
the  many  churches  of  Boston  had  poured  forth  the  throngs  of  their  respec- 
tive worshippers.  Two  young  men  stood  at  the  end  of  Long  Wharf,  gaz- 
ing upon  the  waters  of  the  harbor.  They  approached  and  recognized  each 
other.  “ Why  are  you  here  ? ” asked  one.  “ In  certain  moods  I find  a 
peculiar  refreshment  in  beholding  the  sea.  In  view  of  these  vessels  and 
that  bay,  I easily  recall  the  pleasant  hours  of  my  life  abroad,  and  it  is 
sometimes  grateful  to  realize  how  near  at  hand  is  the  medium  by  which,  if 
my  dearest  wishes  fail  at  home,  I may  pass  to  a distant  land  endeared  by 
association,  and  redolent  of  promise.”  “ What  a singular  coincidence  ! ” 
exclaimed  his  companion  : “ you  have  given  expression  to  the  very  feel- 
ing which  pervaded  my  mind,  though  it  had  not  assumed  a distinCl  shape. 
I have  seen  just  enough  of  foreign  scenes  to  feel  their  inspiration.  Under 
the  pressure  of  want,  I knew  amid  them  a flow  of  ideas,  a consciousness  of 
sympathy,  and  a vivid  ambition,  which  I am  confident,  in  more  auspicious 


350 


American  Artist  Life. 

circumstances,  would  have  called  forth  all  my  latent  ability,  and  won  me  ; 
reputation  in  my  art  ; but  I returned,  from  necessity,  prematurely,  and 
have  since  learned,  from  bitter  experience,  that  ‘ a prophet  is  not  without 
honor  save  in  his  own  country.’  The  old  feeling  will  not  come  back, 
although  I labor  assiduously;  the  mechanical  triumphs  over  the  spiritual. 
I wait  in  vain  for  orders.  I miss  the  brotherhood,  the  high  examples,  the 
free  life,  the  artistic  influences  of  Europe  ; and  yet  I cannot,  if  I would, 
chill  the  spirit  which  my  present  life  renders  dormant,  but  not  dead.  You 
remember  how  Corinne  felt  in  England  ! I am  in  a like  condition.  What 
skill  is  mine  as  a mere  draughtsman  remains,  but  the  power  of  improvisa- 
tion in  colors  seems  blighted.  The  technical  eclipses  the  spontaneous.” 
“ This  is  all  quite  intelligible  to.  me,”  answered  the  other,  “ although  1 
have  never  seen  your  works.  Is  there  no  feasible  method  of  accomplish- 
ing your  desire  ?”  “ None  that  I can  imagine,  except  obtaining  commis- 

sions— and  Allston,  to  whom  I went  for  that  encouragemen  the  so  readily 
administers,  last  night  told  me  that  my  copy  of  one  of  Claude’s  landscapes 
was  the  best  he  ever  saw.”  “ Do  you  think  he  would  put  that  in  writing  ? ” 
“ Undoubtedly.”  “Bring  such  a certificate  to  me  on  the  morrow,  and  we 
will  see  what  can  be  done.”  The  result  of  this  colloquy  was  that  the 
endorsement  of  the  great  painter  was  brought  to  the  notice  of  several 
wealthy  citizens,  who  had  a taste  for  adorning  their  houses  with  authentic 
memorials  of  the  old  masters,  and  whose  patriotism  inclined  them  to  sup- 
port native  talent.  Articles  setting  forth  Brown’s  projeCt  were  inserted  in 
some  of  the  leading  journals,  and  in  less  than  a month  he  wras  on  his  way 
to  Italy,  with  a reasonable  advance  on  the  price  demanded  for  two  or  three 
copies  of  Claude  Lorraine’s  masterpieces.  He  found  himself  at  work  in  a 
Roman  palace,  with  just  sufficient  to  carry  him  through  the  winter.  Incited 
alike  by  gratitude  and  hope,  he  toiled  long  and  faithfully,  and,  for  half  a 
year,  carried  his  picture  to  and  fro  daily  between  the  gallery  and  his  lodg- 
ings. While  giving  the  finishing  touches,  it  caught  the  eye  of  a Baltimore 
gentleman  of  fortune,  who  had  accidentally  visited  the  collection  ; an 
acquaintance  ensued,  and  Brown’s  anxieties  for  the  future  were  put 
asleep  by  a draft  for  a thousand  dollars,  to  be  invested  according  to  his 
own  taste  in  the  fruits  of  his  expressive  pencil. 

For  several  years  Brown  resided  in  Florence.  During  this  time  he 
painted  sixty  landscapes,  and  those  not  executed  in  fulfilment  of  par- 
ticular orders,  met  with  a ready  ^ale  among  the  travelling  English  and 
his  own  countrymen.  The  greater  portion  of  these  works  are  com- 
positions, many  of  them  representing  felicitous  combinations  of  Italian 
scenery.  The  fir-tree,  the  tower  of  the  middle  ages,  the  picturesque 
bridge,  the  fragmentary  aqueduCt,  the  contadina  at  the  fountain,  the 
cross  by  the  wayside,  and  other  objeCts,  are  indeed  sufficiently  fami- 
liar to  the  lover  of  art,  and  forma  kind  of  staple  imagery  for  the  trav- 
eller’s portfolio.  A bolder  outline,  greater  freedom  and  richness  of 
coloring,  and  a more  expressive  tone,  however,  give  Brown’s  treat- 
ment of  these  subjects  a peculiar  charm.  They  appeal,  under  his 


Brown. 


35i 


hand,  more  earnestly  to  our  associations  ; and  yet  we  are  far  from  re- 
garding his  style  as  faultless.  Sometimes  there  is  a too  obvious  striving 
for  effeCt ; the  tints  have  a certain  prominence,  something  like  those  of 
gorgeous  tapestry,  and  the  light  is  not  enough  subdued.  His  efforts,  too, 
are  quite  unequal,  and  he  wants  practice  in  the  figure.  But  these  are 
rather  erroneous  tendencies  than  radical  imperfections.  More  study  did 
not  fail  to  correCt  them.  On  his  return  home,  on  a visit  for  a few 
weeks,  he  brought  some  excellent  specimens  of  his  ability,  which  were 
very  generally  admired,  and  gained  rapidly  upon  public  estimation  the 
more  they  were  contemplated.  Among  them  were  two  moonlight  scenes 
in  Venice,  of  rare  beauty.  One  in  particular  gave  with  admirable  truth 
that  peculiar  density  of  the  sky  so  remarkable  in  Italy,  on  a summer  night 
after  a storm,  when  the  moon  appears  to  sail  far  out  from  the  infinite 
depths  of  the  blue  concave,  and  silver  the  edges  of  the  massive  clouds 
below.  She  illumines  the  Piazzetta  di  San  Marco  and  the  famous  Lion  of 
St,  Mark  ; the  Ducal  Palace  on  the  right,  the  Lagoons  and  San  Georgio 
on  the  left.  In  the  opening  on  the  right,  between  the  Ducal  Palace  and 
the  next  building,  is  seen  the  “ Bridge  of  Sighs.”  At  a proper  distance 
the  illusion  of  this  view  is  absolutely  startling,  and  one  who  can  recognize 
its  local  fidelity,  feels  a thrill  of  solemn  delight  such  as  once  transported 
him  when  gazing  upon  the  heavens  thus  illumined  from  the  Piazza  San 
Marco.  Critics  objected  that  the  pigments  were  laid  on  too  heavily,  but 
none  looked  upon  the  landscape  unmoved,  and  not  a few  acknowledged 
that  it  was  the  best  southern  moonlight  they  had  ever  seen  upon  canvas. 

Happiness  is  distinguished  from  mere  pleasure  by  the  faCt  that  in  that 
state  we  repose  upon  sensation.  If  we  analyze  in  our  memories  the 
enchantment  of  genuine  delight,  it  will  be  found  that  a wish  indefinitely  to 
prolong  the  mood  or  condition,  an  invincible  dread  that  the  spell  may  be 
broken,  a tranquil  but  intense  absorption  of  consciousness,  is  the  dis- 
tinctive trait  by  which  real  enjoyment  may  be  known  from  artificial.  At 
such  a moment  our  being  is  harmonized  ; there  is  a sweet  blending  of  the 
elements  of  life  ; it  is  what  Campbell  means  by  “the  torrent’s  smoothness 
ere  it  dash  below,”  and  Croly  by  “passion  made  essential,”  and  Coleridge 
by  the  realization  of  “gentle  wishes  long  subdued,  subdued  and  cherished 
long.”  In  the  clear  perception  of  truth,  in  communion  with  nature,  in 
what  the  devotional  mean  by  peace,  the  moralists  by  integrity  of  soul, 
and  the  lover  by  recognition,  the  feeling  we  would  suggest  is  involved. 
It  is  the  settling  of  the  quivering  balance,  the  ultimate  swell  of  the  choir, 
the  mellowness  of  the  full  noontide,  the  entire  calm  that  succeeds  both 
excitement  and  reaction — in  a word,  that  completeness,  satisfaction,  con- 
tent, which,  like  the  calm  glow  of  autumn,  seems  to  fill  all  conscious  desire, 
and  hush  the  pleadings  of  expeCtancy,  without  inducing  any  of  the  stagna- 
tion of  indifference.  Politicians  talk  of  a balance  of  power;  there  is 
an  equilibrium  of  soul  somewhat  analogous.  In  literature  and  art  a 
quality  similar  to  this  moral  condition  obtains.  It  is  to  such  works  what 
temperament  is  in  individuals — the  subtle  principle  uniting  mechanical  and 


352 


American  Artist  Life . 


spiritual  attributes.  Thus  we  talk  of  books  that  soothe  and  books  that 
inspire.  Byron  says  : “ High  mountains  are  a feeling.”  The  correspond- 
ing effeCt  in  the  creations  of  genius  is  that  which  appeals  to  the  soul — not 
referable  to  outline,  form,  or  perspective,  but  evolved  from  or  mysteri- 
ously combined  with  these.  It  is  the  indefinite  charm  of  art  and  character, 
the  magnetism  and  not  the  anatomy  of  things.  No  phase  of  nature  so 
thoroughly  represents  the  idea  as  atmosphere.  Indeed,  the  use  of  this 
term  in  regard  to  persons  and  places,  is  the  best  proof  of  its  significance, 
and  the  genius  of  landscape-painting  is  most  perfectly  exhibited  by  suc- 
cessfully reproducing  its  magic.  Claude’s  peculiar  merit  lies  in  this  very 
achievement.  As  he  watched  the  sunsets  from  the  Pincian  mount,  he  not 
only  saw  but  felt  them,  and  in  imitating  celestial  hues,  imparted  also  the 
emotion  with  which  they  inspired  “him.  Upon  some  landscapes  we  look 
with  pleasure  on  account  of  their  marvellous  correctness  ; from  others  we 
imbibe  the  sentiment  with  which  they  overflow.  It  is  the  same  in  poetry. 
Crabbe  had  an  eye  for  the  minutest  details  of  nature  ; Wordsworth  takes 
in  the  very  spirit  of  the  universe,  and  the  writings  of  each  afifeCt  us  accord- 
ingly. The  special  phase  of  success  and  promise  in  Brown  is  his  suscep- 
tibility to  the  language  of  atmosphere  and  skies.  We  have  already  stated 
that,  as  a copyist  of  Claude,  he  first  advanced  both  in  reputation  and 
means.  His  success  in  giving  that  painter’s  manner  procured  him  the 
name,  among  his  countrymen  and  brother  artists  in  Florence,  of  Claude 
Brown.  In  order  to  estimate  wherein  this  merit  differs  from  other  essen- 
tial qualities  of  landscape,  it  is  requisite  to  consider  the  many  delicate 
variations  which  exist  in  the  skies  and  atmospheres  of  different  countries 
and  seasons.  Whoever  is  alive  to  the  language  of  Nature  must  be  sensible 
of  having  experienced,  as  it  were,  her  most  changeful  and  insinuating 
moods,  while  contemplating  the  twilight,  sunset,  or  morning  aspeCt  of  the 
heavens  in  America,  Switzerland,  and  Italy,  and  in  spring,  winter,  and 
autumn.  Perhaps  this  is  the  most  subtle  and  mysterious  language  which 
she  addresses  to  the  mind,  and  therefore  more  difficult  to  define  or  analyze. 
“ There  is  an  evening  twilight  of  the  heart,”  says  Halleck — and  who  has 
not  felt  it  ? Our  sunsets  are  often  gorgeous  rather  than  serene,  and  the  light 
and  skies  with  us,  are  sometimes  too  exciting  to  afford  the  deepest  gratifi- 
cation to  the  feelings,  or  the  most  desirable  material  for  the  artist.  The 
moon  and  stars  appear  to  stand  forth  from  the  firmament  rather  than  be 
half  lost  in  its  depth.  The  evening  clouds  often  lie  in  huge  fleecy  masses, 
grand  and  bright — 


“ As  if  some  spirit  of  the  air, 

Might  pause  to  gaze  below  awhile, 
Then  turn  to  bathe  and  revel  there.” 


There  is  a keen  transparency  in  the  atmospheres  of  our  autumn  and  winter, 
but  only  the  haze  of  the  Indian  summer  breathes  a genuine  poetry.  To 
this  neutral  tint,  subdued  effeCt,  some  intervening  medium  or  reflected  light 
whereon  the  eye  can  rest  without  being  dazzled — in  short,  a tranquillizing 


Brown. 


353 


as  well  as  brilliant  element,  is  quite  essential.  This  is  the  peculiar  charm 
of  Italian  skies.  Violet  tints,  soft  and  deep,  seem  to  float  over  the  snowy 
Apennines.  There  is  an  apparently  penetrable  density  in  the  azure  of  the 
sky,  observable  especially  when  seen  through  the  opening  of  a cupola — as 
that  of  the  Pantheon,  for  instance.  At  sunset,  the  clouds  stretch  in  pen- 
cilled lines  along  the  horizon,  and  every  variety  of  hue  trembles  through  a 
lucid  mist.  The  effeCt  upon  the  mind  is  dreamy  ; the  senses  are  won  by 
gentle  encroachments,  and  the  feelings  are  melted  rather  than  roused,  as 
we  gaze.  Claude  was  remarkable  for  the  “ dewy  humidity  which  he  threw 
over  dark,  shadowy  places.”  This  he  acquired  from  Ausonian  nature. 
Firmamento  lucido  and  cieli  immensi  belong  to  the  south  of  Europe. 
Beckford,  who,  if  we  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  was  an  epicurean  lover 
of  nature,  when  he  first  saw  the  sun  go  down  upon  the  southern  plains  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Alps,  wrote  thus  : “ A few  hazy  vapors — I cannot  call 
them  clouds — rested  upon  the  extremity  of  the  landscape,  and  through  their 
medium  the  sun  cast  an  oblique  and  dewy  ray.”  The  tints  of  the  Apen- 
nines are  singularly  mellow,  the  air  which  encircles  them  often  at  once 
pearly  and  transparent,  and  their  summits  are  sometimes  invested  with  a 
saffron  light.  When  the  Swiss  mountains  greeted  Allston’s  vision  at  early 
morning  from  Lake  Maggiore,  he  says  : “ They  seemed  literally  to  rise 
from  their  purple  beds  and  put  on  their  golden  crowns.”  And  in  Monaldi, 
describing  a summer  noon  at  Rome,  he  observes  : “ There  was  a thin  yellow 
haze  over  the  distance,  like  that  which  precedes  the  sirocco,  but  the  nearer 
objects  were  clear  and  distinCt,  and  so  bright  that  the  eye  could  scarcely 
rest  upon  them  without  quivering,  especially  on  the  modern  buildings,  with 
their  huge  sweep  of  whited  walls,  and  their  red-tiled  roofs,  that  lay  burn- 
ing in  the  sun  ; while  the  sharp,  black  shadows  which,  here  and  there, 
seemed  to  indent  the  dazzling  masses,  might  almost  have  been  fancied  the 
cinder-tracks  of  fire.”  Such  descriptions  evince  the  richness  of  this  field 
of  observation  to  an  artist.  Mere  acuteness  of  perception,  however,  is  not 
sufficient  to  transfer  such  vague  beauties  to  canvas.  There  must  be  a vivid 
sympathy  with  transitions  so  interwoven  and  aerial.  We  have  compared 
the  atmospheric  phenomena  of  color,  light  and  shade,  density  and  trans- 
parency, as  visible  as  nature,  with  the  moods  of  the  mind.  To  extend  the 
similitude  : to  those  who  do  not  sympathize  with  and  love  us,  our  moods 
are  purely  objective,  arbitrary,  and  isolated  states  ; but  the  eye  which  can 
read  our  own,  the  heart  whose  pulses  vibrate  to  our  touch,  recognize  in 
these  moods  a soulful  meaning.  And  thus  the  painter  who  only  sees  Na- 
ture with  his  eyes,  can  but  embody  her  more  palpable  forms  and  colors  ; 
while  he  who  is  drawn  toward  her  by  undefinable  attraction,  and  feels  her 
more  intricate  relations,  portrays  her  in  the  spirit  of  faith  as  well  as  of 
sight.  This  is  only  saying  that  in  regard  to  susceptibility,  the  painter 
should  be,  and  is  by  nature,  a poet  also.  There  is  as  much  sentiment  in 
one  of  Claude’s  best  landscapes  as  there  is  in  Raphael’s  Holy  Fam- 
ily. Many  of  our  landscape-painters  excel  mainly  in  graphic  ability,  in 
the  American  aptitudes  of  taCt  and  quickness  ; they  faithfully  depiCt 

23 


354 


American  Artist  Life. 


the  material  objeCts  which  constitute  scenery,  but  rarely  catch  a trace  of 
the  soul  of  the  universe,  by  which  she  allies  herself  to  the  heart  of  man  ; 
and  until  the  advent  of  Cole  and  Durand,  we  discern  the  clearest  tokens  of 
this  genial  feeling  in  many  of  Brown’s  pictures. 

In  i860  he  returned  to  the  United  States,  bringing  with  him  many 
Italian  landscapes  and  a remarkable  series  of  elaborately  finished  pencil- 
drawings  of  trees,  especially  some  of  the  venerable  ilexes  near  Rome.  He 
soon  executed  several  American  landscapes — views  of  Niagara,  the  White 
Mountains,  and  the  New  England  and  Southern  coast : his  “ broad  effects  of 
light”  and  remarkable  facility  of  execution  obtained  him  frequent  commissions. 
A pidture  called  “ The  Crown  of  New  England” — a view  of  the  highest  of 
the  White  Mountains,  was  purchased  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  during  his 
visit  to  the  United  States  : and  several  gentlemen  of  New  York  presented 
his  Royal  Highness  with  the  same  artist’s  pi6ture  of  the  Bay  of  that  city. 
For  several  years  past  Brown  has  resided  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston,  where 
his  pencil  is  constantly  and  profitably  employed — chiefly  upon  Italian  sub- 
jects, for  which  his  careful  and  elaborate  studies  furnish  ample  material. 
During  the  last  four  years  he  has  painted  sixty-three  landscapes  of  scenes 
in  and  near  Rome,  in  the  vicinity  of  Naples,  and  in  the  island  of  Sicily. 
One  of  his  latest  critics  remarks  : “ George  L.  Brown  continues  to  paint 
Italian  scenery  ; but,  so  far  as  artistic  execution  goes,  much  better  than 
when  he  was  in  Italy.  His  color  is  now  marked  by  a pearly-gray  tone, 
which  is  restful  and  quiet  in  comparison  with  the  lavish  use  of  reds  and 
yellows  which  characterized  his  work  in  other  years.  At  the  same  time  he 
elaborates  his  picture,  finishing  the  smallest  details  with  sober,  conscien- 
tious care.” 


PALMER. 


RS.  GRANT’S  “ Memoirs  of  an  American  Lady  ” have  pre- 
served a charming  memorial  of  olden  times  in  Albany.  The 
tone  of  manners,  and  the  simplicity  of  life  she  describes, 
have  the  pure  and  cheerful  spirit  of  the  domestic  and  rural 
scenes  delineated  in  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Equality 
seems  to  have  coexisted  with  the  most  genuine  self-respeCt ; 
Addison  and  Milton  were  the  literary  oracles  ; hospitality  was  too  instinc- 
tive and  habitual  to  rank  as  a virtue ; abundant  game  and  fruits,  and  uni- 
versal thrift,  with  comfortable  domiciles  and  ample  domains,  equalized  the 
gifts  of  fortune  ; an  honest  chivalry  of  sentiment,  choice  through  limited 
reading,  the  right  kind  of  family  pride,  and  no  casual  interest  in  the  songs 
and  sermons  of  the  day,  gave  a refinement  to  minds  and  manners  thus 
developed  in  a secluded  region,  where  truth  and  individuality  of  character 
were  fostered  by  the  fireside  and  around  the  porch  ; the  fairest  scenes  of 
nature  appealed  to  the  imagination  ; the  most  candid  social  intercourse 
elicited  the  affections  ; and  even  negro  slavery  became  contented  domestic 
servitude,  patriarchal  in  its  household  comfort  and  loyalty.  As  the  capital 
of  the  State,  Albany,  at  a later  period,  gathered  a seleCt  and  honored  circle 
of  eminent  lawyers,  statesmen,  and  divines  ; and  boasted  more  aristocratic 
families  than  any  town  of  its  size  in  the  Union.  The  eloquence  and  acu- 
men exhibited  in  the  courts,  the  wit  of  the  banquets,  the  intelligent  con- 
versation, and  the  deference  to  mental  superiority,  are  traditional  features 
of  those  times.  Arguments  are  yet  cited  by  venerable  barristers,  memora- 
ble sayings,  original  characters,  the  zest  of  a new  Waverley  novel,  and  the 
discussion  incident  to  a fresh  Bonaparte  victory,  live  in  the  reminiscences 
of  a few  who  survive  that  dignified  and  brilliant  society  ; and  nowhere  in 
the  country  is  evident  more  of  the  exclusiveness  of  a proud  lineage  than 
among  its  descendants.  All  the  famous  names  associated  with  great  landed 
estates  in  New  York,  with  colonial  distinction  and  revolutionary  statesman- 
ship, are  identified  with  that  old  city. 

A few  superior  professional  men,  and,  in  the  winter,  some  eminent  offi- 
cials, still  give  a certain  intellectual  life  to  the  place.  A venerable  clergy- 
man, with  his  urbane  and  reminiscent  conversation,  and  most  interesting 
collection  of  autographs,  may  charm  away  an  evening,  spared  from  paro- 


356 


American  Artist  Life. 


chial  duties  and  the  labor  he  so  constantly  bestowed  on  a large  biographical 
work,  devoted  to  the  American  clergy  of  past  generations  ; and  at  the 
State  Library  may  be  found,  ever  at  his  post,  the  guardian  of  its  treasury 
of  wisdom,  a Flemish  limner,  in  verse,  of  native  scenery.  To  the  visitor 
of  the  present  day,  Albany,  however,  offers  little  to  distinguish  it  from  other 
flourishing  inland  cities,  save  influential  political  journalists,  and  some 
notable  wire-pullers  in  the  arcana  of  faction.  With  difficulty  one  finds  a 
Dutch  house,  with  quaint  gables  and  broad  stoop.  A few  old-fashioned 
mansions,  however,  with  spacious  front  inclosure,  where  umbrageous 
shrubs  and  fine  elms  remind  us  of  the  rural  aspebt  of  the  ancient  settle- 
ment, and  some  lingering  customs  and  celebrated  names,  are  eloquent  of 
the  past 

But  the  bustle  of  a mart,  and  the  confusion  of  a railway  depot,  are  more 
obvious  to  the  passing  traveller.  It  was,  therefore,  with  little  anticipation 
of  so  delightful  a surprise,  that,  several  years  since,  I strolled  forth  to  be- 
guile two  hours  of  a summer  afternoon  at  Albany,  while  awaiting  the  train, 
and  under  the  wing  of  the  Capitol  discovered  the  studio  of  a sculptor, 
whose  achievements  and  history  are  equally  remarkable.  Indeed,  the  mere 
fabt  that,  by  patient  devotion  to  his  art  in  his  own  State,  without  the  least 
attempt  to  conciliate  public  favor,  or  the  usual  eagerness  to  study  abroad, 
as  the  indispensable  means  of  success  at  home,  struck  me  as  no  common 
evidence  of  self-reliance.  The  commodious  atelier  and  dwelling-house — 
fruits  of  his  professional  labors — plainly  indicate  that  they  have  been  suc- 
cessful, even  according  to  the  external  American  standard  ; but  still  more 
impressive  is  the  fabt  that,  brief  as  his  career  has  been,  and  unaided  by 
foreign  and  conventional  appliances  as  has  been  his  culture,  a high  ideal, 
a progressive  taste,  the  most  individual  conceptions,  and  an  execution 
scrupulous  in  its  refinements,  are  Palmer’s  normal  characteristics. 

I had  scarcely  crossed  the  threshold  of  Palmer’s  studio,  when  it  seemed 
as  if,  by  some  magical  process,  Albany  was  transformed  to  Florence. 
The  huge  blocks  of  marble  at  the  door,  the  workmen  in  the  lower  rooms 
engaged  in  blocking  out  from  the  same  material  the  plaster-casts  before 
them  ; a young  man,  of  artistic  look,  giving  the  finishing  touches  to  a 
child’s  statue  ; above,  the  clay  model  on  which  the  sculptor — dressed  in  a 
blouse  and  cap,  exablly  like  those  Greenough  and  Powers  used  to  wear — 
was  intent,  his  height  and  air,  as  well  as  occupation,  adding  to  the  resem- 
blance— made  the  scene  a counterpart  of  those  so  often  encountered  in 
Italy:  while  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  artist’s  young  daughters,  with  dark 
hair  and  eyes,  and  a broad  hat  of  Tuscan  pattern,  enhanced  the  illusion. 
The  building  and  its  arrangements  were  more  like  a studio,  as  that  term  is 
understood  in  Rome,  than  any  edifice  I had  seen  in  this  country ; the 
method,  order,  and  activity,  the  reproduction  of  favorite  heads,  and  the 
different  apartments  awarded  to  each  process,  gave  the  impression 
of  the  art  of  statuary,  pursued  as  a regular  and  lucrative  business,  for 
which  the  visitor  is  unprepared.  To  learn  the  antecedents  of  such  an 
efficient  and  isolated  votary  becomes  a natural  desire  ; and  the  incidents 


Palmer. 


357 


of  the  sculptor’s  life  are  not  less  illustrative  of  the  triumph  of  a native 
aptitude  than  of  the  success  which  is  certain  to  attend  merit  in  a free  land. 

The  first  work  in  marble  that  excited  high  anticipations  of  Palmer’s 
future  triumphs  in  sculpture,  was  a head  known  as  the  “ Infant  Ceres.”  It 
was  modelled  from  one  of  his  young  children — a lovely  girl — and  idealized 
with  stridl  regard  to  nature  as  a basis.  The  exquisite  contour  and  subli- 
mated infantile  expression  of  this  bust  attracted  a crowd  of  delighted  gazers 
at  the  New  York  Academy  Exhibition:  the  conception  proved  a remarka- 
ble eye  for  beauty,  while  the  finish  indicated  an  exactitude  and  refinement 
of  chiselling.  Next  came  two  bas-reliefs  representing  the  Morning  and 
Evening  Star,  in  the  form  of  two  beautiful  winged  heads,  one  with  droop- 
ing, and  the  other  with  intent  eyes  ; and  soon  after  he  produced  the 
“ Spirit’s  Flight,”  in  similar  style,  but  of  yet  higher  poetic  significance. 
The  mother  looks  earnestly  upon  the  cross,  and  the  child  is  full  of  graceful 
simplicity— two  ideal  heads  of  such  lovely  impressiveness  that  they  seem 
conceived  in  the  trance  of  beauty  which  wraps  an  enamored  soul — such  a 
personification  of  the  chaste  and  tender  attributes  of  grace  and  thought  in 
woman’s  face  as  cling  to  memory  and  haunt  imagination.  There  are  two 
distinct  species  of  artistic  forms — one  that  instructs  us  in  the  difficulties 
and  one  that  inspires  us  with  admiration  of  creative  genius.  We  deem  the 
hour  thenceforth  memorable  when  it  was  first  our  lot  to  behold  them.  They 
constitute  a standard  of  taste,  embody  a whole  formula  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  beautiful  and  the  grand,  and  serve  as  landmarks  in  aesthetic  experi- 
ence : but  we  no  more  think  of  appropriating  them,  or  desire  to  render  the 
sensations  they  awaken  permanent,  than  we  wish  to  linger  forever  on  a 
beach,  enjoy  a monopoly  of  the  sunset,  or  have  a waterfall  at  our  threshold. 
Such  are  the  u Last  Judgment  ” of  Michael  Angelo,  the  more  elaborate  mira- 
cles of  color  bequeathed  by  Titian  and  Rubens,  the  Cathedral  winders  of 
England,  the  Sphinx,  the  Campanile  of  Bruneleschi,  and  other  monuments, 
whose  interest,  however  powerful,  is  enshrined  in  local,  historical,  or  rare 
associations  : they  are  sublime  generalizations  or  specific  exemplars,  inval- 
uable, unique,  and  broadly  suggestive.  Another  class  of  works  have  an 
endearing  individuality.  We  love  them,  as  Desdemona  did  the  Moor,  “to 
live  with  them  ; ” and  would  fain  look  upon  them  in  the  familiar  admira- 
tion of  constant  sympathy  : like  Wordsworth’s  true  woman,  though  of 
surpassing  charms,  they 


“ Are  not  too  bright  and  good 
For  human  nature’s  daily  food.” 


The  first  order  of  art  is  as  a sacred  temple,  into  which  we  would  reverently 
enter  in  an  exalted  mood  ; the  other  appeals  so  direCtly  to  the  heart,  as 
well  as  the  imagination,  that  our  instinctive  desire  is,  to  make  of  its  works 
our  household  gods.  Of  this  latter  kind  are  the  ideal  busts  of  “ Resigna- 
tion ” and  “ Spring rife,  the  one  with  womanly,  and  the  other  with 
maiden  traits.  There  is  superinduced  upon,  or  rather  interfused  with 


358 


American  Artist  Life. 


these,  in  the  first  instance,  an  expression  of  subdued  happiness,  divine 
trust,  and  latent  hope— which  is  the  Christian  idea  of  resignation — a holy 
consciousness  that  all  is  well,  a spiritual  insight  which  charms  the  heart 
that  we  yet  can  see  has  bowed  to  sorrow  ; and  this  feeling  kindles  features 
in  themselves  so  pure  and  lovely,  yet  so  human  and  feminine,  that  consum- 
mate beauty  seems  to  overflow  with  the  sentiment  of  the  patriarch — “ It  is 
good  for  me  that  I have  been  afflicted.”  “ Spring,”  on  the  other  hand,  is 
the  sweetest  type  of  maidenhood  ; the  gentle  swell  of  the  child-like  bosom, 
the  delicate,  fresh  lips  parted,  as  if  about  to  utter  some  accent  of  love  and 
promise,  the  girlish  head  rounded  with  a grace,  half  of  sprightliness,  and 
half  of  expanding  nature,  and  the  wreath  of  grass,  not  ripe  and  full,  but  at 
the  moment  when  the  blade  is  about  to  merge  into  a head — all  this  embodies 
the  language  of  that  mysterious  and  enchanting  season  when  the  embryo 
forces  of  earth  and  air  stir  With  the  bursting  life  of  rejuvenated  ele- 
ments. The  first  example  of  an  entire  figure  modelled  by  Palmer,  is  the 
“ Indian  Girl.”  The  design  is  equally  felicitous  for  simplicity  and  inven- 
tion. An  aboriginal  maiden  is  supposed  to  be  wandering  in  the  forest  in 
search  of  stray  feathers  to  decorate  her  person,  when  she  discovers  one 
of  the  little  crosses  placed  here  and  there  in  the  wilderness,  by  the  early 
missionaries,  as  symbols  of  the  faith  to  which  they  endeavored  to  convert 
the  savage  tribes.  As  she  looks  upon  the  hallowed  emblem,  the  divine 
story  of  Jesus  recurs  to  her  mind,  and  awakens  emotions  of  awe  and  ten- 
derness ; the  religious  sentiment  thus  accidentally  roused,  lures  her  into 
a reverie  ; the  crucifix  is  held  before  her  downcast  eyes  in  the  palm  of  her 
hand;  in  her  left,  with  grasp  unnerved  by  this  abstracted  mood,  rest, 
rather  than  are  held,  the  plumes  already  gathered  ; the  unconscious  atti- 
tude, the  fixed  gaze,  and  the  musing  air  betoken  her  absorbed  and  pre- 
occupied mind  ; the  expression  of  the  face 'is  pensive  and  thoughtful ; the 
deckings  of  vanity  are  evidently  forgotten  in  the  predominance  of  an  “idea 
dearer  than  self.”  It  is  a single  figure,  but  it  tells  a comprehensive  story 
— the  dawn  of  Christianity  upon  savage  life — the  first  glimmer  of  divine 
truth  upon  an  untamed  and  ignorant,  but  thoroughly  human  soul.  Such 
is  the  allegorical  lesson  of  the  statue  ; but  attention  is,  ere  long,  diverted 
from  the  myth,  truly  as  it  is  embodied,  to  the  details  of  the  execution  ; and, 
herein  Palmer’s  success  is  not  less  remarkable.  Perhaps  a better  torso 
was  never  modelled  in  this  country— it  is  a keen  pleasure  to  an  intelligent 
lover  of  nature  to  trace  the  sculptor’s  hand  in  the  truest  undulations  of 
surface,  the  most  correct  and  mobile  distribution  of  muscle,  and  the  almost 
breathing  convolutions  of  the  form — each  line  and  curve,  each  indentation 
and  swell,  has  the  chaste  expressiveness  of  nature.  An  eye  of  singular 
correctness,  and  a touch  of  rare  facility  and  temper,  could  alone  have 
reproduced — not  merely  the  form  of  humanity,  but — what  a genuine  artist 
will  understand — the  humanity  of  form.  It  is  needless  to  say,  that  a result 
like  this  could  never  have  been  attained,  except  by  the  aid  of  careful 
studies  from  life  ; and  the  artist  may  count  it  among  his  other  fortunate 
or,  we  prefer  to  say,  providential  advantages,  that,  in  this  country,  he  was 


Palmer. 


359 


enabled  to  profit  by  a living  model  of  such  admirable  proportions.  In  the 
face  he  has  carefully  followed  the  aboriginal  type ; it  is  Indian  in  feature 
and  genus — but,  in  accordance  with  his  invariable  principle,  the  details  are 
refined  upon,  so  as  to  combine  truth  to  the  general  faCts  with  an  artistic 
and  consistent  idealization.  The  back  of  this  statue,  alone,  is  a charming 
study,  anatomically  and  artistically  ; the  right  arm,  so  abstractedly  pendent, 
so  gracefully  wrought,  the  feet,  and  the  bosom,  challenge  scientific  scru- 
tiny, while  they  allure  the  worshipper  of  beauty. 

In  another  female  figure — the  “ White  Captive,”- the  artist  has  illustrated 
one  of  those  tragic  episodes  of  border  life  on  this  continent  so  frequently 
recorded  by  our  historians,  and  common  alike  to  the  annals  of  Puritan 
colonization  in  the  East  and  emigrant  experience  in  the  West. 

No  more  suggestive  incident  can  be  imagined  for  either  poetry,  romance, 
or  art,  than  the  fair,  youthful,  and  isolated  hostage  of  civilization  surrounded 
by  savage  captors.  In  this  instance,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  aborig- 
ines, the  prisoner  has  been  disrobed  and  the  hands  bound  ; thus  physically 
helpless  the  maiden  stands  before  her  relentless  enemies,  her  form  averted, 
but  her  face  turned  towards  them  as  if  to  confront  her  doom,  whatever  it 
may  prove  ; the  moment  chosen  by  the  sculptor  is  evidently  that  when  the 
full  consciousness  of  her  awful  fate  is  awakened — perhaps  the  morning 
after  the  capture,  when,  no  longer  fearing  pursuit,  the  savages  despoil  their 
beautiful  vidtim  and  gloat  over  her  anguish  ; she  is  no  longer  breathlessly 
hurried  onward,  but  standing  there  in  the  wilderness,  desolate  and  nude, 
realizes  through  everv  vein  and  nerve  the  horrors  of  her  situation  ; but 
virgin  purity  and  Christian  faith  assert  themselves  in  her  soul,  and  chasten 
the  agony  they  cannot  wholly  subdue  ; accordingly,  while  keen  distress 
marks  her  expression,  an  inward  comfort,  an  elevated  faith,  .combines  with 
and  sublimates  the  fear  and  pain.  Herein  is  the  triumph  of  the  artist.  The 
“White  Captive”  illustrates  the  power  and  inevitable  vidtory  of  Christian 
civilization  ; not  in  the  face  alone,  but  in  every  contour  of  the  figure,  in  the 
expression  of  the  feet  as  well  as  the  lips,  the  same  physical  subjugation, 
and  moral  self-control,  and  self-concentration  are  apparent.  The  “ beauty 
and  anguish  walking  hand  in  hand  the  downward  road  to  death  ” are  up- 
raised, intensified,  and  hallowed  by  that  inward  power  born  of  culture,  and 
that  elevated  trust  which  comes  from  religious  faith.  This  work  contrasts 
finely  with  the  artist’s  “ Indian  Girl,”  which  represents  civilization  going 
forth  to  meet  and  redeem  savage  life  ; while  the  “ White  Captive  ” shows 
the  same  civilization,  in  its  purest  form,  dragged  into  the  cruel  sphere  of 
barbarism,  yet  unsubdued  in  its  moral  superiority.  The  subject  is  thorough- 
ly American,  the  head  is  a type  of  native  female  beauty,  and  the  statue  is 
not  less  interesting  in  an  historical  than  harmonious  and  expressive  in  an 
artistic  point  of  view  : 


Ye  who  believe  Humanity,  when  shorn 

Of  all  the  mortal  guards  that  shield  our  life, 
Despoiled  and  outraged,  powerless,  forlorn — 

N o inward  armor  hath  to  meet  the  strife  ; — 


American  Artist  Life. 


360 


Gaze  on  her  gentlest  offspring  naked  here, 

And  girt  with  savage  foes  ; the  soft  wrists  bound, 
The  breath  suspended  in  the  grasp  of  fear  ; 

And  from  the  feet  which  consecrate  the  ground, 
Up  to  the  virgin  lips  and  earnest  brow, 

Behold  her  scml  triumphant  ! Nerves  may  quail 
And  fibres  quiver, — yet  a beauty  now, 

Transcending  nature,  thrills  those  features  pale, 
As,  through  her  anguish,  Love  and  F aith  we  see 
Not  vainly  strive  to  set  the  captive  free. 


Another  figure  considerably  below  the  life-size,  embodies  most  felicit- 
ously the  idea,  the  sentiment,  and  the  soul  of  “ Memory.”  A lovely  female 
figure  is  seated  in  all  the  graceful  and  unconscious  abandon  of  retrospection, 
upon  two  cushions,  as  if  she  had  instinctively  sunk  thereon,  beguiled  by 
some  objeCt  which  lures  her  into  the  dreamy  past ; at  her  side  an  elabo- 
rately carved  casket,  which  suggests  the  idea  that  an  old  letter,  a love  gift, 
a miniature,  or,  it  may  be,  a lock  of  hair,  accidentally  encountered,  has  called 
up  endeared  images,  or  a fond,  absorbing  experience.  Her  gaze  is  fixed  — 
but  evidently  upon  no  outward  objeCt ; it  is  abstract  with  introspection  ; at 
the  first  glance,  we  feel  it  is  not  the  shadowy  future  of  eager  expectation, 
nor  the  absorption  of  the  material  present  which  fills  her  rapt  conscious- 
ness— but  some  sweet  or  solemn  reality  of  her  inward  life,  which  she  is  so 
vividly  renewing,  in  her  inmost  thought,  that  all  around  her  is  forgotten, 
and  her  soul,  as  it  were,  lost  in  an  o’ermastering  vision — her  being  entranced 
in  an  “idea  dearer  than  self.”  The  attitude,  the  look,  nay  the  very  drapery, 
express  this  : it  is  an  incarnation  of  those  “ Pleasures  of  Memory”  which 
the  English  bard  elaborated  into  a didaCtic  poem.  Whether  it  be  a dream 
of  love,  of  youth,  of  home,  we  may  not  be  able  to  decide — but  that  the  spirit 
she  is  of  is  deeply,  fondly,  earnestly  reminiscent,  we  instantly  feel,  not  less 
by  the  fixed  and  dreamy  gaze  than  through  the  relaxed  muscles,  the  recep- 
tive posture,  the  way  in  which  the  arm  and  the  feet  are  disposed — the  care- 
less fall  of  the  slight  robe,  half-slipping  away  from  the  form,  yet  exquisitely 
graceful  in  its  adjustment.  The  countenance  is  not  classically  beautiful  ; 
its  eloquence  is  that  of  pure  and  significant,  loving  and  thoughtful  ex- 
pression. The  figure  is  admirably  adapted,  from  its  size,  its  simplicity, 
and  its  moral  beauty,  to  be  a “joy  forever”  in  boudoir,  study,  or  par- 
lor. It  is  original  in  treatment,  charming  in  sentiment,  masterly  in  exe- 
cution. 

“ Faith”  is  represented  in  the  form  of  a woman,  whose  aspeCt  unites  a 
certain  severity  of  contour  with  a tranquil  beauty  of  expression,  whereby 
both  face  and  figure  embody  a spiritual  significance.  The  eyes  are  up- 
lifted, the  lips  parted  with  an  eager  but  subdued  emotion  ; the  arms  are 
placidly  folded  over  the  bosom  ; the  drapery  is  chaste  and  graceful — the 
air  abstradled,  refined,  exalted  ; indeed,  the  figure  has  since  received  the 
name  of  “ Supplication,”  so  much  of  prayerful  aspiration  is  embodied 
therein  : the  original,  a bas-relief,  gave  the  cross  as  the  objedl  on  which 
that  holy  gaze  was  fixed  ; both  in  this  form  and  as  a single  figure  it  has 


Palmer. 


361 

been  such  a favorite  that  few  photographic  copies  of  any  work  of  sculpture 
have  had  so  large  a sale. 

A marble  portrait  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  executed  by  Palmer  for  Hon. 
Hamilton  Fish,  of  New  York,  is  a remarkable  work — evidently  wrought 
out  under  a clear  and  earnest  impression  of  Hamilton’s  genius  and  dispo- 
sition ; the  bust  from  life  by  Cerachi,  his  full-length  portrait  by  Trumbull, 
the  half-lengths  by  Stuart,  Robertson,  and  Earle,  and  the  profile  miniature 
by  Sharpless,  furnish  the  material  basis  of  Palmer’s  work  ; but  he  has  used 
them  all  with  thorough  ecledtic  insight — composing  therefrom  a complete 
representation  of  the  man  under  his  most  normal  and  individual  aspedt. 

Two  of  his  later  busts,  one  of  Moses  Taylor,  and  the  other  of  Mrs.  McCor- 
mick, are  marvels  of  plastic  skill,  conscientious  specimens  of  portraiture — 
with  none  of  the  inertness  and  evasive  manipulation  wdiich  render  so  many 
busts  without  significance.  The  blending  of  shrewdness  and  benevolence  and 
intelligence  and  bonhommie  in  the  head  of  the  merchant  is  full  of  individu- 
ality ; the  details  are  finally  worked  out,  and  the  type  is  singularly  American. 
The  bust  of  the  lady  is  so  gracefully  poised,  the  features  so  regular,  the 
head  so  naive , and  the  expression  so  feminine  and  sweet,  that  most  per- 
sons would  take  the  portrait  for  an  ideal.  The  hair  is  executed  with  Pal- 
mer’s unrivaled  tadt  and  taste. 

From  this  work  turn  to  one  of  the  artist’s  male  portrait-busts— of  which 
there  are  several  in  an  adjoining  room — that,  for  instance,  of  Erastus  Corning. 
Instantly  there  is  a positive  revelation  of  character;  the  brow,  alive  with 
pradtical  energy;  the  mouth,  remarkably  beautiful  in  itself,  expresses 
clearly  benignity  and  firmness,  exquisitely  blended  ; how  uncommon  the 
degree  and  precision  of  expressiveness  in  the  eye,  peculiarly  natural,  from 
the  shadow  cast  by  the  lid — twice  the  size  of  nature — but  in  marble,  giving 
the  effedt  of  the  absent  lashes  by  a similar  amount  of  shadow : the  finish 
is  so 'exadtly  like  a fleshy  surface,  that  the  hard  stone  loses  its  apparent 
density  and  glint ; it  not  only  has  the  flexible  appearance  of  life,  but  that 
of  the  skin  of  a man  of  sixty.  In  each  product  of  his  chisel  around  us, 
somewhat  of  these  merits  is  discernible  ; here  is  a boy’s  foot  which  looks 
warm  with  life,  so  vital  is  its  shape  and  surface  ; there  is  a mortuary  tablet 
— merely  a sad  face,  but  the  very  folds  of  the  cap  are  eloquent  of  death. 

Not  less  interesting,  though  in  a very  different  way,  is  a portrait  bust 
taken  from  a photograph  of  a noble  matron’ — a true  woman,  in  whom  great 
vigor  of  mind  and  energy  of  charadter  were  combined  with  benevolent 
feeling.  Imperfedt  as  was  his  material  (for  the  bust  was  taken  after  death, 
and  the  artist  never  saw  the  original),  by  scientific  skill  Palmer  reproduced 
all  the  characteristics  of  this  beloved  and  admired  woman — so  that  her 
kindred  wept  afresh  at  the  revelation,  and  recognized  anew  every  trait  and 
lineament  of  the  loved  and  the  lost.  The  drapery  is  so  accordant  with  the 
subjedt  as  to  give  it  the  effedt  of  an  ideal  bust ; and  we  do  not  wonder 
that  three  copies  in  marble  were  ordered  at  once.  A world  of  generous 
emotions,  a life  of  kindly  energy,  are  therein  embodied  ; it  is  the  face  and 
breast  and  head  of  such  a woman  as  heroes  love. 


362 


American  Artist  Life. 

To  show  the  absence  of  partiality  in  these  estimates,  let  us  refer  to  an 
elaborate  criticism  based  on  the  remarkable  photographs  of  Palmer’s  mar- 
bles, written  by  Dr.  Alfred  Woltman  in  the  Berlin  National  Zeituns:  of 
November  26,  1865.  Each  work  is  analyzed  with  minute  appreciation  : he 
observes  : — 

“To  the  ‘Good  Morning,’  among  the  genre  pieces,  and  to  the  ‘ Peace  in 
Bondage,’  among  those  of  a purely  ideal  character,  we  may  assign  the  same 
degree  of  excellence.  The  last  piece  represents  the  winged  two-thirds  figure 
of  a woman,  nude,  divinely  beautiful,  and  veiled  in  transparent  drapery 
from  the  hips  downward.  It  leans  against  and  is  bound  to  the  trunk  of  a 
tree.  The  countenance,  viewed  in  profile,  is  characterized  by  an  expres- 
sion of  acute  suffering.  The  dark  shadow  cast  on  the  brow  by  the  hair, 
and  the  rejected  olive  twig  that  surrounds  the  head,  intensifies  this  expres- 
sion. Whatever  technical  mastery  of  detail  or  subtlety  of  feeling  Palmer 
may  have  shown  in  the  execution  of  his  other  works,  he  has  never  equalled 
the  deliberate  power  that  he  exhibits  in  this.  The  treatment  of  the  nude 
upper  portion  of  the  figure  is  both  chaste  and  subtle.  In  the  rendering 
of  the  hair,  the  bark  of  the  trees,  and  the  plumage  of  the  wings,  the  artist 
has  achieved  a singular  triumph. 

“ ‘ Peace  in  Bondage  ’ is  an  inspiration  of  the  time.  Palmer  has  embod- 
ied in  this  figure  all  the  anguish  and  bitterness  of  the  civil  strife  that  has 
distraCted  his  native  land,  but  he  has  suggested  in  it  also  the  hope  of  a 
happier  destiny  in  the  future. 

“The  ‘Emigrant  Children  ’ is  a thoroughly  American  conception.  We 
perceive  a young  girl,  not  more  than  twelve  years  of  age,  as  virgin  as  the 
forest  in  which  she  wanders,  a guileless  child  of  nature,  clad  in  a simple 
blouse,  her  hair  smoothed  softly  back  and  falling  upon  her  shoulders.  Her 
features  are  perfedy  individual,  and  exhibit  character.  She  advances  and 
plants  her  left  foot  firmly  on  the  ground.  A younger  brother  half  leans, 
half  hangs,  upon  her  arm  for  protection,  while  he  gazes  curiously  on  the 
antlered  skull  of  a stag  (aptly  suggestive  of  the  surrounding  wild  woods) 
that  lies  bleaching  at  his  feet.” 

There  is  a little  wooden  house,  almost  lost  to  view  amid  its  more  osten- 
tatious neighbors,  in  the  handsome  avenue  at  Utica,  called  Genesee  street, 
which  was  built,  a few  years  ago,  by  Erastus  Palmer,  a thrifty  young  car- 
penter. When  he  put  the  last  touches  to  his  modest  but  comfortable 

domicile — the  work  of  his  own  hands,  and  the  fruit  of  long  and  patient 

industry — he  doubtless  felt  a glow  of  honest  pride,  and  a consciousness  of 
material  advancement,  so  often  the  reward  of  the  American  mechanic,  and 
usually  better  earned,  and  more  worthily  enjoyed,  than  by  any  other  class 
of  our  people.  In  the  basement  of  this  humble  dwelling,  and  during  the 

intervals  of  his  regular  toil  as  a joiner,  Palmer,  incited  by  the  sight  of  a 

cameo  portrait  he  saw,  and  prompted  by  a constructive  talent,  already  ex- 
hibited by  ingenious  .carvings  on  wood,  essayed,  with  a bit  of  shell  and  a 
file,  to  execute  a similar  head  of  his  wife.  Never  having  witnessed  the 
delicate  process,  his  work  was  purely  experimental,  yet  he  undertook  it 


Palmer. 


363 

with  singular  zest,  though  with  many  misgivings.  As  he  wrought  at  this, 
in  a double  sense,  real  labor  of  love,  and  subsequently  contemplated  the 
result,  the  impulse  to  a higher  sphere  than  had  yet  occupied  his  mind, 
began  to  stir  within  him  ; but  his  ability  was  not  less  marked  than  the  self- 
distrust which  usually  accompanies  genuine  merit,  and  he  longed  to  test 
his  aptitude  for  such  work  by  the  judgment  of  some  one  of  taste,  knowledge, 
and  experience.  Fortunately,  in  his  immediate  neighborhood  resided  a 
gentleman— one  of  those  rare  exceptions  to  the  mere  utilitarian  character 
of  our  professional  men— who  loved  art  for  its  own  sake,  was  familiar  with 
its  history  and  memorable  trophies,  and  honored  it  as  a career  with  the 
true  enthusiasm  of  a disciple  of  the  beautiful.  To  him  Palmer  determined 
to  submit  his  cameo.  It  was  a momentous  interview  for  the  neophyte  ; his 
aspirations  might  be  checked  by  indifference  ; his  consciousness  of  a voca- 
tion for  art  set  forever  aside,  if  unrecognized  by  one  he  believed  could 
speak  on  the  subjeCt  with  authority.  “ I was  sitting  in  my  office,”  says 
this  gentleman,  “one  summer  afternoon,  when  there  entered  a tall  man, 
whom  I remembered  as  an  honest  and  industrious  mechanic  of  the  town  ; 
his  dress  betokened  his  occupation,  his  manner  was  unassuming,  and  his 
expression  somewhat  anxious.  He  told  me  he  had  understood  I was  ac- 
quainted with  ‘ such  things,’ diffidently  exhibiting  his  cameo,  and  desired 
to  know  what  I thought  of  this.  I took  it  from  his  hand,  turned  it  to  the 
light,  and  carefully  examined  the  outline  and  finish.  Little  did  I then  realize 
the  earnest  feelings  which  agitated  this  new  Species  of  client ; my  surprise 
and  delight  were  immediate.  1 This,’  said  I,  ‘is  beautiful;  you  have  extra- 
ordinary talent.’  Hearing  no  response,  I looked  from  the  exquisite  me- 
dallion to  the  artist’s  face,  and  saw  the  tears  of  gratified  sympathy  in  his 
eyes.” 

Thenceforth  this  lover  of  art  became  the  warm  friend  of  the  future  sculptor. 
The  latter’s  next  effort  was  a likeness,  in  the  same  style,  of  one  who  had 
so  seasonably  encouraged  him  ; and  this  served  to  make  his  skill  public. 
For  two  years  he  was  constantly  and  profitably  engaged  in  a department 
of  art  in  which  successful  portraiture  is  rare.  I have  seen  many  of  the 
best  originals  and  plaster  copies  of  nearly  all  of  these  heads,  and  for  fidelity 
of  resemblance,  nicety  of  execution,  and  picturesque  arrangement,  they 
are  the  most  pleasing  specimens  imaginable  of  one  of  the  most  difficult 
and  beautiful  spheres  of  artistic  labor.  Some  of  them  are  perfedt  gems, 
and  far  more  satisfactory  than  most  of  the  cameo  portraits  for  which 
travellers  pay  such  exorbitant  prices  at  Rome.  The  cutting  is  bold, 
distinct,  unevasive  ; a masterly  air  is  evident  at  a glance,  and  it  seems  mar- 
velous that  a hand,  previously  habituated  to  the  coarser  efforts  of  the 
joiner,  could,  in  so  brief  a space,  acquire  facility  in  the  most  delicate  work- 
manship. From  shell-cutting  to  basso-relievo  in  clay  is  a natural  transi- 
tion ; but  the  consistent  zeal  of  Palmer  might  have  long  confined  him  to 
the  limited  range  of  his  earliest  success,  had  not  the  detaits  of  the  work 
seriously  affeCted  his  eyes.  After  a somewhat  unprosperous  sojourn  in 
New  York,  he  returned  to  Utica,  with  his  sight  much  weakened,  and  his 


American  Artist  Life. 


364 

sight  much  weakened,  and  his  spirits  depressed,  from  a conviction  that 
this  infirmity  would  compel  him  to  abandon  the  new  and  elevated  life  of 
art  for  his  old  mechanical  employment,  as  the  only  available  means  to 
support  his  family.  On  this  occasion  he  had  recourse  to  the  same  loyal 
friend  who  first  urged  him  on  the  career  he  loved,  and  he  proved  again  a 
faithful  counsellor — citing  the  remark  of  an  experienced  artist,  to  whom  he 
stated  the  case  : “This  is  providential;  he  will  now  model  in  clay,  and 
achieve  wonders.”  And  so  it  proved.  With  the  “ Infant  Ceres  ” he  fairly 
began  the  pursuit  of  a sculptor,  and  with  it,  a methodical  course  of  self- 
education.  Having  been  at  school  but  six  months  in  his  life,  he  began, 
with  his  intelligence  quickened  in  every  direction  by  the  associations  of 
his  present  employment,  keenly  to  feel  the  want  of  early  advantages  ; and, 
with  characteristic  energy,  to  atone  for  the  deficiency  by  every  means  in 
his  power.  His  evenings  were  devoted  to  study ; he  profited  by  the 
counsel  and  the  discourse  of  eminent  men,  who  interested  themselves  in 
his  welfare  ; and  for  many  hours,  daily,  his  wife  read  aloud  to  him  the 
best  English  authors.  It  is  marvellous  how  loyalty  to  one  source  of  truth 
opens  avenues  to  all  others  ; how  earnestness  in  a single  aim  intensifies 
and  widens  the  general  intelligence  ; and  as  our  artist  has  progressed  in 
his  special  occupation,  his  ideas  on  all  subjects  have  multiplied,  his 
knowledge  of  beauty  under  all  forms  has  deepened,  his  vocabulary,  faculty 
of  acquisition,  and  whole  mental  and  moral  discipline  have  steadily  ad- 
vanced. 

In  one  of  those  rural  homesteads,  which  proved  the  fruitful  nursery  of 
our  first  race  of  patriots,  where  neither  luxury  enervates,  nor  want  harasses, 
with  nature  around,  faith  within,  and  honest  toil  the  only  condition  of  un- 
ambitious prosperity,  Erastus  D.  Palmer  first  saw  the  light.  He  was 
born  in  Pompey,  Onondaga  County,  N.  Y.,  April  2,  1817.  The  farm-house 
stood  in  the  midst  of  an  orchard,  with  a brook  in  the  rear  and  meadows  in 
front,  about  nine  miles  from  Syracuse.  It  was  surrounded  by  woods  ; and 
the  rustic  boyhood  of  the  future  artist  was  familiar,  at  home  and  under  the 
adjacent  roofs  of  both  his  grandparents,  with  reminiscences  of  wolves  and 
panthers  that  hung  around  the  new  settlement.  On  the  broad  clearing 
upon  which  his  eyes  opened,  however,  rosy  apples  and  russet  pears,  waving 
grain  and  a tall  butternut-tree  gave  assurance  of  peace  and  plenty,  and 
the  local  features  of  the  domain  have  since  undergone  little  change.  A 
rib  of  pork,  suspended  by  a cord  to  roast  before  the  hickory  fire,  was  the 
usual  signal  of  a good  dinner.  He  remembers  a famous  wheat  crop,  and 
the  huge  straw  rick,  that  he  and  his  brother  carefully  excavated  into 
a symmetrical  dome,  where  their  childish  treasures  were  secreted,  and 
they  played  hermits — finding  the  impromptu  thatched  cottage,  in  summer, 
a cool  retreat,  and  in  winter  a warm  domicile.  His  first  adventure  was  to 
catch  a woodpecker  asleep  on  a rail  in  the  hush  of  early  morning ; and 
his  first  grief  to  see  its  head  chopped  off.  One  day  he  came  home,  in  a 
flush  of  joyful  excitement,  with  a beautiful  autumnal  oak-leaf.  The  pleasure 
it  gave  was  the  dawn  of  that  love  of  beauty  and  delight  in  natural  forms, 


Palmer. 


365 


that  prophesies  the  instinct  for  art  ; and,  inspired  by  this  feeling,  he  carved 
its  outline  and  veins  on  a bit  of  wood  with  great  exactitude.  The  anec- 
dote is  as  significant  as  Audubon’s  rapture  over  the  bird’s  nest  he  found 
when  a child,  amid  the  grass,  and  rudely  copied  from  memory.  The 
neighborhood  of  his  birthplace  is  associated  with  one  of  those  domestic 
tragedies  which  become  local  traditions,  and  are  often  embodied  by  poetry 
and  romance.  Near  by  lived  a fair  lunatic,  whose  harmless  life  and  melan- 
choly fate  made  her  a favorite  guest  in  every  dwelling.  Her  loveliness 
won  an  admirer  unworthy  of  her  affedtion,  who,  within  a few  months  of  the 
wedding-day,  clandestinely  transferred  his  plighted  faith  to  the  sister  of 
his  betrothed  ; absenting  himself  on  pretence  of  business,  he  only  returned 
on  the  appointed  day  of  the  bridal,  and,  without  a word  of  explanation, 
married  his  new  love.  The  shock  benumbed  the  consciousness  of  the  poor 
victim,  and  she  fell,  in  her  wedding-robe,  to  the  earth,  insensible,  and 
only  recovered  with  reason  overthrown.  “ Crazy  Lucy  ” thenceforth 
roamed  from  house  to  house,  the  welcome  recipient  of  shelter  and  food, 
coming  and  going,  a privileged  wanderer ; sometimes  seated  under  a tree 
patching  gay-colored  shreds,  in  fantastic  array,  on  her  humble  dress,  and 
sometimes  combing  her  luxuriant  tresses — as  if  in  preparation  for  the 
marriage  rite.  Her  gentleness  and  calamity  gained  for  her  universal 
respeCt  and  sympathy  ; and  the  rudest  swain  feared  to  molest  the  deserted 
bride.  Fifteen  years  after  the  catastrophe,  one  morning  she  awoke 
in  her  right  mind  ; during  the  interval  she  had  been  unconscious  of  the 
flight  of  time,  and  her  first  thought  now  was,  that  of  the  day  when  her  in- 
telligence was  eclipsed  ; she  started  with  anguish  at  the  sight  of  her  hand, 
now  wrinkled  and  old — and  soon  remembered  her  sudden  abandonment 
and  the  treachery  of  those  she  loved.  There  was,  however,  no  lapse  of 
intellect ; but  the  arrow,  so  long  blunted  by  delusion,  was  now  barbed  ; 
she  lingered  tranquilly  awhile,  and  then  passed  away. 

In  the  freshness  of  his  youth  Palmer  left  these  scenes,  according  to  the 
prevalent  impulse  of  the  country,  to  exercise  his  mechanical  skill  more 
profitably  at  a distance  from  home.  He  had  always  handled  tools  with 
facility,  and  excelled  as  a carpenter.  When  nine  years  old,  he  had  made 
a little  saw-mill,  which  was  the  wonder  of  the  village  ; at  twelve,  he  had 
no  superior  in  the  vicinity,  as  a constructor  of  window-sashes  ; and  many  a 
wooden  horse  of  his  juvenile  manufacture  excited  the  admiration  of  his 
comrades,  and  became  the  ornament  of  their  shelves.  When  seventeen, 
he  left  the  beautiful  agricultural  district,  in  company  with  two  young  men, 
to  visit  the  far  west,  as  the  limits  of  his  native  State  were  then  deemed. 
The  journey  was  to  be  performed  on  foot ; but  his  companions,  ere  long, 
manifested  a want  of  independence,  sadly  at  variance  with  the  extravagant 
hopes  they  cherished.  Although  resolved,  as  they  declared,  to  return  in 
their  carriages,  they  yet  proposed  to  save  the  small  sum  appropriated  to 
the  expenses  of  the  march,  by  asking  for  lodging  and  food  on  the  way. 
Palmer,  whose  manliness  revolted  at  this  want  of  self-respeCt,  could  not 
believe  them  in  earnest,  until,  on  the  second  noon  of  their  pilgrimage,  one 


366 


American  Artist  Life. 


actually  demanded  refreshment  at  a way-side  farm.  He  then  expressed  his 
opinion  of  this  needless  sacrifice  of  self-respedt,  and  hastened  onward  alone. 

At  nightfall  he  realized  the  truth  of  the  homely  proverb,  that  “ Heaven 
always  helps  those  who  help  themselves.”  Ashamed  of  such  spiritless 
friends  at  the  very  outset  of  life’s  struggle,  he  trudged  rapidly  away  from 
them,  and  at  evening  reached  a little  inn,  where  he  called  for  his  supper. 
As  he  sat  by  the  fire,  another  traveller  entered — a hale  old  farmer — who, 
having  refreshed  himself,  began  a conversation  with  the  youth,  and  learn- 
ing his  destination,  urged  him  to  accept  a seat  in  his  wagon,  as  their  roads 
were  the  same.  This  incident  made  a great  impression  on  the  young- 
adventurer,  and  he  regarded  it  as  providential.  The  rest  of  the  long  jour- 
ney to  Dunkirk  was  performed  without  fatigue,  and  in  comfort. 

In  the  steady  pursuit  of  his  calling,  he  remained  there  more  than  six  years, 
always  in  receipt  of  good  wages,  and  then  established  himself  nearer  home, 
at  the  town  of  Amsterdam,  now  on  the  track  of  the  N.  Y.  Central  Railroad. 
There  he  also  found  constant  and  lucrative  employment,  some  of  the  substan- 
tial results  of  which  are  yet  visible,  which  he  has  the  honest  pride  to  desig- 
nate as  landmarks  of  a career  wherein  the  skilful  mechanic  rose  to  the 
consummate  artist.  Ability  in  the  former  vocation  has  been  a constant 
benefit.  He  recently  invented  a measure,  that  facilitates  greatly  the  pur- 
poses of  his  art,  and  refused  to  secure  a patent,  that  the  instrument  might 
be  freely  used  by  artists.  In  this  village  he  partook  of  the  hearty  recrea- 
tions of  Dutch  pastime,  and  attended  many  a “fuddle,”  such  as  colonial 
annalists  have  recorded,  and  Irving  has  snatched  from  oblivion  in  his 
Knickerbocker  Legends.  A board  laid  across  an  empty  barrel,  to  hold 
the  fiddler’s  legs,  and  thus  economize  room  for  the  dancers,  served  as  an 
orchestra.  “ Lead  out  your  heifer,”  was  the  Dutch  signal  for  a rustic 
dance  ; and  many  a buxom  lass  kept  up  the  sport  from  sunset  to  dawn, 
without  a sign  of  weariness.  Here  Palmer  married  a farmer’s  daughter, 
and  soon  after  removed  to  Utica,  where  he  was  specially  occupied  in  the 
more  artistic  labors  of  his  trade,  and  his  services  were  in  constant  demand 
when  an  original  stove-pattern  or  an  elaborate  staircase  was  required. 
The  manner  in  which  he  emerged  from  this  sphere  to  that  of  pure  art,  has 
been  already  traced  ; and  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  while  the  same 
habits  of  application  and  integrity  have  marked  his  subsequent  life,  the 
spirit  in  which  he  has  worked  has  never  ceased  to  be  as  true  to  modesty 
as  to  aspiration.  He  could  afford  to  remain  silent  when  a complacent 
foreign  amateur,  visiting  his  studio,  called  his  noblest  efforts  “pretty,” 
and  took  it  for  granted  he  had  never  heard  of  Canova.  “ Lie  has  never 
been  abroad,”  remarked  a gentleman  in  Florence  to  Powers,  when  show- 
ing him  a daguerreotype  of  one  of  Palmer’s  works.  “ He  never  need  to 
come,”  replied  the  artist.  So  profound,  indeed,  is  his  sense  of  the  ideal, 
that  the  remarkable  success  already  obtained,  instead  of  causing  elation, 
has  but  awakened  more  thoroughly  his  artistic  conscience.  He  feels  like 
one  to  whom,  by  virtue  of  certain  endowments,  has  been  intrusted  a great 
mission  ; he  is  oppressed  with  a consciousness  of  the  spiritual  authority  of 


Palmer. 


367 


art ; and  while  this  faith  a<5ts  as  a high  inspiration,  it  also  creates  a feeling 
of  responsibility — an  earnest  desire  to  be  true  to  exalted  requirements. 
This  is  the  test  of  the  artist,  in  the  legitimate  meaning  of  the  term.  It  is 
the  view  always  cherished  by  those  whose  skill  and  purpose  transcend  the 
mechanical  and  the  imitative.  It  is  the  best  pledge  of  progressive  achieve- 
ment, the  sanction  that  distinguishes  genius  from  talent.  It  isolates  the 
mind  wherein  it  lives  from  vulgar  praise  and  mercenary  ends  ; it  engen- 
ders a self-imposed  criticism,  more  severe  than  any  public  ordeal ; it  con- 
secrates the  soul  to  the  worship  of  beauty,  as  the  manifestation  of  truth ; 
it  implies  an  inward  thirst,  which  fame  cannot  slake,  and  a calling  too 
high  to  be  diverted  by  any  material  compensation  ; and  it  is  because  we 
have  found  this  spirit  in  a native,  self-taught  sculptor,  that  we  have  endea- 
vored thus,  with  sympathetic  greeting,  to  bid  him  God-speed  ! 

It  is  absolute  fidelity  to  the  essential  in  nature,  combined  with  a peculiar 
feeling  for  beauty  in  her  absolute  relations,  that  gives  to  Palmer’s  executive 
skill  a meaning  and  a value  of  its  own.  He  not  only  has  the  language  of 
art,  but  something  always  genuine  to  say  in  that  divine  vocabulary.  In 
conversation,  I elicited  a few  of  the  elements  of  the  faith  that  is  in  him, 
enough  to  confirm  the  inference  unavoidable  from  his  works — that  no  lucky 
accident  ushered  him  on  the  way  of  progressive  excellence,  but  the  faithful 
exercise  of  his  intelligence,  inspired  by  an  instinctive  love  of  beauty.  In 
the  first  place,  he  is  repelled  by  the  mannerism  engendered  by  too  gregari- 
ous a life  among  the  votaries  of  art ; he  is  wisely  jealous  of  academic  con- 
ventionality ; he  believes  the  aim  and  origin  of  art  to  be,  in  the  last  analysis, 
spiritual,  and,  therefore,  to  be  mainly  sought  in  the  individual  study  of 
Nature,  and  interpretation  of  her  principles  ; he  relies  more  upon  unham- 
pered observation  and  earnest  feeling,  more  upon  consciousness,  than  pre- 
scription. He  asserts  what  is  apparently  paradoxical,  but  literally  true  ; 
that,  in  order  to  make  a good  likeness,  we  must  deviate  from  nature.  He 
repudiates  absolute  imitation,  and  recognizes  in  art  the  truth,  that  it  is  not 
her  function  to  copy  but  to  represent , and  in  order  to  do  this,  effects,  not 
imitation,  must  be  the  aim.  In  the  instance  already  referred  to,  for  ex- 
ample, it  is  requisite  to  make  the  eyelid,  in  marble,  larger  than  in  life,  in 
order  to  make  up  for  the  absence  of  the  lashes,  which  cannot  be  repre- 
sented otherwise  ; and  so  in  regard  to  the  hair — its  texture  cannot  be  im- 
itated in  stone,  but  the  effeCt  of  it,  and  an  appropriate  arrangement,  will 
secure  the  desired  result.  To  carry  out  what  Nature  hints,  to  give  her  obvi- 
ous intention  by  seizing  the  best  characteristic  expression,  the  better  mo- 
ments, the  soulful  mood — what  the  individual  face  indicates,  but  rarely  ex- 
presses— is  his  great  objeCt.  And  is  not  this,  in  point  of  faCt,  the  true 
interpretation  that  Art  owe  sto  Nature  ? Are  not  the  soft  light  in  the  eye,  the 
dimple  born  of  sympathetic  smiles,  the  expanding  nostril  under  noble  ex- 
citement, the  kindling  look,  the  heart-born  glow,  what  we  really  see,  recall, 
cherish,  and  so  identify  with  those  we  love,  that  the  bust  or  picture  that 
conveys  none  of  these  attributes  of  the  soul’s  proper  individuality,  is  to  us 
but  a meaningless  effigy  ? 


368 


American  Artist  Life. 

The  studio  described  at  the  commencement  of  this  sketch  is  now  super- 
seded by  one  more  eligibly  situated  and  better  arranged. 

“ Mr.  Palmer  has  here  the  best  studio  in  the  country,”  writes  an  Albany 
correspondent, — “ best  adapted  for  his  work  of  modelling,  where  the  clay  can 
take  such  shape  of  copy  of  the  thought  or  the  design  as  the  true  light  for 
art  shows.  A superb  window,  sixteen  by  eight,  with  panes  of  four  feet 
glass,  admits  the  northern  sun,  and  this  so  guarded  by  adjustment  of 
covering  as  to  make  the  ray  or  shadow  fall  on  the  face  of  the  work 
as  shall  most  truthfully  reveal  the  truth  of  the  features — for  it  is  the 
extraordinary  excellence  of  Mr.  Palmer  that,  while  his  whole  heart  is  in 
the  ideal — that  while  he  would  far  rather  be  occupied  with  that  in  his  work 
from  life — he  makes  vraisemblance  his  first,  his  paramount  duty.  He 
builds  in  marble  the  bust,  the  medallion  to  be  just  as  life  made  the  human- 
ity ; and  he  would  regard  the  labor  as  lost  if  child  or  kindred  should  first 
say,  ‘how  beautiful!’  The  first  word  he  wishes  is,  ‘how  like!’  And 
around  this  room,  securely  shelved,  is  a large  collection  of  casts,  that  tell 
of  the  success  with  which  he  has  given  to  the  immortality  of  stone,  women 
and  men  who  were,  by  themselves  or  their  friends,  so  wise  as  to  commit 
their  memory  to  his  record.” 

Thus,  prosperity  as  well  as  fame  has  crowned  his  labors  ; fortunate 
investments  have  made  him  independent  of,  but  not,  we  trust,  indifferent 
to,  art.  Indeed,  it  is  the  redeeming  grace  of  this  self-made  and  progres- 
sive kind  of  artist-life,  that  its  worthy  votary  cherishes  an  honest  pride  in 
what  he  has  overcome,  as  well  as  in  what  he  has  accomplished  ; a trophy  of 
his  mechanical  skill  and  humble  initiation  into  his  high  vocation,  should 
awaken  only  gratitude  and  self-respeCt.  We  always  recognized  the  true 
manliness  of  Chantrey : when  he  first  gave  artistic  promise,  after  working 
as  a carver,  and  the  poet  Rogers  invited  him  to  dine,  the  sculptor  looked 
intently  at  the  sideboard,  and  his  host  asked  the  reason:  “ Don’t  you 
remember,”  said  Chantrey,  “getting  out  your  prints,  and  directing  those 
carvings  to  the  man  who  made  that  sideboard,  and  that  a boy  with  him 
copied  the  engravings  ? — that  was  me,  and  I carved  them.” 

We  deem  it  indeed  one  of  the  most  fortunate  circumstances  in  the  career 
of  Palmer,  that  his  youth  was  thoroughly  disciplined  by  mechanical  indus- 
try, his  ingenuity  taxed  in  the  economical  aptitudes  of  labor,  and  his  hand 
and  eye  made  strong  and  adaptive  in  the  more  humble  vocation  of  the  arti- 
san. This  is  a practical  skill  unattainable  in  mature  life;  we  have  known 
gifted  men  whose  early  years  have  been  passed  in  universities — full  of 
knowledge  and  enamored  of  the  beautiful — to  become  artists,  and  their 
executive  power  has  fallen  infinitely  short  of  their  conceptions  and  invent- 
ive faculty. 

Palmer  could  never  have  embodied  effectually  his  feeling  but  through 
habitudes  acquired  in  the  wholesome  school  of  manual  toil.  He  knew  the 
alphabet  thoroughly,  before  he  attempted  to  express  what  his  sentiment 
and  imagination  suggested  ; hence  the  Cameos  and  the  “ Infant  Ceres” — 
his  earliest  productions,  bear  the  evidences  of  mature  skill.  Bu.t  the  power 


Palmer. 


369 


of  expression  is  not  all ; it  is  a great  question — what  has  an  artist  to  say  ? 
In  this  instance  the  answer  is  obvious.  A distinctive  and  remarkable 
trait  in  Palmer,  is  his  definite  and  individual  sense  of  beauty,  especially 
that  involved  in  the  human  face  and  form.  He  is  original  in  this  regard, 
inasmuch  as  the  beauty  he  embodies  is  not  conventional — cannot  be 
described  as  of  a classic  or  romantic  type,  as  of  Grecian,  Roman,  or  Etrus- 
can  mould — but  only  as  natural — the  fruit  of  wise  observation  and 
instinCtive  feeling.  Look  at  the  blandness,  sweet  candor,  and  divine 
repose  which  beams  from  the  ideal  bust  of  “ Resignation,” — at  the  pure 
dimples  and  maidenly  childhood  of  “Spring,” — at  the  calm,  earnest  trust 
in  the  gaze  of  “ Faith,” — at  the  blended  devotion  and  anguish  in  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  “ White  Captive,”  and  you  feel  that  thus  looks  forth  the 
soul  from  its  earthly  tabernacle ; that  thus  brow  and  lip  are  irradiated 
with  beauty  from  the  inward  fountain  of  spiritual  life  ; that  this  is  to 
embody  and  embalm,  illustrate  and  consecrate  humanity  in  plastic  art. 

So  much  for  expression.  It  seizes  upon,  and  wins  our  sympathies,  and 
accordingly  we  know  it  was  caught  from  nature,  as  revealed  to  the  scru- 
tiny and  verified  by  the  consciousness  of  the  artist.  This  is  Palmer’s 
great  distinction.  He  looks  to  nature  for  the  faCt,  and  to  his  own  feeling 
for  the  rendering  thereof ; and  he  has  the  observant  power,  and  the  true 
sympathy  thus  to  interpret — added  to  which  is  an  exquisite  manual  skill, 
whereby  the  details  of  his  work  are  perfectly  wrought.  Hence,  however 
limited  his  scope  or  special  his  ability,  he  is  endowed  and  equipped  for 
Art ; his  ideal  busts  are  fresh  creations  ; his  statues  new  types,  and  we 
can  give  him  no  better  counsel  or  greeting  than  “ to  thine  own  self  be 
true.” 


24 


CHURCH. 


HE  indomitable  explorative  enterprise  of  the  New  England 
mind  Church  has  carried  into  landscape  art,  the  infinite 
possibilities  whereof,  as  accessory  to  and  illustrative  of 
natural  science,  were  long  ago  foreseen  by  Humboldt,  into 
whose  views  the  young  American  painter  entered  with 
ardor  and  intelligence.  It  seems  to  us  a most  pleasing 
coincidence  that,  when  Church  sojourned  in  the  vicinity  of  Quito,  in  order 
to  study  tropical  landscape,  he  lodged  beneath  the  roof  and  shared  the 
hospitality  of  the  same  family  with  whom  Humboldt  found  a home  fifty 
years  before,  while  making  his  scientific  researches  in  the  same  region. 
His  name  is  cherished  by  the  household  with  traditional  love  and  honor, 
and  his  portrait,  as  a youth,  and  in  the  costume  of  a Prussian  officer,  is 
preserved  in  the  chamber  he  occupied.  Half  a century  later,  the  artist 
who  was  to  do  for  South  America  in  art  what  the  savant  had  done  in 
science,  like  him  came  wearied  at  night,  to  repose  in  the  same  apartment, 
cheered  by  the  effigy  of  the  illustrious  philosopher  who,  then  and  there, 
unknown  to  fame,  had  toiled  to  make  the  remote  wonders  of  nature 
known  to  all  the  civilized  world.  Church  brought  home  a copy  of  this  por- 
trait, which  offers  a singular  contrast  to  those  of  later  dates  with  which 
we  are  familiar  in  this  country. 

Enterprise  is,  indeed,  a prominent  characteristic  of  Church  ; he  has 
had  the  bravery  to  seek  and  the  patience  to  delineate  subjects  here, 
tofore  scarcely  recognized  by  art,  one  of  whose  benign  missions  it  is 
to  extend  the  enjoyment  which  time  and  space  limit,  and  bring  into  mutual 
and  congenial  acquaintance  the  most  widely  separated  glories  of  the  uni- 
verse. “ It  is  but  a very  small  portion  of  the  earth’s  surface,”  says  Leslie, 
“ that  has  been  cultivated,  so  to  speak,  by  the  landscape  painter,  because, 
indeed,  all  art  has  been  confined  within  a narrow  geographical  limit.  The 
few  transcripts  that  have  been  brought  to  Europe  from  distant  lands,  are 
from  the  hands  of  amateurs  or  inferior  painters,  who  have  been  unable  to 
express  the  truth  of  atmosphere,  the  greatest  difficulty  as  it  is  the  most 
important  of  all  the  requisites  of  landscape  art,  for  without  it  we  can  never 
transport  ourselves  to  the  climes  represented.”  Precisely  herein  has  been 
the  signal  triumph  of  such  American  artists  as  Church  and  Bierstadt  ; 


Church. 


37i 


both  have  explored  distant  regions  for  characteristic  and  fresh  themes  ; 
and  both  have  succeeded  in  giving  the  true  expression  of  local  atmosphere, 
so  that  the  sky  that  overhangs  and  the  aerial  environment  that  surrounds 
the  Andes  and  the  Rocky  Mountains,  truthfully  fill  the  imagination  through 
the  vision.  It  was  by  a gradual  transition  that  Church  advanced  from  the 
faithful  rendition  of  details,  to  a comprehensive  realism  in  general  effedt, 
as  a comparison  of  his  early  with  his  recent  pictures  demonstrates  ; but 
from  the  first,  an  attempt  to  transcend  the  most  common  and  familiar,  and 
to  represent  the  most  impressive  phases  and  phenomena,  is  apparent  ; then 
it  was  justly  said  by  one  of  his  critics,  he  painted  “ with  almost  crude  em- 
phasis.” The  sky  was  the  field  of  his  earliest  triumphs  ; some  of  its  most 
remarkable  and  least  delineated  phases  in  the  western  hemisphere,  he 
boldly  and  truly  transferred  to  canvas.  Few  artists  have  so  profoundly 
and  habitually  studied  sunshine  and  atmosphere.  It  has  long  been  his 
daily  custom  to  ascend  a hill,  near  his  country  home,  to  observe  the  sun- 
set ; and  in  his  landscapes  “the  earth  is  always  painted  with  reference  to 
the  skies,”  which  is  one  reason  of  their  truth  to  nature.  A want  of  soft- 
ness, or  rather  too  great  emphasis,  in  his  conceptions,  was  deemed  his 
great  fault ; but  this  is  mainly  owing  to  his  choice  of  subjects.  As  an 
orator  seeks  a theme  fitted  to  give  ample  scope  to  rhetoric,  an  artist  of 
scientific  eloquence  naturally  inclines  to  the  phenomenal  and  the  charac- 
teristic, not  so  much  from  the  love  of  effeCt,  as  from  an  instinClive  interest 
in  such  scenes  and  objeCts  in  nature  as  are  exceptional  and  impressive. 
Thus,  before  he  explored  tropical  scenery,  or  ice-haunted  waters,  he  found 
in  the  magnificent  clouds  of  America,  in  her  autumn-tinted  forests  and  her 
peerless  cataraCts,  the  most  congenial  and  inspiring  subjects.  His  taste 
in  reading  suggests  a scientific  bias  ; he  has  long  been  attracted  by  the 
eleCtrical  laws  of  the  atmosphere,  and  has  improved  every  opportunity  to 
study  the  Aurora  Borealis  : having  achieved  so  much  in  the  way  of  repre- 
senting light  from  the  pure  depths  of  the  zenith  to  the  brilliant  radiance 
of  the  horizon,  we  may  anticipate  for  him  new  and  remarkable  triumphs  in 
the  more  evanescent  phenomena  dependent  on  eleCtric  causes.  Ruskin, 
when  he  first  saw  Church’s  “Niagara,”  pointed  out  an  effeCt  of  light  upon 
water  which  he  declared  he  had  often  seen  in  nature,  especially  among  the 
Swiss  waterfalls,  but  never  before  on  canvas  ; and  so  perfeCt  is  the  optical 
illusion  of  the  iris  in  the  same  marvellous  picture,  that  the  circumspeCt 
author  of  the  Modern  Painters  went  to  the  window  and  examined  the 
glass,  evidently  attributing  the  prismatic  bow  to  the  refraCtion  of  the  sun.  It 
seemed  logical  to  refer  such  novel  triumphs  to  the  patient  and  exclusive  study 
of  nature.  The  proof  of  the  scientific  interest  of  such  landscapes  as  have 
established  Church’s  popularity,  may  be  found  in  the  vivid  and  authentic 
illustrations  they  afford  of  descriptive  physical  geography.  No  one  conver- 
sant with  the  features  of  climate,  vegetation,  and  distribution  of  land  and 
water  that  characterize  the  portions  of  North  and  South  America,  as  repre- 
sented by  this  artist,  can  fail  to  recognize  them  all  in  his  delineations.  It 
is  not  that  they  merely  give  us  a vague  impression,  but  a positive  embodi- 


372 


American  Artist  Life . 


ment  of  these  traits.  The  minute  peculiarities  of  sky,  atmosphere,  trees, 
rocks,  rivers,  and  herbage  are  pictured  with  the  fidelity  of  a naturalist. 
Ardtic  voyagers  have  borne  testimony  to  the  exactness  of  certain  phases 
of  ice-formations  in  the  bergs  depidted  by  Church  ; the  descriptions  of 
tropical  scenery  by  Humboldt  find  their  pidtorial  counterpart  in  the  “ Heart 
of  the  Andes,”  “ Cotopaxi,”  and  “ Chimborazo  ; ” and  his  views  of  the  Hud- 
son, the  coast  of  Maine,  and  other  scenes  in  our  Eastern  and  Middle 
States,  directly  appeal  to  the  observers  thereof,  under  the  various  aspedts 
of  the  season  and  hour  of  the  day  chosen. 

Among  the  less  elaborate  but  equally  characteristic  works  of  this  artist, 
is  a fantastic  but  genuine  sky-study,  widely  circulated  at  the  outbreak  of 
the  civil  war,  in  the  form  of  a colored  lithograph,  and  entitled  “ Our  Banner 
in  the  Sky,”  whereby,  through  an  ingenious  yet  natural  sun-emblazoned 
cloud-study,  the  folds  of  our  national  banner,  with  stars  shining  in  the 
firmament,  are  delineated  with  effedtive  truth,  while  the  leafless  trunk  of  a 
tree  indicates  the  staff.  A more  recent  picture  represents  the  Island  of 
Mount  Desert,  off  the  coast  of  Maine,  with  the  peculiar  yeasty  waves  and 
lurid  glow  incident  to  a dry  autumnal  storm  in  northern  latitudes.  It  is 
one  of  those  November  or  late  Odtober  mornings;  the  sun  glows  red 
through  a murky  sky.  It  has  been  objebted  that  it  should  not  be  blue 
above,  to  give  the  color  imparted  to  the  water  ; but  strange  and  exceptional 
are  the  freaks  of  the  elements  under  conditions  like  those  represented  ; 
and  if  two  incompatible  effedts  have  been  combined  in  this  instance,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  of  the  transcendent  ability  wherewith  the  waves  and  coast 
are  portrayed.  “ Here,”  says  a critic,  who  suggests  the  very  defedt  com- 
plained of,  “ is  magnificent  force  in  the  sea  ; we  give  ourselves  up  to  enthu- 
siasm for  it,  regarded  as  pure  power;  when  it  dies  its  final  death  in  mad 
froth  and  vapor,  tossed  quite  to  the  top  of  the  beetling  barrier  crags  on  the 
right  foreground,  we  feel  ourselves  in  an  audacious  adtual  presence,  whose 
passion  moves  us  almost  like  a living  fadt  of  surf.  We  value  the  light 
effedts  separately,  and  the  fine  recklessness  of  color  by  itself,  among  the 
best  instances  of  Church’s  power.” 

Time  was  vvhen  a landscape  was  painted  by  a kind  of  mathematical  for- 
mula ; rules  of  composition,  far  more  than  observation  of  fadt,  formed  the 
basis  of  the  work ; one  side  must  be  higher  than  the  other,  here  must  be 
light,  there  shade  ; and  academic  precedent  fairly  usurped  this  most  uncon- 
ventional branch  of  art.  To  what  an  absurd  and  destrudtive  point  this 
system  may  be  carried,  we  have  a memorable  instance  in  the  fadtitious 
success  of  David  and  his  school.  And  it  was  long  deemed  essential  to  an 
American  student  that  he  should  go  abroad  and  learn  tricks  of  light,  and 
how  to  manage  color  for  effedl.  But  here  is  a painter  who  has  never  been  in 
Europe,  and  who,  having  acquired  the  requisite  dexterity  in  the  use  of  the 
pencil,  went  confidently  to  Nature  herself,  using  his  eyes  and  his  intelli- 
gence, and  striving  to  reproduce  what  he  saw,  knew,  and  felt.  Unhampered 
by  pedantic  didadtion,  acquiring  his  own  style,  patiently  working  from  care- 
ful observation,  he  produced  landscapes,  or  rather  pibtures,  of  special  ob- 


Church. 


373 


jeCts  of  the  greatest  beauty  and  interest — like  Niagara,  Icebergs,  and  a 
Volcano — so  true,  impressive,  and  natural,  as  to  charm  with  love  and  won- 
der veteran  adherents  of  routine,  and  win  the  ardent  praise  of  the  most 
scientific  and  artistic  lovers  of  nature. 

While  thus  initiating  a high  executive  standard,  few  have  contributed 
more  toward  making  landscape  art  popular  than  Church.  He  has  inspired 
two  writers  to  elaborate  descriptive  essays  on  the  subjects  to  which  his 
pencil  has  been  devoted — one  a clerical  enthusiast  as  to  the  mission  of  art, 
and  the  other  one  of  the  earliest  and  noblest  martyrs  to  the  cause  of  Amer- 
ican nationality.  Dr.  Brown,  the  author  of  “Spare  Hours,”  is  one  of  his 
most  discriminating  eulogists  ; and  the  crowds  that  daily  thronged  his  ex- 
hibition-rooms at  home  and  abroad,  have  never  been  exceeded  where  the 
subject  represented  was  merely  a landscape.  His  success  therein  has 
given  rise  to  much  useful  and  eloquent  criticism,  and  his  example  has  stim- 
ulated to  adventurous  effort  and  renewed  patience  the  whole  fraternity 
of  landscape-painters.  Nor  is  this  all.  The  popularity  of  his  pictures  has 
given  birth  to  some  of  the  best  triumphs  of  the  burin,  and  yielded  the 
most  desirable  subjects  for  chromo-lithography.  In  illustration  whereof,  it 
is  only  requisite  to  mention  the  admirable  reproduction  of  “ Niagara,”  and 
the  “ Icebergs,”  by  the  latter  process,  and  the  peerless  engraving  of  the 
“ Heart  of  the  Andes,”  “ Cotopaxi,”  and  “ Chimborazo.” 

Frederic  Edwin  Church  was  born  in  Hartford,  Connecticut,  May,  1826. 
He  early  manifested  a talent  for  pictorial  art ; in  his  native  town,  he  used 
to  walk  and  talk  with  Bartholomew,  the  sculptor — both  isolated  aspirants  in 
art,  and  they  mutually  encouraged  each  other,  until,  after  some  initiatory 
studies,  Church  became  a pupil  of  Cole,  and  resided  with  him  at  Catskill, 
N.  Y.  Less  inspired  by  the  sentiment  than  apt  in  the  skill  required  for 
the  effeClive  representation  of  nature,  his  obligations  to  his  early  teacher 
seem  to  be  incidental  rather  than  absolute.  From  the  first  there  was  a 
marked  individuality  in  his  style,  and  a remarkable  independence  in  his 
method  ; yet,  however  little  affinity  existed  between  the  two,  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  an  artist  could  live  with  Cole  without  deriving  from  his  pure  and 
earnest  love  of  beauty,  and  reverent  observation,  invaluable  suggestions. 
Cole  was  one  of  the  first  landscape-painters  in  America  who  united  to  the 
right  feeling  for  nature  a patient  and  calm  devotion  to  the  practical  require- 
ments of  art.  There  was  a scope  and  a significance  in  his  mature  efforts 
previously  unattained,  at  least  in  the  same  degree,  among  us  ; and  his 
example  gave  a new  impulse  to  the  pursuit,  and  a higher  standard  to 
popular  taste.  A more  genial  and  instructive  home  than  that  his  society 
and  domestic  life  afforded,  can  scarcely  be  imagined  for  a young  artist ; and 
the  scenes  amid  which  they  dwelt,  the  conversation  of  so  noble  and  true 
a man,  and  the  mutual  study  of  nature,  must  have  auspiciously  promoted 
the  artistic  development  of  Church. 

Amid  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the  Catskills  were  Church’s  earliest  studies 
of  nature  pursued,  and  near  them  he  has  fixed  his  summer  home.  Here 
he  observed,  under  singularly  favorable  auspices,  the  permanent  tiaits  of 


374 


American  Artist  Life. 


indigenous  vegetation,  the  characteristic  phases  of  atmosphere,  and  the 
evanescent  phenomena  of  skies,  trees,  and  herbage,  the  forms  of  moun- 
tains, the  rising  and  setting  sun,  the  tints  and  tones  of  woodland  and 
water,  foliage  and  rocks  ; all  the  essential  features  of  Nature  in  her  wild 
and  primeval  haunts,  he  there  faithfully  studied,  and  thus  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  that  breadth  and  authenticity  of  executive  skill  whereby  he  subse- 
quently represented,  with  such  marvellous  truth,  her  less  familiar  traits 
from  the  exuberant  fertility  of  tropical  to  the  sublime  monotony  of  northern 
regions. 

In  full  view  of  these  scenes,  in  a pleasant  farm-house  four  miles  from 
Hudson,  is  Church’s  home. 

The  Catskill  mountains  have  been  a rare  nursery  of  American  landscape 
art ; to  the  summer  tourist  who  ascends  to  the  highest  elevation,  they  are 
chiefly  associated  with  a boundless  panorama  and  magnificent  chart,  a vast 
expanse  of  woods,  meadows,  and  farms,  interspersed  with  lakes,  encircled 
with  far-looming  ranges  of  mountain,  through  which  immediately  beneath 
the  eye,  like  a long,  sinuous  thread  of  silver,  winds  the  Hudson  ; but  to  the 
student  of  scenery  who  has  explored  the  Catskills,  they  are  remembered 
as  an  inexhaustible  series  of  wooded  gorges  and  glittering  cascades,  wild 
masses  of  rocks,  noble  groups  of  trees,  umbrageous  ledges  clad  in  brilliant 
autumnal,  emerald  spring,  or  ermine  winter  garniture ; and  affording 
every  facility  for  observing  the  grandest  effeCts  of  sky  and  atmosphere,  and 
the  most  beautiful  details  of  vegetation  and  forest  landscape.  Doubtless, 
the  accessible  position  of  the  Catskills  has  lured  many  thither  who  lack 
the  enterprise  to  visit  less  frequented  regions  ; and  they  were  among  the  ear- 
liest of  the  picturesque  haunts  of  nature  to  become  consecrated  to  the  pop- 
ular mind  by  native  literature  and  art.  There  one  of  the  most  memorable 
of  American  legendary  tales  found  its  scene  ; and  the  thunder-storms  and 
ravines  of  these  glorious  mountains  were  long  familiar  to  the  untravelled, 
through  Rip  Van  Winkle’s  encounter  with  the  old  Dutch  bowl-players, 
and  his  prodigious  nap  ; there  Cole  studied  the  woods  and  waterfalls  in 
every  season’s  and  hour’s  light,  and  found  the  materials  of  those  beautiful 
landscapes  which  first  won  for  our  scenery  artistic  appreciation  ; there 
Durand  sought  the  grand  and  graceful  arborescent  patriarchs  he  delineated 
with  so  much  truth  and  feeling  ; there  Kensett  transferred  to  canvas 
some  of  his  most  characteristic  rock-portraits,  and  Gifford  painted  the 
misty  and  wooded  gorge  ; while  every  succeeding  summer  won  to  these 
grand  and  lonely  hills  and  glens  new  hands  and  hearts  to  illustrate  their 
beauty  ; and  a better  school  for  the  lover  of  nature  and  the  votary  of 
landscape  art  cannot  be  imagined.  Here  we  look  down  a precipice,  along 
whose  sides  cling  majestic  trees,  and  at  whose  base  frets  a crystal  stream 
with  moss-grown  rocks  around  ; there  is  a solemn  pine  forest ; now  a 
sunny  glade  tapestried  with  wild-flowers  ; groups  of  elms,  oaks  with  white 
lichens,  the  dark  hemlock,  the  silvery  birch,  the  gleaming  beech,  the  gnarled 
chestnuts,  the  delicate  leaves  of  the  maple,  beds  of  laminated  gray  stone — 
the  towering  summit,  the  green  lapsing  “ Clove,”  the  glistening  cascade, 


Church. 


375 


sunsets  that  lighten  up  the  whole  with  mellow  radiance,  and  clouds  that 
throw  profound  shadows  ; exquisite  ferns,  the  sweep  of  the  gale  over 
leagues  of  forest,  or  the  play  of  zephyrs  upon  a grassy  knoll,  silence 
broken  only  by  the  chirp  of  the  squirrel  or  the  tap  of  the  woodpecker,  and 
the  roar  of  tempests,  whose  prolonged  echoes  shake  the  hills — combine  to 
yield  successive  pictures,  unsurpassed  in  freshness,  scope,  and  variety. 
Few  places  are  better  adapted  to  study  sunset  than  the  hills  behind 
Church’s  house  ; the  river  and  the  mountains  are  spread  before  his  gaze 
under  every  aspeCt  of  cloud,  sunshine,  and  starlight ; and  twilight  there 
weaves  her  most  pensive  hues,  while  the  most  glowing  tints  of  the 
western  sky  irradiate  the  far  horizon.  Church  is  deeply  sensible  of  the 
inadequacy  of  art  in  the  presence  of  nature.  “ I am  appalled,”  he  says, 
in  a recent  letter  now  before  me,  “ when  I look  at  the  magnificent  scenery 
which  encircles  my  clumsy  studio,  and  then  glance  at  the  painted  oil-cloth 
on  my  easel.” 

Church  chooses  his  subjects  wisely  ; he  works  them  out  scientifically, 
and  the  consequence  is,  that  there  is  a realisin  in  his  pictures  which  all 
with  good  eyes  and  the  least  observation  of  nature,  can  at  once  appreciate. 
If  we  carefully  inspeCt  the  “ Heart  of  the  Andes,”  we  find  this  faithful 
rendering  of  the  faCts  of  nature  in  every  part — in  the  distance  of  the  sky, 
in  the  form  and  color  of  the  mountains — in  the  clouds — the  middle  space 
with  its  arid  plain  and  red-tinted  church,  and  in  each  leaf,  bough,  bird, 
flower,  and  stone  of  the  foreground  : four  or  five  pictures  might  easily  be 
cut  out  of  this  one  ; it  is  full  of  the  most  photographic  imitation  of  natural 
objedts  and  effects.  The  faculty  of  the  artist  perpetually  astonishes  us. 
The  practical  intelligence,  perseverance,  aptitude,  and  cleverness  manifest 
throughout,  are  full  of  ability  ; he  has  studied  nature  to  some  purpose  ; he 
has  looked  on  the  mountains,  skies,  and  valleys  of  South  America  with 
his  firm,  clear  New  England  vision — has  seen  everything,  wisely  chosen, 
aptly  combined,  and  effectively  reproduced  his  materials. 

In  all  this  there  is  a great  lesson  for  our  artists.  They  here  see  for 
themselves  how  essential  to  success  it  is  that  they  should  know  how  to 
do  what  they  aim  at, — to  imitatemature  in  detail,  as  well  as  in  general  effeCts, 
to  obtain  a mastery  of  perspective, — to  elaborate  correCtly  the  flower  and 
leaf,  and,  at  the  same  time,  be  equally  expert  in  the  management  of  dis- 
tance and  light.  How  few  have  thus  studied,  thus  practised,  thus  obtained 
executive  ability  upon  which  they  can  rely  ! 

We  believe  that  painting,  like  writing,  like  manners,  like  character  itself, 
partakes  of  constitutional  idiosyncrasies — is  imbued  with  the  normal  traits 
of  the  man.  Church  exhibits  the  New  England  mind  piCtorially  developed. 
His  great  attribute  is  skill ; he  goes  to  nature,  not  so  much  with  the 
tenderness  of  a lover  or  the  awe  of  a worshipper,  as  with  the  determination, 
the  intelligence,  the  patient  intrepidity  of  a student  ; he  is  keenly  on  the 
watch  for  faCts,  and  resolute  in  their  transfer  to  art ; to  master  the  diffi- 
culties of  his  profession  is  more  of  an  inspiration  to  him  than  to  utter, 
through  it,  what  is  innate  and  overpowering  in  his  own  conceptions. 


3/6 


American  Artist  Life. 


As  Church  became  known  as  a landscape-painter,  the  critical  estimate 
of  his  merits  accorded  him  “ accuracy  of  drawing,  and  great  mechanical 
dexterity,  combined  with  a vivid  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  nature.” 
One  of  his  earliest  works  thus  characterized  was  a view  of  the  famous  blast 
Rock,  near  New  Haven  ; this  was  followed  by  a series  of  American  land- 
scapes, which  added  to  his  reputation  ; especially  those  which  were  re- 
markable for  impressive  skies — “ The  lifting  of  the  Storm  Cloud,”  “ Even- 
ing after  a Storm,”  and  several  sunset  scenes.  His  progress  in  color  was 
gradual,  but  sure,  and  with  each  new  experiment,  his  scope  enlarged,  and 
his  mastery  was  confirmed ; and  he  determined  to  seek  new  and  compara- 
tively unfamiliar  subjects,  and  extend  the  domain  of  his  observation.  In 
1853  he  embarked  for  South  America,  and  made  careful  studies  of  the  most 
picturesque  aspeCts  of  that  remarkable  country.  The  vivid  color  and  ela- 
borate execution  which  distinguished  his  picture  of  the  Great  Mountain 
Chains  of  New  Granada  excited  so  much  interest,  and  won  such  high 
encomiums,  that  he  was  induced  to  renew  his  sojourn  ; and  in  1857  made 
another  visit — bringing  home  a large  number  of  studies  and  sketches, 
which  afforded  him  the  materials  for  the  celebrated  landscapes  whereby  he 
became  so  widely  known  as  an  original  and  gifted  artist. 

On  his  return  from  his  second  expedition  to  South  America,  Church  paint- 
ed a large  view  of  Niagara  Falls  ; it  is  an  oblong,  seven  feet  by  three,  and  re- 
presents the  Horseshoe  Fall,  as  seen  from  the  Canadian  shore,  near  Table 
Rock.  This  was  immediately  recognized  as  the  first  satisfactory  delineation 
by  art  of  one  of  the  greatest  natural  wonders  of  the  western  world  ; and  this 
is  in  itself  extraordinary  praise,  for  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  such  a work 
are  obvious,  while  perhaps  no  subjeCt  could  be  found  more  promptly  to  chal- 
lenge public  estimation,  familiar  as  it  is  to  countless  observers.  The  suc- 
cess of  the  artist  in  representing  the  Rapids  is  marvellous  ; “ in  the  rush 
of  water  and  the  fine  atmospheric  effects,”  saida  foreign  critic,  “it  realized 
the  idea  of  sound,  as  well  as  of  motion.”  Indeed,  this  work  forms  an  era 
in  the  history  of  native  landscape  art,  from  the  revelation  it  proved  to  Euro- 
peans. The  great  cataraCt  has  been  profoundly  studied  by  Church  ; his 
first  sketches  evinced  the  closest  observatioh  and  the  happiest  reproduction 
of  evanescent  phases,  as  well  as  normal  traits  ; and  the  complete  posses- 
sion of  the  grand  theme  by  his  mind  was  memorably  evidenced  years  after 
the  execution  of  his  famous  picture,  by  a view  of  the  main  fall,  dashed  off 
in  seven  hours,  from  memory,  and  exhibited  with  the  title  of,  “ Under  Ni- 
agara ;”  sketched  originally  from  the  deck  of  the  little  steamer  Maid  of  the 
Mist, — it  seems  to  move,  a solid,  vast  mass  of  water,  in  altitude  sublime, 
rushing  with  luminous  vapor,  and  so  full  of  power  as  to  give  the  sensation 
of  a continuous  roar,  as  well  as  a sublime  rush.  The  curling  mist,  the  far- 
off  emerald  gleam,  the  softness  and  density  of  the  huge  column,  and  the 
quiet,  azure  skies  above,  unite  to  give  the  effeCt  of  profound  reality — an 
effedl  realized  by  the  artist  in  a few  hours,  but  the  produCt  of  a long  and 
vigilant  observation,  nurtured  by  the  distinct  image,  renewed  by  fancy,  and 
confirmed  artistic  data  gathered  on  the  spot  years  before. 


Church. 


377 


Church’s  travels  in  South  America  were  not  without  fatigues  and  hazards. 
On  one  of  these  occasions,  after  twenty  days  passed  on  board  a small  brig, 
and  suffering  much  from  heat  and  sea-sickness,  he  disembarked  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Magdalena  river,  which  he  tediously  ascended  in  a canoe. 
Traversing  the  woods  on  mules,  the  artist  and  his  companion  endured  all 
the  privations,  and  enjoyed  all  the  wonders  of  a tropical  journey.  They 
were  tormented  by  insedls,  and  passed  hours  in  making  their  way  through 
the  dense  undergrowth.  One  dark  night  an  accident  separated  them. 
The  bridle-paths  were  dangerous  without  a guide  ; not  a sign  of  human 
dwellings  was  visible  ; the  hootings  of  owls  and  the  howlings  of  beasts  in- 
creased the  horrors  of  darkness.  Wearied  with  penetrating  the  intermin- 
able brushwood,  now  up  to  his  knees  in  a morass,  and  now  entangled 
amid  the  vine-covered  trees,  the  intrepid  limner  climbed  a tree  and  long 
shouted  in  vain.  The  mules  had  slipped  away,  his  companion  was  ill,  and, 
worn  out  by  fatigue,  he  found  temporary  repose  on  an  ant-hill.  After  many 
disappointments,  he  succeeded  at  length  in  finding  the  track  of  his  guides, 
and  resuming  his  journey  under  more  favorable  auspices. 

These  and  other  trials  were  soon  forgotten,  when  the  splendors  of  an 
exuberant  and  radiant  vegetation  burst  upon  his  sight,  and  he  was  enabled 
at  leisure  to  explore  scenes  of  alternate  wildness  and  luxury,  full  of  novel 
effects  and  suggestive  traits  for  the  pencil.  As  he  became  accustomed  to 
the  country  and  familiar  with  its  resources,  they  opened  more  and  more 
vistas  of  promise  to  his  eye  and  mind.  Through  books  of  travel  we  know 
the  productions  of  this  teeming  region  ; its  fruit  so  abundant  and  deli- 
cious, the  gorgeous  plumage  of  its  birds,  and  the  brilliant  tints  of  its  inserts  ; 
and  the  late  researches  of  Agassiz,  under  the  liberal  facilities  given  by  the 
intelligent  Emperor  of  Brazil,  will  soon  make  its  scientific  phases  attrac- 
tively and  authentically  familiar  ; but  of  those  general  features  which  give 
it  picturesque  distinction,  few  have  derived  from  reading  other  than  a vague 
notion.  In  the  result  of  Church’s  studies  we  have,  as  it  were,  an  epitome 
and  typical  portrait  of  the  entire  country,  or,  rather,  each  landscape  repre- 
sents a region,  with  all  its  local  peculiarities.  In  the  “ Heart  of  the  Andes,” 
philosophically  as  well  as  poetically  so  called,  the  characteristics  of  their 
fertile  belt  are,  as  it  were,  condensed  ; it  is  at  once  descriptive  and  dramatic  ; 
the  deep  azure  of  the  sky,  the  far-away  and  soaring  snowy  peaks,  the  cen- 
tral plain  with  its  hamlet  and  watercourses,  the  lapsing  valley  full  of 
luxuriant  vegetation,  fern  palms,  mimosas  in  rich  festoons,  a scarlet  paro- 
quet, a gorgeous  inseCt,  a church  with  red-tiled  roof,  the  wayside  cross, 
flowers,  foliage,  a volcanic  range,  magnificent  trees,  exquisite  ferns,  pure 
light,  veritable  clouds,  all  the  tints  of  tropical  atmosphere,  and  all  the  traits 
of  tropical  vegetation,  combine,  in  harmonious  and  comprehensive,  as  well 
as  exquisitely  true  effeCt  and  detail,  to  “ conform  the  show  of  things  to  the 
desires  of  the  mind,”  and  to  place  before  it  the  speCtacle  of  a phase  of  na- 
ture which  to  northern  vision  is  full  of  enchantment. 

An  English  critic,  in  descanting  upon  the  interest  and  the  merits  of  this 
remarkable  work,  had  the  candor  to  acknowledge  that  as  a produdt  and  a 


American  Artist  Life. 


378 

process  of  art  it  transcends  the  formulas  of  academic  tuition,  and  vindi- 
cates allegiance  to  nature’s  teachings  as  the  legitimate  inspiration  of  land- 
scape art  : “ Marvellous  as  are  the  skilful  composition  and  comprehensive 
knowledge  displayed,  Mr.  Church  never  studied,  in  the  most  conventional 
sense  of  the  word  ; he  has  never  visited  the  great  galleries  of  art  out  of 
America,  but  he  has  done  better  : he  has  devoted  several  years  to  the  study 
at  first  hand  of  the  noble  coast  and  mountain  scenery  of  his  native  land.” 
An  elevated  valley  six  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  an  hour  or  two  before 
sunset,  is  portrayed  in  this  representative  scenic  view  of  South  America  : 
the  admirable  distances  are  a signal  triumph  of  aerial  perspective  ; from  the 
foreground  to  the  nearest  tree,  then  to  the  central  plain,  and  then  along  the 
green  declivities  to  the  hoary  summits  reared  in  the  far  sky-depths,  the 
eye  takes  in  the  prospeCt  as  in  nature.  Originally  a bird  lightly  defined 
was  poised  above  the  forest  glade,  which  will  account  for  the  allusion,  no 
longer  pertinent,  in  the  following  inadequate  attempt  to  describe  in  words 
“ The  Heart  of  the  Andes  : ” — 


The  tropic  life  of  Nature  here  o’erflows, 

And  fills  with  radiant  hues  the  earth  and  air  ; 
Above,  the  monsoon’s  breath  transformed  to  snows, 
Crowns  dizzy  peaks  ; volcanic  ridges  bare 
Impend  o’er  vales  exuberant  with  green, 

That  fringe  the  sultry  level ; far  below, 

The  vine-clasped  trees  with  billowy  sweep  are  seen, 
And  over  all  what  depths  of  azure  glow  ! 

Here  the  fern  palms  their  slender  arms  uplift ; 

There  crimson  wings  are  poised  and  blossoms  gay  ; 
Slow  through  the  ambient  realm  pale  vapors  drift, 
While  bright  cascades  o’er  grassy  ledges  play  : 
What  patient  magic  in  the  hand  of  Art, 

That  to  untravelled  eyes,  reveals  the  Andes’  heart ! 


We  contemplate  with  peculiar  interest  the  results  of  Church’s  visit  to 
South  America.  Although  his  stay  was  brief,  such  is  his  thorough  New 
England  industry  and  quickness,  that  he  seized  upon  more  hints  for  land- 
scapes, and  brought  away  a greater  number  of  traits  of  scenery  than  a less 
spirited  observer  would  acquire  in  a year.  Some  of  these  he  has  trans- 
ferred, and  others  is  now  transferring  to  canvas  ; one  especially  proved  a 
novelty,  it  is  the  view  of  an  extensive  waterfall  ; the  tropical  vegetation, 
the  long  distance  occupied  by  the  broken  cataradl,  and  the  singular  forma- 
tion and  quality  of  the  hills,  make  this  landscape,  in  the  literal  style  of 
Church,  a very  suggestive  and  remarkable  picture.  He  has  dealt  with 
South  American  cascades  as  faithfully  as  with  the  flushed  horizon  of  his 
native  country,  and  we  find  a new  mine  of  the  picturesque,  opened  by  his 
graphic  hand.  Seldom  has  a more  grand  effedt  of  light  been  depidted  than 
the  magnificent  sunshine  on  the  mountains  of  a tropical  clime,  from  his 
radiant  pencil.  It  literally  floods  the  canvas  with  celestial  fire,  and  beams 
with  glory  like  a sublime  psalm  of  light.  A butterfly  impaled  under  a 
glass  in  his  studio  actually  scintillates  azure  ; and  when  visitors  question 


Church . 


379 

the  authenticity  of  his  brilliant  tropical  hues,  he  points  them  to  this  insedl 
witness  of  nature’s  radiant  tones  in  those  latitudes. 

A subject  not  less  memorable  is  his  volcanic  landscape.  Cotopaxi,  the 
most  remarkable  of  South  American  volcanoes,  is  described  in  the  New 
American  Cyclopaedia,  as  rising  amid  “ the  eastern  chain  of  the  Andes, 
with  its  summit  18,858  feet  above  the  sea  ; but  the  valley  on  the  western 
side,  which  separates  this  from  the  next  chain,  is  itself  at  an  elevation  of 
about  9,000  feet,  so  that  the  great  altitude  of  the  mountain  is  lost  in  that 
of  the  group  to  which  it  belongs.  Out  of  its  summit  rises  a column  of 
smoke,  and  occasional  discharges,  like  those  of  bombs,  are  heard,  accom- 
panied with  emissions  of  fire,  visible  at  night.  The  flow  of  lava  is  of 
rare  occurrence,  as  in  all  South  American  volcanoes.  There  have  been 
five  memorable  eruptions  of  Cotopaxi;  that  of  April,  1768,  is  reputed  to 
have  been  the  most  terrible  of  all.  Showers  of  ashes  and  clouds  of  smoke, 
sent  forth  from  the  crater,  obscured  the  light  of  the  sun,  producing  such 
darkness  that  the  inhabitants  of  Tacunga  and  Ambato  were  obliged  to 
grope  their  way  with  lanterns  until  three  hours  after  noon.  A deluge  was 
produced  by  the  eruption  of  1803.  Humboldt,  who  was  then  at  Guayaquil, 
heard,  day  and  night,  the  explosions  of  the  volcano,  which  resembled 
heavy  discharges  of  artillery.” 

In  this  picture,  the  artist  represents  Cotopaxi  in  continuous  but  not 
violent  eruption  ; the  discharges  of  thick  smoke  occur  in  successive  but 
gradual  jets,  and,  seen  at  a distance,  the  column  rises  slow  and  majestic  ; 
the  wind  gives  an  oblique  direction  to  the  dense  vapor  after  it  has  ascended 
a few  thousand  feet  from  the  crater ; gradually  dispersed,  it  yet  hangs 
heavily  over  the  landscape  and  along  the  horizon,  so  that  the  newly-risen 
sun  flares  with  a lurid  fire  through  its  thick  volumes.  These  phenomena 
are  eminently  characteristic  of  Cotopaxi  ; nor  is  the  adjacent  scenery  less 
so.  This  embraces  a large  area  some  fifty  miles  distant  from  the  base  of 
the  cone  ; the  limestone  rocks,  porous  and  reddish,  are  granulated  and 
somewhat  columnar,  like  those  of  the  Upper  Mississippi,  but  far  less 
dense  and  more  friable,  owing  to  the  original  subterranean  heat  of  the 
soil ; their  irregular  surface  is  covered  with  a thin  vegetation,  chiefly  com- 
posed of  Paramo  grass,  which  although  in  times  of  drought  it  is  faded 
and  burnt,  during  the  rainy  season  often  boasts  the  vivid  emerald  of  the 
tropics.  The  lake  and  its  outlet  of  cascades  is  also  a peculiar  feature  of 
the  scenery  of  Ecuador— the  former  originating  in  an  eruption — a sudden 
chasm  becoming  filled  with  water,  which  pours  itself  over  the  natural 
rocky  bound,  and  streams  capriciously  along  the  declivity.  The  cliffs  and 
plateaus  which  diversify  the  surface  of  the  country,  the  foliage  in  the  fore- 
ground, and  the  aspect  of  the  horizon  and  vegetation,  are  all  minutely 
studied  from  nature,  and  are  typical  of  that  portion  of  the  Andes  which  is 
modified  in  appearance  and  character  by  volcanic  agencies. 

Having  given  us  so  memorable  and  vivid  a glimpse  into  the  fertile  Heart 
of  the  Andes,  where  transcendant  purity  of  air,  fertilizing  watercourses, 
and  the  most  exuberant  and  splendid  vegetation  realize  the  fondest  imag- 


380 


American  Artist  Life. 


ings  of  tropical  beauty,  Church  revealed  to  us  this  other  remarkable  and  pecu- 
liar phase  of  South  American  mountain  scenery — a limited  but  most  char- 
acteristic region  of  the  volcanic  chain  of  the  Andes — in  “ Cotopaxi,”  “the 
most  beautiful  and  the  most  terrible  of  the  American  volcanoes  ; ” it  rises 
from  the  plain  of  the  Quito,  very  near  the  equator.  “The  elevation  of  the 
table- lands  of  South  America,”  says  Humboldt,  “ from  which  rise  its  gigan- 
tic mountains,  is  already  so  great  that  the  effed  of  their  enormous  height 
is,  in  a measure,  lost.”  Accordingly,  it  is  the  fidelity  of  the  phenomena 
and  details,  rather  than  the  altitude  and  grand  proportions  of  the  scene, 
which  arrests  the  eye  and  fills  the  mind  in  contemplating  this  pidure.  We 
behold  the  peak  of  Cotopaxi,  associated  with  so  many  memories  of  terror 
and  destruction,  at  the  distance  of  about  seventeen  leagues  ; distinctly 
looms  its  gray  and  snow-flecked  cone  through  the  lucent  atmosphere  ; 
dense  and  dark  pours  the  smoke  from  its  crater,  growing  more  bistre  and 
saffron-like  in  tint  as  it  diffuses  itself  along  the  horizon  ; and  yet  so  thick 
are  its  volumes  that  the  sun,  newly  risen,  glows  through  rather  than  pierces 
them,  and  looks  as  when  seen  through  smoked  glass.  Never  has  the 
atmospheric  effed  of  smoke  been  depided  with  more  accuracy  ; — from  itfe 
first  black  emissions  to  the  bend  of  the  rising  column,  and  from  its  lateral 
spread  along  the  horizon  to  its  pale  and  far  diffusion  through  the  ambient 
air,  we  recognize  the  manner  and  method  of  Nature  in  her  volcanic  aspeds. 
Nor  is  the  illusion  diminished  when  we  gaze  upon  the  terrestrial  scene 
around,  the  reddish-brown  sandstone  of  the  low  cliffs,  the  ravine  through 
which  a volcanic  lake  finds  its  way  down  the  natural  terraces,  the  metallic- 
like  surface  of  the  lake  itself,  on  which  the  sunshine  is  opaquely  reflected 
through  the  dark  overhanging  vapor,  the  light  but  green  herbage  which 
has  crept  over  the  naturally  arid  soil,  fostered  into  temporary  verdure  by 
copious  annual  rains — the  gradually  increasing  vigor  and  freshness  of  the 
vegetation  as  it  recedes  and  descends,  until,  in  the  foreground,  a group  of 
fine  old  trees  refreshes  the  eye — all,  both  in  general  effeCt  and  in  authen- 
tic minutiae,  is  absolutely  and  scientifically  true  to  the  fads  of  nature  and 
the  requirements  of  art.  One  of  the  most  true  and  exquisite  effeds  of 
light  ever  exhibited  in  a landscape  is  the  pale  sunshine  on  the  ridges  in 
the  foreground  of  this  pidure. 

A more  absolute  contrast  in  subjed  and  experience  can  hardly  be  imag- 
ined than  that  between  “The  Heart  of  the  Andes”  and  “The  Icebergs.”  From 
the  mysterious  volcanic  heats  of  the  earth  we  are  transferred  at  a glance  to 
her  deadliest  cold — from  tropical  to  ardic  phenomena.  Popular  interest 
in  the  latter  had  become  wide  and  earnest  from  the  curiosity  awakened  by 
the  voyages  of  Parry  and  Belcher  ; the  deep  sympathy  excited  by  the  fate 
of  Sir  John  Franklin,  and  the  admiration  felt  for  the  intrepid  career  of  our 
own  Kane. 

When  the  idea  of  making  icebergs  the  subjed  of  a pidure  suggested  it- 
self to  Mr.  Church,  it  was  but  the  unconscious  response  to  the  curiosity 
and  wonder  which  ardic  discovery  had  excited  in  the  public  mind.  The 
pleasure  which  this  artist’s  delineation  of  tropical  scenery  had  given  his 


Church. 


3Sl 


friends  and  all  lovers  of  art  here  and  in  England,  must  have  convinced  him, 
if  he  was  unaware  of  the  faCt  before,  that  there  is  a latent  love  of  nature  in 
the  multitude,  and  that  her  faithful  and  feeling  representation  gratifies 
popular  instinCt  as  well  as  amateur  taste.  Accordingly  he  desired,  if  pos- 
sible, to  make  his  canvas  refleCt  the  glint  and  gloom,  the  grandeur  and 
beauty,  the  coldness  and  desolation  of  the  north,  as  he  had  already  caused 
it  to  glow  with  the  exuberant  loveliness  of  the  south. 

It  was  a hazardous  experiment.  Here  were  no  delicate  ferns  or  brightly 
tinted  leaves  to  decorate  the  foreground,  no  sparkling  cascades  or  pictu- 
resque crucifix  to  make  attractive  the  central  space,  and  no  variety  of  green 
and  blue,  of  mist  and  shadow,  of  herbage  and  bird,  inseCt  or  tree,  whereby 
the  eye  could  be  intoxicated  with  living  beauty.  Ice — water — sky — these 
elements  alone,  to  most  painters,  would  afford  little  scope  for  general  effeCt, 
however  much  they  may  be  rendered  of  special  significance. 

Church  looked  steadily  at  the  faCts  of  nature,  and  believed  that  form, 
color,  and  arrangement  could  be  made  to  give  to  these  objeCts,  in  combina- 
tion, somewhat  of  the  impressive  and  unique  charm  they  wear  in  reality  to 
the  keen  observer  and  the  imaginative  vision.  He  conversed  with  scores 
of  arClic  voyagers  ; he  read  the  adventurous  story  of  their  explorations.  He 
drew,  from  oral  description,  the  most  characteristic  forms,  and  acquired  a 
definite  notion  of  the  tints  which  belong  to  the  icebergs,  when  massed, 
isolated,  or  in  a transition  state.  Dr.  Kane’s  narrative — Dr.  Hayes’  talk — 
Lady  Franklin’s  visit — were  so  many  inspirations  ; and  finally,  he  deter- 
mined to  study  icebergs  where  they  may  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage, 
viz.,  off  the  coast  of  Labrador. 

Returning  with  a mass  of  sketches,  outlines,  studies  in  oil,  and  above 
all,  his  mind  clearly  and  fully  stored  with  picturesque  material,  Church 
went  to  work  with  that  intrepid  zeal  that  belongs  to  his  nature,  and  then 
produced  the  picture  which,  while  it  adds  a new  and  permanent  trophy  to 
his  fame,  conserves  and  diffuses  an  authentic  and  interesting  revelation  of 
a phenomenon  of  nature — comparatively  unfamiliar,  yet  infinitely  sugges- 
tive. Church’s  picture  typifies  the  north.  He  has  combined,  as  far  as 
possible  in  one  view,  the  most  characteristic  forms  and  colors.  The  centre 
berg — the  slope  of  the  melting  mass,  the  glint  of  the  upright  drift,  the 
transparent  blue,  the  opal  gleam,  the  sapphire  refraCtion,  the  cliff-like  shape, 
the  pearly  edge,  the  glittering  stalaClite,  the  opaque  alabaster  line,  the 
ice-paved  sea,  the  cold  atmosphere  and  pale  sky-flush, — all  we  have  read 
and  imagined  of  such  a scene,  is  here  brought  together  with  scientific  con- 
scientiousness and  artistic  skill  and  taste. 

The  result  is  novel.  As  we  gaze,  the  truth  and  meaning  of  the  picture 
grow  upon  eye  and  mind,  as  nature  does,  until  admiration  fairly  takes  us 
captive.  All  spectators  of  true  observation  will  appreciate  the  artistic 
power  and  the  truth  of  nature  ; but  few  will  rightly  estimate  the  difficulties 
overcome,  the  patient  study  involved  in  this  work. 

In  1863  “The  Icebergs”  was  exhibited  in  London;  and  the  leading 
journal  of  that  city  thus  describes  and  estimates  the  work  : — - 


382 


American  Artist  Life. 


li  The  season  is  summer,  the  time  of  day  close  on  sunset.  The  sunlight 
falls  from  low  down  on  the  spectator’s  left.  The  spectator  is  supposed  to 
look  from  a bay  in  the  berg,  where  the  water  shallows  over  the  ice,  to  the 
most  delicate  tones  of  light  emerald  green.  On  his  left  rise  the  jagged  ice- 
clififs,  with  their  faces  lit  here  and  there  by  reflected  light  from  the  main 
mass  of  the  berg  opposite.  The  water-worn  ice  of  the  bay  trends  round 
to  the  right  of  the  spectator,  where  a spur,  running  into  the  sea,  and  carry- 
ing a great  boulder  of  granite  or  iron-stone,  has  been  eaten  away  by  the 
waves  into  a cavern,  filled  with  the  fairy-like  green  light  refleCted  from  the 
emerald  water.  In  the  centre  of  the  picture,  in  middle  distance,  towers 
the  great  mass  of  the  berg,  its  face  toward  the  spectator,  divided  into  two 
levels  by  a great  step  in  the  ice  forming  a cliff  face.  The  surface  of  the 
shoulder  to  the  left  of  this  is  weather-worn  into  the  most  delicate  curves 
and  sinuosities,  forming  hollows,  in  which  sleep  an  infinite  variety  of  dove- 
colored,  violet,  and  faint  purple  shadows,  interpenetrated  with  a wonderful 
play  of  the  most  evanescent  prismatic  hues.  The  face  of  the  berg  to  the 
right  of  the  cleft  is  a great  triangular  field  of  pure  ice,  sweeping  with  a 
subtle  curve  upward  to  the  base  of  the  rounded  dome,  which  crowns  the 
berg,  half  hidden  in  the  mist-wreaths  from  the  huge  evaporating  mass.  This 
triangular  icefield  is  in  light,  and  over  it  plays  a faint  tremulous  veil  of  the 
tenderest  prismatic  hues.  At  its  base  are  two  water-lines  or  ice-beaches, 
showing  that  the  berg  has  weathered  two  summers,  and  indicating  by  their 
angle  with  the  horizon  the  shifting  of  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  enormous 
mass.  To  the  right  the  eye  follows  the  shadowed  side  of  the  berg,  far  up 
a ravine  of  ice,  running  up  into  a line  of  fantastic  peaks  and  spires  and 
pinnacles,  the  gray  shadows  kindled  within  by  that  same  play  of  prismatic 
tones  which  seems  to  invest  the  whole  berg  with  the  subtlest  and  sweetest 
harmonies  of  color.  The  sky  is  vaporous  in  the  zenith  ; warm  clouds  rest 
on  the  field  of  limpid  greenish  light  nearer  the  horizon. 

“ The  sea  is  calm,  but  long  measured  curves  of  quiet  swell  follow  each 
other  up  the  ice-bay.  The  color  of  the  sea  is  deep  violet  and  purple  on 
the  horizon,  passing  through  tender  gradations  of  gray  into  the  brilliant 
emerald  green  of  the  shallow  water  over  the  ice  round  the  base  of  the  berg, 
and  in  the  foreground.  Far  off  in  the  horizon  other  bergs  are  floating, 
their  peaks  and  ice-cliffs  rosy  in  the  evening  sun.  There  is  no  suggestion 
of  life,  except  a spar  with  the  grating  on  the  top,  and  a fragment  of  sail  still 
attached,  which  has  grounded  on  the  foreground  floe. 

“ The  picture  is  treated  with  the  utmost  subtlety  and  delicacy  both  of  form 
and  color,  and  brings  the  weird  and  wondrous  ice-world  most  vividly  and 
impressively  before  the  spectator.  Mr.  Church’s  power  of  painting  light 
and  water  is  peculiar  to  him.  No  better  example  can  be  desired  of  both 
combined  than  in  the  glimpse  of  green  water  seen  through  the  cleft  in  the 
ice  on  the  left,  just  at  the  base  of  the  ice-cliff. 

“ The  pidture  altogether  is  a noble  example  of  that  application  of  the  land- 
scape-painter’s art  to  the  rendering  of  grand,  beautiful,  and  unfamiliar  as- 
pects of  nature,  only  accessible  at  great  cost  of  fatigue  and  exposure,  and 


Church. 


383 


even  at  peril  of  life  and  limb,  which  seems  to  be  one  of  the  walks  in  which 
this  branch  of  the  art  is  destined  to  achieve  new  triumphs  in  our  time.” 

His  next  work  was  “ The  Rainy  Season  in  the  Tropics.”  Athwart  a moun- 
tain-bounded valley  and  gorge,  floats  one  of  those  frequent  showers  which  so 
often  drench  the  traveller  and  freshen  vegetation  in  those  regions,  while  a 
bit  of  clear,  deep  blue  sky  smiles  from  the  fleecy  clouds  that  overlay  the 
firmament,  and  the  sunshine,  beaming  across  the  vapory  vail,  forms  there- 
on  a rainbow,  which  seems  to  clasp  the  whole  with  a prismatic  bridge  ; a 
scene  more  characteristic  of  the  season  and  the  region  it  is  difficult  to  im- 
agine, and  one  more  difficult  to  represent  on  canvas  could  not  be  selected. 
To  combine  the  right  perspective  with  the  aqueous  effeCts  is  a problem 
hard  to  solve  ; but  Mr.  Church  has  succeeded  ; the  aerial  perspective  is 
exquisitely  true — the  floating  vapor,  the  blue  sky,  the  radiant  iris — the 
brooding  mists  on  the  distant  mountains,  the  rich  vegetation  of  the  fore- 
ground, and  green,  rugged  declivity  and  mule-path — water,  air,  cloud,  hill, 
and  vale — all  wear  the  tearful  glory  of  “ The  Rainy  Season  in  the  Tropics,” 
whereby  the  assiduous  and  accomplished  artist  has  added  another  phase  of 
nature  to  his  grand  and  gracious  expositions  of  her  picturesque  enchantments. 

Those  glittering  monsters  of  the  deep,  swept  from  northern  seas  into 
the  western  Atlantic,  had  ever  been  the  terror  of  summer  voyagers  amid 
the  fogs  off  Newfoundland ; but  the  heroism  and  the  martyrdom,  the 
scientific  knowledge,  and  the  wonderful  adventure  associated  herewith  by 
the  record  of  arCtic  expeditions,  had  created  a new  and  romantic  interest, 
and  made  the  Iceberg  a sublime  symbol  of  daring  achievement,  and  a 
solemn  memorial  of  human  sorrow  and  faith.  But,  wonderful  as  these 
vast  crystal  masses  are  in  themselves,  and  attractive  as  they  have  become 
through  the  most  wonderful  chapter  in  the  history  of  modern  enterprise, 
few  are  the  artists  who  would  venture  to  make  one  the  exclusive  sub- 
ject of  a picture  ; in  nature  it  requires  all  the  accessories  of  space  ; all 
the  effeCt  of  light,  with  sea,  snow,  and  the  firmament  around  and  above, 
to  relieve  the  blankness  and  isolation  of  icebergs,  by  picturesque  agencies  ; 
but  transferred  in  solitary  abstraction  to  the  canvas,  only  a masterly  execu- 
tion could  redeem  a subjeCt  like  this  from  monotonous  singularity.  Con- 
vinced that  color  and  form  in  this,  as  in  every  other  natural  objeCt,  made 
it  a fit,  however  difficult,  theme  for  delineation,  Church  determined  to 
study  its  phases,  note  its  traits,  and  represent  it  with  careful  and  elabo- 
rate art.  Of  that  mysterious,  solitary,  blank  life  in  the  polar  seas,  with  all 
its  marvellous  details  of  silence  and  whiteness,  bears,  walruses,  eider- 
ducks,  Esquimaux  dogs,  fleas,  and  foxes,  bivouacs  in  snow-fields,  and  jour- 
neys over  frozen  plains,  and  interminable  night,  wherein  and  whereby 
human  courage  and  patience  attained  an  almost  spiritual  energy,  and 
human  resources  are  tested  to  the  utmost — of  this  extraordinary  and 
exceptional  life  the  iceberg  seems  the  monument  ; its  speCtral  pinnacles 
glittering  in  the  moonlight,  its  vast  proportions  frowning  in  the  darkness, 
its  capricious  architecture  mocking  the  fancy  of  the  exile  with  shapes  of 
familiar  glory  and  endeared  habitations. 


3 §4 


American  Artist  Life. 


Church  and  his  friend,  equipped  for  an  exploration  along  the  shore  of 
Labrador,  started  early  in  the  summer  to  seek  and  study  this  “ architecture 
of  the  sea.”  They  found  hospitality  among  the  fishermen  and  missionaries, 
and  having  chartered  a small  vessel,  went  forth  in  pursuit  of  icebergs  — of 
all  objects  in  nature  the  most  difficult  to  study  ; but,  by  dint  of  patience, 
the  assiduous  artist  observed  a great  variety  of  them,  noted  their  shapes 
and  colors,  watched  them  at  dawn  and  sunset,  and,  beating  about  the 
rough  sea,  caught  with  ready  pencil  and  retained  in  his  memory  the  most 
piCluresque  attributes  of  these  evanescent  wonders  of  the  deep.  The 
curious  details  of  this  exploration,  full  of  amusing  incident  on  the  one 
hand,  and  of  trials  to  patience  and  comfort  on  the  other,  and  at  the  same 
time  fruitful  of  sublime  and  novel  impressions  of  beauty,  have  been  “ set 
in  a note-book,”  and  elaborately  described  by  the  artist’s  companion,  who 
seems  to  have  carried  to  the  scene  all  a poet’s  enthusiasm  and  an  art- 
lover’s  sympathy.  Whoever  would  know  the  perils  and  the  pleasures  of  a 
“ chase  after  icebergs  ” for  artistic  purposes,  should  read  this  chronicle  of 
a summer  voyage  ; it  is  a unique  illustration  of  the  dauntless  and  genial 
enterprise  of  American  artist-life. 

The  book*  and  the  picture,  which  were  the  fruit  of  the  expedition,  reveal 
to  us  a marvellous  idea  of  the  various  significance  and  interest  belonging 
to  icebergs.  In  substance,  resembling  alabaster,  rock-crystal,  emerald, 
topaz,  amethyst,  and  every  gem  of  earth  ; in  form,  including  every  shape 
hallowed  by  art  or  dear  to  fancy, — cathedral,  obelisk,  shrine,  domes,  pilas- 
ters, arches,  crags,  and  cliffs  ; here  like  a Mississippi  bluff,  there  like  a frag- 
ment of  the  Colosseum  ; now  Windsor  Castle,  and  again  a Titanic  vase  ; 
their  peaks,  battlements  of  porcelain  or  pearl  ; their  transitions  as  rapid 
as  wind  and  light.  What  a series  of  pictures  is  afforded  by  the  mere 
recital  of  daily  experience,  when  a vigilant  eye  followed  and  explored  the 
frozen  and  floating  Alps,  caverns,  pyramids,  or  mosques  of  ice  ! An 
average  form,  and  a combination  of  tints  were  chosen  by  the  artist  in 
executing  a portrait  of  the  icebergs  ; and  its  authenticity  in  detail  has  been 
attested  by  several  experienced  observers. 

“ The  Andes  of  Ecuador,”  by  this  artist,  belongs  to  W.  H.  Osborne,  Esq., 
of  New  York  ; two  of  his  earliest  tropical  pictures  are  in  possession  of  Jona- 
than Sturgis,  Escp,  and  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; a fine  and 
highly-finished  illustration  of  South  American  scenery  is  in  the  collection 
of  R.  S.  Stuart,  Escp,  of  New  York  ; “ Cotopaxi  ” belongs  to  James  Lenox, 
Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “ The  Icebergs,”  to  Mr.  Watson,  M.P.,  of  London  ; 
“ Chimborazo,”  to  W.  H.  Osborne,  Esq. ; “ Niagara”  and  “ Twilight  in  the 
Wilderness”  to  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “ Morning  on  the 
Cordilleras,”  to  Jonathan  Sturgis,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  “ Journey  of  the 
Pilgrim  through  the  Wilderness,”  and  “View  of  Quebec,”  are  in  the  Wads- 
worth Gallery,  Hartford,  Ct.  ; “ The  Rainy  Season  in  the  Tropics,”  “ Under 
Niagara,”  “ Mount  Katahdin,”  and  “ Sunrise  on  Mount  Desert  Island,” 


* “ After  Icebergs,  with  a Painter,”  by  Rev.  Louis  L.  Noble. 


Church. 


335 


are  in  the  cohesion  of  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “The 
Heart  of  the  Andes  ” and  44  Aurora”  belong  to  William  T.  Blodgett,  Esq., 
of  New  York  ; “Jamaica,”  to  Mrs.  Colt,  of  Hartford,  Ct.  ; “ Twilight”  and 
“A  River  in  South  America,”  to  W.  T.  Walters,  of  Baltimore,  Md. 

The  foreign  critical  estimates  of  Church’s  pictures,  as  we  have  seen, 
confirm  his  claim  to  original  and  scientific  excellence  ; and  this  testimony 
is  the  more  authentic  from  the  fadt  that  it  is  by  no  means  wholly  eulogistic. 
A careful  writer  in  the  London  Art  Journal  considers  the  subject  minutely, 
and  bases  his  conclusions  on  the  best  artistic  reasoning ; thus  while  he 
finds  an  “ over-minuteness  and  stiffness  lingering  in  certain  parts  of 
the  foreground  of  4 The  Heart  of  the  Andes,’  ” he  recognizes  a picture  in 
which  “ definite  truth  is  harmonized  and  unified  by  a sense  of  beauty.” 
He  observes  of  44  The  Icebergs  ” that  the  upper  sky  is  “dim  and  shadowy 
from  the  cold  effusions  of  the  icebergs  ” — of  an  olive  hue  44  from  a vapor  tinged 
with  yellow  by  the  descending  sun  intervening  before  the  azure,  while  the 
sea  is  ink-black  out  in  the  open  horizon.”  44  All  along  its  base,”  he  re- 
marks of  the  iceberg,  44  you  may  discern  two  terrace-like  lines  perfedtly 
straight,  but  sloping  together  down  to  the  water ; there  were  formerly  the 
successive  water-lines  of  the  berg,  and  their  inclining  marks  how  the  whole 
has  been  upheaved  and  thrust  back  by  those  shocks  through  which  it  may 
tottei,  fall,  and  disperse  to  ruin  ; they  tell  us  that  it  has  already  borne 
the  wasting  of  two  summers.”  The  same  critic,  speaking  of  the  brilliant 
tints  of  the  berg,  remarks  : 44  This  iridescence  may  be  one  of  the  stumbling- 
blocks  to  those  matter-of-fact  persons  whose  imaginations  are  so  utterly 
homely  that  they  are  apt  to  turn  away  from  any  beautiful  truth  not  substan- 
tiated by  their  every-day  experience  ; but  we,  who  have  seen  sunset  come 
with  fairy  presence  to  the  depths  of  a Swiss  glacier,  readily  accept  all  this 
as  a fa 61.  Some  of  our  arctic  men  were  highly  gratified  with  the  constituent 
parts  of  the  work,  praising  their  truthfulness  heartily.”  Church’s  aim  and 
method  find  the  most  intelligent  and  cordial  recognition  from  this  art- 
student.  Of  his  compositions  he  says  : 44  In  his  greater  love  of  nature,  he  de- 
sires to  give  a more  worthy  impression  thereof ; and  in  his  greater  love  of 
truth,  to  combine  a greater  number  of  beautiful  and  significant  truths, 
where  the  mere  local  copyists  could  present  but  few.”  He  hails  Church 
as  giving  promise  of  a better  day — a perfect  style,  viz.  : 44  The  best  Tur- 
nerian,  carried  forward  with  preciseness  of  detail  and  temperance  of  color.”* 

It  is  Church’s  habit  to  devote  the  summer  to  observation  and  refledtion  ; 
then  he  gathers  the  materials,  and  thinks  over  the  plan  and  scope  of  his 
pictures,  seeking,  at  the  same  time,  by  life  in  the  open  air,  and  wholesome 
physical  exercise  and  recreation,  to  invigorate  his  health,  which  is  not 
robust,  and  lay  up  a stock  of  strength  as  well  as  ideas  for  work  during  the 
winter.  That  season  he  passes  in  the  city,  resolutely  shut  up  several 
hours  daily  in  his  studio,  concentrating  his  mind  upon  some  long-contem- 
plated task,  to  which  his  time  and  thoughts  are  given  with  a rare  and 


* W.  P.  B.,  in  the  London  Art  Journal,  Sept.,  1863. 

25 


American  Artist  Life. 


336 

exclusive  devotion,  which,  in  a few  months,  makes  the  sunburnt  and  adtive 
sojourner  in  the  country  resemble  a pale  student,  so  exhaustive  and  absorb- 
ing are  his  labors  when  once  fairly  engaged  upon  a mature  conception.  Al- 
though rapid  in  execution,  he  is  slow  in  working  out  the  artistic  problem  to 
be  solved,  in  his  own  mind  ; cannot  brook  interruption  for  any  trivial  objebt, 
and  eschews  all  dalliance  with  pastime  until  his  pencil  is  laid  aside  for  the  day. 

A domestic  affliction  rendering  a change  of  scene  desirable,  Church, 
in  1866,  embarked  for  Jamaica,  and  passed  many  weeks  of  the  summer 
among  the  mountains  of  that  picturesque  island.  The  studies  which 
he  brought  home  indicate  his  usual  skill,  industry,  and  tael  in  selection  ; 
there  are  admirable  effeCts  of  sunset,  storm,  and  mist,  caught  in  all  their 
evanescent  but  characteristic  phases  ; the  mountain  shapes,  gorges, 
plateaus,  lines  of  coast,  and  outlines  of  hills  : beside  these  general  fea- 
tures, there  are  minute  and  ‘elaborate  studies  of  vegetation — the  palms, 
ferns,  canebrakes,  flowers,  grasses,  and  lizards  ; in  a word,  all  the  materials 
of  a tropical  insular  landscape,  with  every  local  trait  carefully  noted.  No 
one  can  examine  such  studies  without  recognizing  the  scientific  method 
of  the  artist — the  authenticity  of  his  transcripts  from  nature;  and  it  is  when 
comparing  these  materials  with  their  combined  result  in  a grand  scenic  com- 
position, that  we  realize  that  the  fame  and  the  faculty  of  Church  are  the  legit- 
imate fruits  of  rare  and  individual  endowments  conscientiously  exercised. 

He  has  already  elaborated  one  landscape  from  his  Jamaica  studies — 
highly  finished  in  details  of  vegetation,  and  full  of  character.  “ A View 
of  Niagara,”  including  a greater  range  of  the  rapids  and  catarabt  than 
has  ever  before  been  delineated,  was  purchased  by  Goupil  & Co.,  of 
Paris,  and  gained  a prize  at  the  Exposition  of  1867.  The  truth,  unity, 
and  effect  of  this  work  are  wonderful ; examined  through  a tube,  on  a level 
with  the  eye,  the  illusion  is  complete  to  one  familiar  with  the  Falls.  Church 
climbed  a tree  at  the  end  of  the  arc  of  a circle,  and  found  the  view  thence 
embraced  the  whole  of  the  catarabt  ; he  cut  away  foliage  to  secure  a free 
sight,  clung  to  the  top  of  the  tree,  and  made  his  sketch.  The  glint  of  the 
water,  the  mist,  the  sweep,  curve,  dash,  spray,  foam,  rocks,  and  iris,  all 
are  reproduced  in  faithful  and  vivid  tints.  An  intelligent  critic  remarks 
of  this  work:  “As  a faithful  view  of  one  of  the  grandest  scenes  in 
nature,  the  picture  is  almost  faultless  ; it  is  photographic  in  its  truth, 
while  it  is  in  the  highest  sense  artistic.  The  painter  has  taken  no  liberties 
with  his  mighty  theme  ; but  has  suited  his  canvas  to  the  subject,  instead 
of  making  the  subject  fit  the  canvas,  as  many  do.  The  picture  is  marvel- 
lous for  its  unity  and  harmony  of  relation  between  the  several  parts, 
and,  like  the  scene  itself,  does  not  at  first  strike  you  with  irresistible 
force.  But  after  a time  it  does,  making  an  impression  on  the  mind  that 
can  never  be  effaced.” 


BIERSTADT. 


MONG  the  German  emigrants  who  have  settled  in  New  Eng- 
land, within  the  last  fifty  years,  is  a family,  the  head  of  which 
was  by  profession  a soldier,  who  had  seen  hard  service  dur- 
ing the  Peninsular  War.  Two  years  before  he  arrived  in  the 
United  States,  his  son  Albert  was  born  at  Dusseldorf.  This 
family,  whose  name  is  Bierstadt,  have  resided  for  many  years 
at  New  Bedford,  in  Massachusetts.  There  this  son,  now  so  well-known  as  a 
landscape  painter,  received  his  school  education,  and  subsequently  engaged 
in  various  employments,  always  with  a predileCtion  for  art,  however,  which 
he  casually  indulged  from  his  earliest  years.  The  usual  objections  long 
prevented  him  from  concentrating  upon  art  the  attention  which  circum- 
stances obliged  him  to  diffuse  among  practical  and  practicable  occupations. 
The  taste,  however,  was  too  instinCtive  and  the  latent  ability  too  genuine 
to  permit  any  other  result  than  a final  determination  to  risk  the  chance  of 
disappointment.  Those  interested  in  his  welfare  discouraged  his  ambition, 
or  rather  his  love  of  art  as  a profession,  because  they  knew  how  precarious 
it  often  proves  as  an  exclusive  resource,  and  because  the  youth  had  not 
given  evidence  of  any  remarkable  talent ; while  his  probity,  application,  and 
mastery  of  practical  affairs  gave  them  reason  to  believe  in  his  future  suc- 
cess in  more  remunerative  and  less  ideal  occupations.  The  future  artist 
had  frequently  executed  clever  sketches  in  crayon  ; but  it  was  not  until 
t 85 1 , when  he  was  in  his  twenty-third  year,  that  he  began  to  paint  in  oils, 
and  determined  to  earn  the  means  of  visiting  his  native  city,  Dusseldorf, 
and  his  eminent  cousin,  Hasenclever,  whose  unique  genre  pictures  have 
been  so  popular  in  this  country.  Accordingly  in  1853  he  embarked  ; and 
soon  after  his  arrival  in  Europe,  took  up  his  abode  at  Dusseldorf,  devoting 
the  winter  to  study  at  the  famous  Academy  of  that  city,  and  the  summer  to 
sketching  tours  through  Germany  and  Switzerland.  His  kinship  with,  the 
former  country  would  seem  to  have  been  a favorable  circumstance,  and  to 
have  rendered  him  more  at  home  there  as  an  art-student  than  is  the  case 
with  most  young  Americans  ; but  Bierstadt  experienced  a severe  disap- 
pointment on  his  arrival,  in  finding  that  Hasenclever  had  recently  died  ; he, 
however,  soon  enjoyed  either  the  direCt  instruction  or  the  personal  sym- 
pathy of  Lessing,  Achenbach,  Leutze,  and  Whittredge.  As  an  academic 


388  American  Artist  Life. 

disciple,  however,  Bierstadt  gave  no  striking  proof  of  individual  merit  ; 
though  doubtless  he  acquired  much  technical  aptitude  by  his  drawing  and 
color  practice,  and  from  the  criticisms  of  his  more  experienced  companions. 
In  this,  as  in  so  many  other  instances,  a true  direction  and  development 
in  landscape  art  was  gained  away  from  the  studio,  by  the  personal  and  in- 
dependent study  of  Nature  herself.  The  work  which  gives  the  highest  prom- 
ise of  those  which  Bierstadt  executed  at  this  period,  is  one  called  “ The 
Old  Mill” — which  he  painted  during  his  first  summer,  while  on  a pedestrian 
tour  in  Westphalia.  It  is  full  of  homely  truth  and  rural  beauty,  and  has  a 
rare  local  fidelity  and  freshness,  and  a genial  simplicity  which  remind  one 
of  the  most  naive  and  candid  aspects  of  life  and  nature  in  the  Old  World. 
His  next  tour,  the  following  year,  was  through  Hesse-Cassel ; and,  while 
there,  he  was  much  struck,  one  afternoon,  with  a beautiful  efifeCt  of  light 
and  shade,  on  the  mossy,  massive  front  and  low  arched  door  of  a quaint 
mediaeval  church,  with  a wide-spreading  venerable  tree  beside  the  wall,  and 
an  old  woman  seated  under  the  gateway.  The  whole  scene  was  full  of 
mellow,  time-hallowed,  and  consecrated  repose.  Bierstadt  caught,  with 
singular  vividness  and  truth,  the  details  and  expression  of  the  scene,  so 
familiar  in  its  materials,  yet  so  eloquent  in  its  “ Sunshine  and  Shadow” — 
and  by  this  appropriate  name  he  called  the  picture  which  he  subsequently 
elaborated  from  it,  and  which  first  made  him  generally  and  favorably  known 
in  art.  It  was  so  suggestive  of  the  peaceful  and  picturesque  old  towns  of 
Europe,  that  scores  of  travellers  desired  to  possess  it  ; while  the  agreeable 
surprise  at  so  effective  and  real  a picture,  whose  subjeCt  was  so  unpretend- 
ing, added  to  his  popularity,  and  to  the  merit  of  the  artist  as  a fond  and 
faithful  student  of  nature. 

A winter  in  Rome  with  Whittredge,  a pedestrian  tour  through  the  Ap- 
ennines with  Gifford,  and  a sojourn  in  Switzerland  and  on  the  Rhine  with 
the  former  artist  friend  and  Haseltine,  enlarged  the  observation  and  en- 
riched the  portfolio  of  Bierstadt,  and  in  the  autumn  of  1857  he  returned 
to  his  New  Bedford  home,  accomplished  in  his  art,  with  many  trophies  of 
his  industry  and  skill,  and  with  a new  relish  for,  and  understanding  of, 
landscape  painting.  These  attainments  he  now  aspired  to  make  illustra- 
tive of  the  least  known  scenery  of  the  New  World.  Among  the  works 
which  our  artist  elaborated  from  his  careful  European  studies  are,  a most 
effective  picture  of  the  “ Bay  of  Sorrento,”  one  of  “ The  Arch  of  OCtavian,” 
a “Street  Scene  in  Rome,”  and  “Lake  Lucerne;”  each  of  which,  for 
accuracy  of  the  local  details,  still-life,  and  atmospheric  efifeCts,  tints  of  earth 
and  water,  and  character  of  accessories,  and  in  every  essential  feature,  is 
an  eloquent  epitome  of  its  subjeCt,  and  transports  the  spectator  to  the 
fairest  environs  of  Naples,  to  the  heart  of  Switzerland,  or  to  the  centre  of 
the  Eternal  City.  These  and  other  pictures  were  disposed  of,  and  have 
been  more  or  less  lost  to  public  view  in  private  collections  ; whereas  the 
“Sunshine  and  Shadow”  has  been  exhibited  repeatedly,  and  before  his 
Rocky  Mountain  landscape  appeared,  was  the  best  known  of  Bierstadt’s 
pictures. 


Bierstadt. 


389 


The  same  careful  finish  of  details,  skilful  management  of  light,  and  eye 
for  picturesque  possibilities,  which  make  Bierstadt’s  Old  World  subjects 
so  impressive  and  suggestive,  have  rendered  many  of  his  studies  of  Ameri- 
can scenery  full  of  bold  and  true  significance.  He  passed  part  of  a summer, 
after  his  return  from  Europe,  among  the  White  Mountains,  and  besides 
the  materials  for  a typical  landscape  of  that  romantic  region,  he  gained 
some  special  studies  full  of  character  and  masterly  effedts. 

Adventure  is  an  element  in  American  artist-life  which  gives  it  singular 
zest  and  interest.  From  Audubon’s  lonely  forest  wanderings  and  vigils, 
to  Church’s  pilgrimage  among  the  Andes,  or  Bradford’s  chase  after  ice- 
bergs off  the  coast  of  Labrador,  its  record  abounds  with  pioneer  enterprise 
and  hardy  exploration.  A few  years  ago  the  idea  of  a carefully  studied,  faith- 
fully composed,  and  admirably  executed  landscape  of  Rocky  Mountain 
scenery,  would  have  been  deemed  chimerical,  involving,  as  it  must,  long 
and  isolated  journeys,  and  no  ordinary  risk  and  privation.  And  yet  the 
American  work  of  art  which  attracted  most  attention,  and  afforded  the 
greatest  promise  and  pleasure  in  the  spring  of  1863,  was  such  a picture. 
The  accuracy  of  its  details  is  certified  by  all  who  have  visited  the  region  ; 
while  the  novelty  and  grandeur  of  the  scene,  and  the  fidelity  and  power 
with  which  the  pibture  renders  the  magnificence  of  the  mountains,  their 
forms  and  structure,  the  character  of  the  trees,  and  the  sublime  aerial 
perspective,  have  made  this  first  elaborate  representation  of  a vast  and 
distant  range — so  long  the  traditional  boundary  of  exploration  and  the 
haunt  of  savage  tribes — one  of  the  most  essentially  representative  and 
noble  illustrations  of  American  landscape  art.  We  look  at  the  result, 
but  scarcely  realize  the  process.  To  accomplish  his  task,  the  artist  passed 
months  away  from  the  haunts  of  civilization.  To  accompany  the  late 
General  Lander’s  exploring  expedition,  he  left  New  Bedford  for  St.  Louis, 
in  April,  1858,  and  three  months  after,  thus  wrote  : 

“Rocky  Mountains,  July  10. 

“ The  mountains  are  very  fine  ; as  seen  from  the  plains,  they  resemble 
very  much  the  Bernese  Alps  ; they  are  of  granite  formation,  the  same  as 
the  Swiss  mountains,  their  jagged  summits  covered  with  snow  and  min- 
gling with  the  clouds  ; cottonwood  trees  and  several  species  of  the  fir  and 
pine  line  the  river  banks  ; the  grouping  of  the  rocks  is  charming  ; the  In- 
dians are  as  they  were  hundreds  of  years  ago,  and  now  is  the  time  to  paint 
them  ; the  color  of  the  mountains  is  like  those  of  Italy  ; the  rolling  prairies 
are  covered  with  wild  sage  and  different  shrubs,  and  the  streams  are  lined 
with  willows.” 

In  the  midst  of  these  scenes  of  exuberant  and  solitary  Nature,  what  a 
school  for  the  artist  alive  to  her  glories,  and  patiently  receptive  of  her  teach- 
ings ! After  a day’s  travel  in  a spring-wagon,  Bierstadt,  his  companion, 
and  their  servant  would  start  on  Indian  ponies  and  ramble  for  miles,  to  ex- 
plore, to  kill  game  for  their  supper,  and  to  sketch.  Grouse,  antelope,  rab- 
bits, wild  ducks  and  sage  hens,  with  coffee  and  corn-bread,  furnished  their 


390  American  Artist  Life. 

repast ; they  slept  in  blankets  under  the  open  sky,  and  woke  up  with  dew 
on  their  faces.  This  life  invigorated  body  and  mind,  exhilarated  the  spirits, 
and  freshened  that  love  of  and  intimacy  with  nature,  whence  the  true  artist 
draws  his  best  inspiration.  It  was  thus  that  the  landscape  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  was  studied  : the  trees,  peaks,  fertile  levels,  barren  ridges, 
atmospheric  effects,  Indian  costumes,  accoutrements,  physiognomies — each 
element  and  aspect  of  the  country  was  delineated  with  conscientious  skill, 
and  from  these  was  executed  a grand  historical  and  geographical  picture 
of  the  Wind  River  range  in  Nebraska  Territory.  To  one  who  has  never 
visited  the  scene,  perhaps  the  best  proof  of  the  authentic  merits  of  the  land- 
scape may  be  derived  from  the  vivid  description  of  an  enthusiastic  lover  of 
nature,  who,  long  before  this  picture  was  achieved,  attempted  to  convey  his 
impressions  of  this  scenery  in  words  which  partook  equally  of  artistic  and 
poetical  enthusiasm.  “ We  grouped  to  depart,”  wrote  the  lamented  Win- 
throp,  in  his  spirited  and  graphic  romance  of  “John  Brent.”  “ ‘ I shall  re- 
member all  this  for  scores  of  sketches,’  said  Miss  Clitheroe.  And,  indeed, 
there  was  material.  The  rocks  behind  threading  away  and  narrowing  into 
the  dim  gorge  of  the  valley  ; the  rushing  fountains,  one  with  its  cloud  of 
steam  ; the  two  great  spruces  ; the  thickets  ; and  above  them,  a far-away 
glimpse  of  a world  all  run  to  top  and  flinging  itself  up  to  heaven,  a tumult 
of  crag  and  pinnacle.  All  the  ground  was  verdure — green,  tender,  and 
brilliant— *a  feast  to  the  eyes  after  long  staring  over  sere  deserts.  Two 
great  spruce  trees,  each  with  one  foot  under  the  rocks  and  one  edging 
fountain  ward,  stood  pillar  under  pyramid  ; some  wreaths  of  drooping 
creepers  floating  from  the  crags  had  caught  and  clung  : except  for  the 
spruces  posted  against  the  cliffs,  the  grassy  area  for  an  acre  about  the 
springs  was  clean  of  other  growth  than  grass.  Below,  the  rivulet  disap- 
peared in  a green  thicket,  and  further  down  were  large  cottonwoods,  and 
one  tall,  stranger  tree,  the  feminine  presence  of  a drooping  elm.”  How 
perfectly  the  sensation  and  sentiment  of  this  scenery  is  reflected  from  the 
landscape  of  Bierstadt,  every  feature  of  which  we  have  heard  an  eminent 
American  officer  identify  with  enthusiasm.  The  foreground  of  the  picture 
is  a vast  plain,  over  which  groups  of  Indians,  several  wigwams,  and  the  prod- 
ucts of  the  chase,  are  scattered  ; a grove  of  cottonwood  trees  occupies  the 
left  foreground,  and  a river  runs  through  the  mid  background,  on  the  oppo- 
site shore  of  which  is  a line  of  beetling  cliffs,  and  lofty,  snow-crowned 
mountains,  broken  by  gullies,  through  which  numerous  waterfalls  make 
their  way.  The  part  of  the  mountains  depicted  is  the  western  slope,  and 
the  particular  locality  is  about  750  miles  north-east  of  San  Francisco.  The 
stream  introduced  is  the  head-water  of  the  Rio  Colorado,  which  empties 
into  the  Gulf  of  California.  The  highest  peak  is  Mount  Lander,  its  sum- 
mit crowned  with  snow,  and  its  sides  bordered  with  glaciers.  The  Indian 
village  belongs  to  the  Shoshone  tribe. 

Having  completed  his  studies  for  a landscape  which  should  combine  all 
the  characteristic  traits  of  Rocky  Mountain  scenery,  he  left  Lander’s  party 
while  it  was  still  west  of  those  mountains,  in  the  Wasatch  range,  in  South- 


Bierstadt. 


39l 


ern  Oregon,  and  set  out  on  his  return  to  the  States,  through  a dense  wil- 
derness and  mountainous  region,  occupied  by  a savage  people,  and  with 
only  two  men  as  attendants.  For  a great  part  of  their  journey  they  were 
obliged,  to  depend  entirely  upon  the  game  they  could  obtain,  and  in  sev- 
eral instances  were  days  without  water.  The  party  reached  Fort  Laramie 
in  safety,  after  a journey  of  many  days,  through  a country  perilous  even  for 
a body  of  armed  troops. 

Of  one  of  his  finished  studies  in  this  little-explored  region,  on  the  north 
fork  of  the  Platte,  Nebraska,  a critic  has  truly  said  : “Its  breadth  of  light 
in  the  background,  especially,  is  indeed  admirable.  Its  rock-painting  is 
particularly  vigorous.  Great  tabular  masses  of  limestone,  up-ended  and 
broken  into  successive  ledges — their  ruin  partly  bold  and  staring,  partly 
veiled  under  tender  foliage — are  more  picturesque  than  any  remains  of 
British  abbeys,  and  in  their  symmetry  amid  destruction  give  almost  a simi- 
lar suggestion  of  the  work  of  man.  The  sky  and  water  of  this  landscape 
are  pure  to  the  last  degree.” 

What  a contrast  to  the  artist-life  of  Rome  and  Paris  is  this  fresh  and 
free  search  for  the  picturesque  in  the  remote  and  solitary  heart  of  nature ! 
Imagine  the  model  of  the  Prairie,  as  thus  described  by  a companion  of  the 
artist  upon  his  last  expedition  : 

“ I presently  rejoined  one  of  my  companions,  and  found  him  standing, 
with  his  hand  on  his  horse’s  neck,  by  another  dead  bison.  While  our 
animals  were  resting  we  swept  the  horizon  with  our  field-glasses,  and  saw 
buffaloes  in  every  quarter  save  the  north-east,  whence  we  had  come.  From 
that  direction  the  buggy  was  advancing  toward  us,  its  cattle  doing  all  they 
could  to  make  up  the  ground  we  had  gained  over  them  in  our  run.  By  the 
time  they  came  within  hailing  distance,  Munger,  of  the  Overland  Mail,  our 
boldest  rider  and  wildest  hunter,  appeared  on  the  opposite  divide,  five 
hundred  yards  south-west,  and  beckoned  us  to  come  to  him.  He  was  on 
horseback — and  a man  so  seated  looks  colossal  across  the  prairies,  relieved 
against  the  clear  sky,  at  even  a mile’s  distance.  We  could  see  that  he  had 
something  of  importance  for  us,  and  signing  the  buggy  to  follow,  brought 
out  our  horses’  remaining  wind  to  reach  him.  Coming  up,  we  found  the 
largest  old  bull  we  had  yet  seen,  standing  at  bay  with  a dozen  revolver 
balls  in  different  portions  of  his  hide.  Nothing  but  an  elephant  dies  harder 
than  the  buffalo.  I have  pierced  the  much-vaunted  cuirass  of  the  alligator 
with  bird-shot  half-way  between  the  legs,  and  killed  him  as  easily  as  a 
snipe  ; but  the  buffalo  bull,  even  with  a Minie-ball  through  the  lungs,  does 
not  fall  immediately,  once  in  a hundred  times.  Munger  had  purposely 
stopped  this  buffalo  instead  of  killing  him,  that  Bierstadt  might  have  the 
rarest  of  artist-chances,  the  sight  of  an  old  bull  charging  before  his  death- 
shot.  The  buggy  came  up  while  we  were  holding  him  at  bay.  Our  artist 
dismounted,  brought  out  his  color  box,  fixed  his  camp-stool,  and  took  the 
charcoal  in  hand.  We  rode  toward  the  dying  warrior,  and  shouted  at 
him.  A new  glare  reddened  his  sullen  eyes  ; he  bowed  his  colossal  head 
till  his  beard  swept  the  tangled  grass  ; he  erebted  his  tail,  letting  its  tuft 


392 


American  Artist  Life. 


wave  back  flag-like  in  the  wind,  and  made  one  mad  plunge  forward.  For 
a moment  all  his  wild  majesty  was  royally  alive  in  him.  We  veered,  and 
he  turned  on  us.  We  pretended  to  fly,  and  again  he  charged.  With  every 
shifting  posture  the  artist  changed  his  place,  and  the  charcoal  quietly  moved 
on.  Parrhasius  was  among  the  buffaloes  ! But  he  was  more  merciful  than 
his  ancient  prototype.  His  line  study  was  done  quickly,  and  its  better  part 
was  one  of  those  instantaneous  negatives  which  can  never  leave  the  brain 
of  a man  who  has  seen  a buffalo  on  his  death-charge.  The  three  marks- 
men on  horseback  and  another  from  the  buggy  drew  up  in  line,  and  fired 
at  the  old  giant’s  heart.  With  one  great  gasp  he  fell  upon  his  knees — 
glared  defiantly  as  ever — half  rose  twice  and  pawed  the  earth  with  one 
hoof,  shook  his  great  mat  of  hair — fell  again — and  with  one  universal 
shiver  rolled  over,  a dead  bison.  Bierstadt  spent  the  whole  remainder  of 
the  morning  in  transferring  our  bulls  to  his  sketch-box.  I doubt  if  there 
be  any  other  country  but  Kansas  and  Nebraska  where  the  brush  follows 
so  hard  on  the  rifle  ; and  wonder  if  ever  before  color-studies  of  charging 
bison  have  been  taken  in  a double  buggy.” 

Bierstadt  is  a true  representative  of  the  Dusseldorf  school  in  landscape, 
as  is  Leutze  in  historical  painting  ; to  this  fa<5t  are  to  be  ascribed  both  his 
merits  and  defeats.  Knowingness  may  be  considered  the  special  trait  of 
this  class  of  artists  ; they  are  often  excellent  draughtsmen,  expert,  like  all 
artistic  Germans,  in  form  and  composition,  but  in  color  frequently  hard  and 
dry  ; they  abound  in  the  intellectual,  and  are  wanting  in  the  sensuous  ele- 
ment of  the  Spanish  and  Italian  schools  ; form  comes  from  perception, 
color  more  from  temperament ; and  these  must  blend  harmoniously,  or 
sentiment  will  be  lacking.  Skill  prevails  over  imagination  in  the  Dusseldorf 
artists  ; pure  light  is  often  wanting,  sharp  dewy  green  is  apt  to  be  too  prom- 
inent ; and,  as  a class,  these  painters  are  inclined  to  the  sensational  ; there 
is  an  absence  of  the  soft  pure  light  of  Troyon  and  Lambinet  in  their  land- 
scape, a mannerism  in  their  composition  ; they  are  more  effective  than  im- 
pressive ; more  clever  than  tender  ; yet,  withal,  admirably  equipped  for  their 
work,  though  often  uninspired  by  it.  One  reason  of  the  marvellous  suc- 
cess of  Bierstadt  is  that  the  Dusseldorf  style  was  a novelty  here,  though 
familiar  abroad.  Some  of  the  French,  English,  and  American  landscape- 
painters,  with  far  less  executive  power  and  technical  skill— far  less  facile 
and  forcible,  exhibit  a soulful  earnestness,  a delicate,  tender,  and  true  feel- 
ing, which  is  more  charming  and  satisfactory  than  the  most  brilliant  execu- 
tive aptitude  : in  a word,  they  have  more  to  say,  but  are  not  always  so  well 
prepared  to  say  it  ; yet  sometimes  the  stammering  of  truth  is  better  than 
the  most  fluent  egotism.  We  are  glad  to  have  the  Dusseldorf  school  so 
emphatically  represented  as  by  Bierstadt ; it  is  admirably  adapted  to  some 
scenes  and  subjects  ; it  adds  to  the  variety  and  the  popularity  of  our  land- 
scape art ; its  contrasts  are  desirable  ; and  it  appeals  to  an  order  of  minds  com- 
paratively insensible  to  more  vague  and  latent  art-language.  How  assidu- 
ous and  enterprising  Bierstadt  has  been,  is  evinced  by  the  following  partial 


Bierstadt. 


393 

catalogue  of  his  later  works,  to  which,  in  some  instances,  the  dimensions 
and  prices  obtained  are  added  : — 

“The  Rocky  Mountains — Lander’s  Peak,”  belonging  to  James  McHenry, 
Esq.,  6 by  io  feet  ($25,000). 

“Storm  in  the  Rocky  Mountains — Mount  Rosalie,”  owner,  T.  W.  Iven- 
nard,  12  by  7 feet,  valued  at  $35,000. 

“ The  Domes  of  the  Yo  Semite,”  owner,  Le  Grand  Lockwood,  Esq. 

“ Looking  down  the  Yo  Semite,”  owner,  U.  H.  Crosby. 

“ Lake  Lucerne,”  owner,  Alvin  Adams,  Esq. 

“ Laramie  Peak,”  belonging  to  the  Buffalo  Academy  of  Fine  Arts. 

“ Emigrants  Crossing  the  Plains — Sunset,”  in  possession  of  the  artist 
New  York. 

“ Sunlight  and  Shadow,”  owner,  Miss  Bierstadt,  of  New  Bedford, 
Mass. 

“The  Arch  of  Octavius,”  belonging  to  the  Boston  Athenaeum. 

“Valley  of  the  Yo  Semite,”  owner,  James  Lenox,  Esq.,  of  New  York 

“Italian  Landscape,”  owner,  G.  W.  Riggs,  Esq.,  Washington,  D.  C. 

“ Cathedral  Rock,”  owner,  William  Moller,  Esq.,  of  Irvington,  N.  Y. 

“ The  Golden  Gate,”  owner,  Gen.  J.  C.  Fremont. 

“ North  Fork  of  the  Platte,”  owner,  Judge  Hilton,  3 by  5 feet  ($7,000). 

“ The  Old  Mill,  Wesphalia,”  owner,  John  A.  Weeks,  of  New  York. 

“The  Domes  of  the  Yo  Semite”  is  panoramic  in  size;  it  is  a wildly 
magnificent  and  unique  scene,  drawn,  with  singular  fidelity,  from  the  solitary 
heart  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Some  defedts  of  execution  are  discover 
able,  but  the  effedt  of  the  whole  is  grand. 

“ The  mass  of  granite  in  the  middle  distance  is  the  North  Dome  ; its 
precipitous  walls  descend  abruptly  to  the  plain,  its  summit  is  arched  in  the 
centre,  like  the  dome  of  a cathedral ; the  flitting,  cumulous  clouds  above? 
cast  soft  shadows  on  its  sides,  and  drop  a veiling  fragment  of  mist  about 
its  head.  A ravine  divides  it  from  the  South  Dome,  whose  rounded  half 
is  turned  from  us.  This  huge  pile  is  six  thousand  feet  in  height,  the  upper 
half  being  nearly  perpendicular.  Through  a concealed  opening  behind  it 
the  hazy  morning  sunlight  pours,  and  slanting  across  a projedlion  of  the 
companion  rock,  reveals  with  singular  brightness  its  clefts  and  seams,  its 
tints  of  brown  and  purple,  and  leads  the  eye  of  the  observer  onward  to 
the  glimmering  mountain-tops  beyond,  white  with  perennial  snows. 

“ The  undulating  surface  of  the  central  plain  is  thickly  studded  with 
oaks  and  pines,  and  its  mellow  coloring,  its  charming  quiet,  offer  the  hap- 
piest contrast  to  the  sternness  of  the  cliffs  which  surround  it.  Exquisitely 
true  are  the  effedts  of  wavering  cloud-shadows  on  the  trees  and  grass,  and 
the  refledtions  in  the  clear  depths  of  the  Merced.  On  the  left  of  the  fore- 
ground, down  a precipice  strangely  stained  and  streaked  with  reddish- 
brown  tinges, — the  work  of  the  untiring  waters, — the  great  cataradt  dizzily 
springs,  suggesting,  at  first,  the  leaden  hue  of  cumuli  beyond,  but  midway 
illumined  to  dazzling  brilliancy  by  a broad  beam  of  sunshine.  Down  it 
plunges,  between  two  wooded  bluffs  into  a hidden  gorge,  sending  up  a cloud 


394 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  vaporous  spray,  against  which  the  pine  branches  of  the  immediate  fore- 
ground are  sharply  defined.  One  almost  listens  for  the  roar  of  the  falling 
waters,  looks  searchingly  through  the  shimmering  mist  at  the  jagged  rocks 
it  shrouds,  and  starts  to  see  the  waves  hurry  out  again  in  glancing  rapids, 
toss  into  foam  like  the  surf  of  the  ocean,  then,  with  added  power,  gather 
their  forces  for  the  next  fall,  and  disappear  behind  a green  hill  in  the  fore- 
ground, to  lose  themselves  in  the  river  beneath. 

“ On  the  right  is  a lofty  crag,  whose  laminated  surface  exemplifies  the 
peculiar  character  of  the  granite  of  this  valley.  Crooked  oaklings  and  the 
enduring  pines  bend  from  its  notched  sides,  or  struggle  for  existence  on  its 
brow. 

“ The  extreme  foreground  is  noticeable  for  the  minute  study  evidenced 
in  the  bright  coloring  of  moss#  and  bark,  the  dainty  crimson  and  gold  of 
the  flowers,  and  the  grace  of  the  ferns  which  droop  over  the  rocks,  or  lie 
in  the  hollows  of  dewy  emerald  nearest  the  waterfall.” 

One  of  Bierstadt’s  most  characteristic  pictures  is  thus  described  and 
discussed  by  an  independent  but  trenchant  English  journal.  The  London 
Saturday  Review  says  of  “ A Storm  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  ” : — 

“ Before  speaking  of  the  picture,  let  us  attempt  to  describe,  in  as  few 
words  as  possible,  the  scene  it  represents.  We  are  somewhere  in  the  heart 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  at  a place  in  Colorado  Territory,  about  eighty 
miles  from  Denver  City.  We  are  at  a height  of  a few  hundred  feet  from 
the  level  of  a lake  below  us.  This  lake,  which  is  small  and  very  beautiful, 
receives  a stream  from  another  lake,  on  a considerably  higher  level,  and  at 
a distance  of  several  miles.  We  see  this  second  lake  distinctly  across  the 
barrier  of  rock  that  separates  the  two,  and  over  the  barrier  we  see  the 
little  river  falling  in  a cascade.  Over  the  distant  lake  broods  an  immense 
mass  of  dark  storm-cloud,  and  we  see  the  distant  shore,  the  base  of  some 
mountain,  in  a darkness  like  coming  night.  The  cloud  soon  attraCts  our 
attention,  because  it  is  so  terrible  ; and,  towards  its  toppling  summits,  so 
elaborate.  Above  these  summits  is  a glimpse  of  almost  pure  blue  sky, 
with  fragments  of  cloud,  light  and  torn.  In  the  high  blue  heaven  there  is 
something  white,  which  we  know  by  its  form  to  be  a mountain  crest,  and 
near  this,  but  less  easily  distinguished,  is  a second  crest.  In  the  middle 
distance  the  rocky  barrier  between  the  two  lakes  rises  to  a great  elevation 
at  the  right,  and  a still  nearer  mass,  also  to  the  right,  fills  the  field  of  vision 
in  that  direction.  Just  under  this,  in  the  right  corner,  is  a little  pool  of  trans- 
parent mountain  water,  and  further  from  us  a stream  rushes  down  the  steep 
slope  of  the  rock  into  the  lake  below.  On  the  top  of  these  rocks,  to  the  right, 
the  storm  is  just  beginning  to  gather  in  shreds  of  settling  mist.  Near  the 
little  pool,  and  on  the  sloping  pasture  land  in  the  foreground,  are  groups 
of  many  trees,  and  an  alluvial  plain  near  the  lake  is  watered  by  a winding 
river,  on  whose  banks  grow  beautiful  clusters  of  wood. 

“ The  qualities  which  strike  us  in  Mr.  Bierstadt,  as  an  artist,  are,  first, 
a great  audacity,  justified  by  perfeCt  ability  to  accomplish  all  that  he  intends. 
He  is  not  a mere  copyist  of  nature,  but  an  artist  having  definite  artistic 


Bierstadt. 


395 


intentions,  and  carrying  them  out  with  care  and  resolution.  Observe,  for 
instance,  how  striCtly  in  this  work  everything  is  arranged  to  enhance  effeCt. 
It  strikes  you  at  once  as  a work  of  art,  not  a literal  production  of  nature  ; 
indeed,  the  artifices  used  are  sometimes  even  too  evident.  But  in  an  age 
when  some  hold  the  theory  that  art  may  be  dispensed  with,  and  that  mere 
copyism  is  enough,  we  welcome  a man  like  Bierstadt,  who,  though  as 
devoted  a lover  of  the  grandest  scenes  in  nature  as  any  painter  who  ever 
lived,  is,  at  the  same  time,  given  to  plotting  and  planning  for  purely  artistic 
ends.  He  is  always  trying  for  luminous  gradations  and  useful  oppositions, 
and  reaches  what  he  tries  for.  The  excess  of  his  effort  after  these  things 
may  be  repugnant  to  some  critics,  because  it  is  so  obvious,  and  seems 
incompatible  with  the  simplicity  and  self-oblivion  of  the  highest  artist 
natures.  We  believe,  however,  that  in  art  of  this  kind,  where  the  objeCt 
is  to  produce  a powerful  impression  of  overwhelming  natural  grandeur,  a 
painter  must  employ  all  the  resources  possible  to  him.  This  may  be  con- 
demned as  scene-painting,  but  it  is  very  magnificent  scene-painting,  and 
we  should  only  be  too  happy  to  see  more  of  the  same  kind.  The  storm- 
cloud  is  a success,  especially  the  toppling  crest  of  it,  with  the  lurid  re- 
flected light  under  it.  No  picture  that  we  have  ever  seen  has  more  entirely 
conveyed  a sense  of  natural  sublimity,  and  there  is  so  much  to  study  that 
the  spectator  is  detained  before  it  for  a long  time.  The  foreground  and 
lake  are  not  new  to  us,  as  painting,  being  simply  German  foreground  art 
of  the  best  kind,  but  the  cloud  is  new  and  audacious  ; and  the  relation 
between  the  base  of  the  mountain,  far  away  beyond  the  distant  lake,  in  the 
dark  cave  of  cloud,  and  the  brilliant  white  peak  in  the  blue  heaven,  appar- 
ently nearer  than  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  not  at  all  belonging  to  it, 
is  as  true  as  it  is  rare  in  art.  Mr.  Bierstadt’s  picture  is  full  of  courage  and 
ability,  and  his  nature,  which  has  a strong  grasp  of  realities,  is  well  fitted 
for  the  kind  of  work  he  has  undertaken.  The  least  agreeable  quality  in 
him  is  an  excess  of  method  and  artifice  ; but  we  are  not  disposed  to  lay 
much  stress  on  such  a fault  in  his  case,  because  without  it  he  would  never 
be  carried  safely  through  labors  so  formidable  as  this.” 

No  more  genuine  and  grand  American  work  has  been  produced  in  land- 
scape art  than  Bierstadt’s  “ Rocky  Mountains.”  Representing  the  sublime 
range  which  guards  the  remote  West,  its  subject  is  eminently  national; 
and  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  executed  is  at  once  patient  and  comprehensive 
— patient  in  the  careful  reproduction  of  the  tints  and  traits  which  make  up 
and  identify  its  local  character,  and  comprehensive  in  the  breadth,  eleva- 
tion, and  grandeur  of  the  composition.  Almost  a virgin  theme,  the  novelty 
of  the  subjeCt  alone  would  attraCt  the  student  of  nature  and  the  lover  of 
art ; both  of  whom  must  feel  a thrill  of  surprise  and  delight  to  find  a scene 
so  magnificent  rendered  with  such  power  and  truth.  Far  above  and  away, 
the  snow-clad  peaks  rising  into  a pure,  blue  sky,  and  flecked  with  sun- 
tinted  vapor ; slopes  rock-ribbed  and  icy  in  the  higher  range,  subside  by 
vast  gradations  into  valleys  of  the  richest  emerald,  whose  narrow  gorges 
at  last  spread  at  the  base  of  the  mountains  into  a verdant  plain,  into  whose 


396 


American  Artist  Life. 


luxuriant  bosom  leap  bright  waters  overhung  with  mist;  while  huge  cotton- 
woods, oaks,  and  pines  are  grouped  in  picturesque  and  umbrageous  stateli- 
ness along  the  foreground.  Sky,  atmosphere,  and  foliage,  are  all,  in  hue 
and  character,  minutely  authentic.  The  aerial  perspective  lures  the  eye 
and  imagination  away  into  infinite  depths  of  space,  until  “ Lander’s 
Peak”  inspires  sublime  emotions  like  those  which  Coleridge  so  eloquently 
utters  in  his  Hymn  in  the  Valley  of  Chamouni.  The  details  of  figures  and 
still-life  belonging  to  an  Indian  encampment  in  the  foreground  are  all 
drawn  from  nature,  and  are  not  proportioned  nor  finished  with  the  consum- 
mate skill  of  the  grander  features  of  the  work.  The  artist  himself  recog- 
nized this  incongruity,  and  it  is  one  too  easily  remedied  to  mar  the  com- 
plete and  high  impression  of  the  whole  picture — which  is  a grand  and 
gracious  epitome  and  reflection  of  nature  on  this  Continent — of  that  majes- 
tic barrier  of  the  West  where  the  heavens  and  the  earth  meet  in  brilliant 
and  barren  proximity,  where  snow  and  verdure,  gushing  fountains  and 
vivid  herbage,  noble  trees  and  azure  sky-depths,  primeval  solitudes,  the 
loftiest  summits,  and  the  boundless  plains,  combine  all  that  is  most  vast, 
characteristic,  and  beautiful  in  North  American  scenery. 

Since  this  memorable  achievement,  Bierstadt  has  delineated,  with  like 
emphasis  and  accuracy,  Mount  Hood,  in  Oregon  Territory,  the  yellow, 
craggy  valleys  of  Nevada,  and  the  remarkable  “ Storm  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains,”— all  of  which  have  excited  earnest  attention  from  the  novelty  of  the 
subjects,  and  the  masterly  and  bold,  yet  finished  execution.  Several  smaller 
landscapes,  depicting  more  limited  but  not  less  characteristic  scenes  in  the 
same  region,  have  found  prompt  and  liberal  purchasers.  His  portfolios 
contain  a large  number  of  careful  and  elaborate  studies,  and  every  inter- 
val of  leisure  has  been  and  is  still  devoted  to  the  study  and  transcript  of 
natural  phenomena.  Having  received  a Government  commission,  Bier- 
stadt sailed  for  Europe,  in  June,  1867,  to  make  some  studies  for  a picture 
of  the  discovery  of  the  North  River  by  Henry  Hudson, — a subjeCt  ad- 
mirably adapted  to  his  pencil,  and  to  national  historical  landscape.  It  was 
because  of  his  conviction  that  the  patient  and  faithful  study  of  nature 
is  the  only  adequate  school  of  landscape  art  that  Bierstadt,  like  Cole 
and  Church,  fixed  his  abode  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  His  spacious 
studio,  but  recently  ereCted,  commands  a beautiful  and  extensive  view 
of  the  noble  river,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  Tappan  Zee  and  the 
Palisades,  within  convenient  access  to  New  York,  and  in  the  midst  of  a 
genial  and  cultivated  neighborhood.  Wandering  through  the  fields 
there,  one  summer  day,  we  looked  back  from  the  brow  of  a hill  upon  one 
of  those  magnificent  yet  unusual  sunsets,  nowhere  beheld  so  often  as  on 
this  Western  continent;  a friend  at  our  side  remarked:  “If  it  were 
possible  to  transfer  these  brilliant  hues  and  this  wonderful  cloud-pidfure 
to  canvas— how  few  would  regard  the  work  as  a genuine  reflex  of  a sub- 
lime natural  fact!”  “And  yet,”  we  replied,  “its  very  unique  loveli- 
ness is  the  best  reason  for  preserving,  as  far  as  possible,  its  evanes- 


Bierstadt. 


397 


cent  glory.”  Just  at  that  moment,  in  turning  the  angle  of  an  orchard, 
we  came  in  sight  of  Bierstadt,  seated  on  a camp-stool,  rapidly  and 
with  skilful  eagerness  depicting  the  marvellous  sunset,  as  a study  for 
future  use  ; and  the  incident  was  but  another  evidence  of  the  wisdom 
and  fidelity  of  his  method  in  seeking  both  his  subjects  and  inspiration 
diredtly  from  nature. 


PORTRAITURE,  GENRE,  AND  HISTORICAL 

PAINTERS. 


Jocelyn. — Stone. — Agate. — Healy. — Ver  Bryck. — Fink. — Flagg. — Jared 
B.  Flagg. — Woodville. — Edmonds. — Freeman. — Latilla. — M bunt. — 
Glass.  — Catlin.  — Kellogg. — Deas.  — Cheney.  — Duggan. — Rowse. — 
Ranney. — M atteson. — Lang. — Ross  iter. — J.  H.  Beard. — Rothermel.  — 
White. — Le  Clear.  — Gray. — Staigg. — Hunt. — Lambdin. — Terry. — 
Vedder.  — Hennessy.  — Boughton.  — Coleman.  — Powell.  — A mes.  — 
Wenzler. — Read. — Cranch. — Ehninger. — Hicks. — Johnson. — Darley. 
— Phillips. — Carpenter. — Furness. — Hall. — Dana. — Hoppin. — Tif- 
any.  — Whistler.  — W ilde. — Bellows. — Blauvelt.  — ■ Benson.  — J.  G. 
Brown. — Walter  Brow7i. — J.  F.  Weir. — Noble. — Wood. — Lafarge.— 
Hast. — Baker. — Tho?)ipson. — Guy. — Homer. — Forbes. — Copeland.  — 
Falconer. — Butler. — Gould. — Nehlig. — J.  OH.  Lnman. — Yewell. — • 
Scott. — Mayer. — Genin , and  others.  — Bingham. — A udubon. — Tait.  — 
Bispham. — Brackett. — W.  H.  Beard. — May. — Wight. 

HOTOGRAPHY  has  done  and  is  doing  much  to  banish 
mediocrity  in  portraiture,  and  it  has,  in  a great  measure, 
superseded  miniature-painting  ; when,  for  a comparatively 
trifling  expense,  a literal,  though  sometimes  unsatisfactory, 
likeness  can  be  obtained  by  a mechanical  and  chemical 
process,  the  only  delineators  of  the  “human  face  divine”  whose  services 
are  likely  to  be  called  into  frequent  requisition  are  those  whose  superior 
ability  or  original  genius  make  their  works  infinitely  transcend  the 
commonplace  and  the  familiar;  accordingly  it  seems  a just  inference  from 
the  economy  and  facility  of  the  photographic  art,  that  the  time  will  come 
when  only  the  very  best  class  of  portrait-painters  can  find  encouragement. 
Mechanical  ingenuity  and  scientific  success  can  never  take  the  place  of  art ; 
for  the  latter  is  a product  of  the  soul,  and  its  highest  triumphs  have  a 
spiritual  significance  unattainable  through  material  methods  alone;  but  by 
the  prevalence  and  success  of  the  latter,  the  line  between  pure  art  and 
pretension  thereto  is  more  distinctly  drawn,  mediocrity  is  absolutely  dis- 


Portraiture,  Genre,  and  Historical  Painters.  399 

couraged,  and  hence  the  ideal  and  progressive  in  art  is  indirectly  but 
immeasurably  fostered. 

Many  American  artists  who  have  commenced  with  portraiture,  or  still 
occasionally  engage  therein,  also  devote  themselves  to  historical  and  genre 
art.  Inadequately  equipped,  with  rare  exceptions,  for  the  latter,  in  conse- 
quence of  want  of  requisite  training  as  draughtsmen,  comparatively  few 
have  reached  excellence  in  a branch  which  has  been  so  cleverly  illustrated 
by  popular  French,  German,  and  English  painters,  being  without  the  essential 
foundation  of  corredt  drawing,  or  destitute  of  the  talent  for  expression,  or 
the  sentiment  which  gives  it  value  and  significance.  The  majority  of  as- 
pirants in  the  more  refined  and  ambitious  sphere  of  composition,  fall  far 
short  of  mastery,  and  original  force  and  finish.  An  unfortunate  prejudice  too 
exclusively  cherished  against,  or  in  favor  of,  the  Pre-Raphaelite,  the  French, 
or  the  old  Italian  school,  is  apt  to  diminish  or  modify  their  efficiency  by  exag- 
gerating the  peculiarities  or  ignoring  the  true  claims  of  one  or  another  of  these 
styles.  In  the  former,  the  example  of  T.  C.  Farrar,  an  English  artist  in  New 
York,  is  cited  with  emphasis  by  the  ultra  adherents  of  minute  finish  in  details, 
while  the  conventional  color  of  the  French,  and  the  literal  fidelity  of  the 
Diisseldorf  school,  often  detraft  from  the  native  character  of  another  class 
of  works.  The  liberal,  sympathetic,  and  discerning  lover  of  truth  in  art, 
both  in  practice  and  criticism,  will  cherish  and  recognize  an  eclectic  ideal. 

Nathaniel  Jocelyn  was  born  in  New  Haven,  Ct.,  in  1796,  and  still  resides 
there,  a highly  esteemed  and  prosperous  citizen.  In  1810  he  was  a student, 
and  in  1818  a successful  practitioner  of  engraving  ; he  was  a 
member  of  the  Graphic  Company  of  Hartford,  and  devoted  Jocelyn, 
himself,  with  skill  and  good  fortune,  to  bank-note  engrav- 
ing; he  exhibited  several  portraits  in  1826;  and  a few  years  later,  was 
the  occupant  of  an  eligible  studio,  and  known  by  his  skill  in  likenesses. 

One  of  the  most  popular  of  our  New  York  portrait-painters,  Oliver  Stone, 
noted  for  his  beautiful  heads  of  women  and  children,  rich 
in  color  and  graceful  in  treatment,  studied  his  art  with  Oliver  Stone. 
Mr.  Jocelyn. 

Frederick  S.  Agate  was  born  in  Sparta,  N.  Y.,  in  1807  ; visited  Italy  in 
1835  i he  was  an  excellent  and  amiable  man,  and  an  assiduous  student  in 
art ; although  he  died  without  having  executed  works  of 
great  permanent  interest,  those  he  left  prove  no  common  Agate, 
talent  for  composition,  and  nearly  all  of  them  were  engraved 
for  the  annuals  ; the  best  known  are  “ The  Dead  Christ  and  Mother,” 
“ Columbus  and  the  Egg,”  “The  Ascension,”  and  “Count  Ugolino.” 

George  Peter  Alexander  Healy  is  a native  of  Boston  ; born  in  1808,  he 
visited  Paris  in  1836,  and  since  that  period  has  practised  his  art,  with 
much  lucrative  success,  alternately  abroad  and  at  home. 

His  style  is  essentially  of  the  French  school.  At  the  Paris  Healy. 
Exhibition  in  1855,  an  elaborate  and  characteristic  work 
ot  this  artist  won  much  attention,  especially  as  no  less  than  thirteen 
portraits  by  the  same  hand  were  exhibited  at  the  same  time.  The 


400 


American  Artist  Life. 


subject  of  the  large  picture  was  “Franklin  urging  the  Claims  of  the 
American  Colonies  before  Louis  XVI.  ; ” another  specimen  of  his  histori- 
cal portraiture,  is  “Webster’s  Reply  to  Hayne,”  in  Faneuil  Hall,  Bos- 
ton. Rugged,  forcible,  and  characteristic,  the  portraits  of  Healey,  when 
the  subjeCt  is  favorable  and  the  artist  in  earnest,  are  among  the  best  of 
their  kind.  The  vigor  of  execution  apparent  in  the  best  works  of  Healey  is 
not  less  remarkable  than  his  facility  and  enterprise  : his  likenesses  often 
want  delicacy,  but  seldom  lack  emphasis.  His  industry  has  rarely  been 
excelled,  and  probably  no  American  painter  of  our  day  has  delineated  so 
many  eminent  men  : among  them  are  Louis  Philippe,  Marshal  Soult,  Cal- 
houn, Webster,  Cass,  and  nearly  all  our  leading  statesmen  and  politicians  ; 
he  has  also  painted  portraits,  often  full-length  and  in  elaborate  costume,  of 
ladies  prominent  in  American  society.  The  West  has  afforded  him  a new  and 
profitable  field  of  late  years  ; and  he  has  made  his  headquarters  at  Chicago. 

In  the  group  of  the  Webster  picture  are  one  hundred  and  thirty  portraits  : 
Healy’s  portrait  of  M.  Guizot  is  in  the  Smithsonian  Institute  ; that  of  Mar- 
shal Soult  is  owned  by  Mrs.  Dalghren,  of  Washington,  D.C.  ; those  of 
Patrick  Jackson,  Nathan  Appleton,  and  John  A.  Lowell,  full-lengths,  are 
in  the  Hall  of  Lowell,  Mass.  ; that  of  George  Peabody  is  at  Danvers,  Mass.  ; 
his  half-length  of  Longfellow  belongs  to  that  poet’s  publishers  in  Boston  ; and 
his  full-length  of  William  B.  Ogden  is  in  that  gentleman’s  possession,  also 
a group  consisting  of  his  brother-in-law  and  two  children  ; a full-length  of 
Henry  Farnham  is  at  his  residence,  Chicago,  111.  Since  Healy  took  up  his 
abode  in  that  city  in  the  autumn  of  1855,  he  has  executed  five  hundred  and 
seventy-seven  portraits  : those  of  the  ex-Presidents  of  the  United  States 
are  at  the  Capitol ; that  of  Mr.  Seward  in  the  State  Library,  Albany  ; and 
that  of  Bishop  McCloskey  at  the  Church  residence  there. 

Among  the  American  artists  of  rich  and  delicate  natures  and  high  prom- 
ise, who  have  been  cut  off  in  their  youth,  is  Cornelius  Ver  Bryck  ; — loved 
and  lamented  by  all  who  knew  him  ; the  brother-in-law  of 
Ver  Bryck.  Huntington,  and  akin  to  him  in  aspirations  and  taste,  he 
had  won  the  warm  regard  of  his  associates  in  the  study 
of  art,  one  of  whom,  Thomas  Cole,  whose  praise  and  sympathy  are  in  them- 
selves adequate  testimony  to  superior  worth,  wrote  the  following  tribute 
to  Ver  Bryck,  in  a leading  journal  : — 

“ In  compliance  with  a request  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design,  the 
writer  has  attempted  a short  memoir  of  Cornelius  Ver  Bryck,  the  third 
member  of  that  institution,  whose  remains  they  have  been  called  upon  to  fol- 
low to  the  grave  within  a few  months  ; and  if  the  departure  of  one  gifted  with 
the  highest  moral  and  intellectual  qualities  should  ever  call  forth  the  expres- 
sion of  sorrow,  we  are  now  emphatically  called  upon  for  our  tribute  of  grief 
“ The  life  of  an  artist  is  proverbially  barren  of  those  stirring  incidents  and 
strange  vicissitudes  that  interest  the  reading  multitude,  and  his  biography 
consists,  in  a great  measure,  of  an  account  of  his  birth  and  death,  and  a 
description  of  his  works  ; and  to  this  the  life  of  Mr.  Ver  Bryck  will  furnish 
no  exception.  Yet,  if  the  expression  of  what  those  who  knew  him  feel  for  his 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


401 


loss,  were  such  matter  as  would  interest  in  the  columns  of  a public  journal, 
their  hearts  could  easily  dictate  a tribute  to  the  memory  of  one  so  much  loved. 

“ Mr.  Ver  Bryck  was  born  at  Yaugh  Paugh,  New  Jersey,  on  the  first  of 
January,  1813.  In  childhood  he  discovered  a predilection  for  the  Fine  Arts, 
which  strengthened  with  his  years,  and  at  length  caused  him  to  become  an 
artist  by  profession.  The  present  writer  is  not  informed  of  the  time  when 
he  undertook  the  art  of  painting  professionally-;  but,  in  1835,  studied  for 
some  time  under  Mr.  Morse,  President  of  the  National  Academy.  His 
health  failing  him,  he  went  to  Mobile  in  the  fall  of  1837,  and  a much  esteemed 
friend  of  his,  to  whom  I am  indebted  for  much  of  the  information  in  this 
memoir,  says  that  he  carried  with  him  several  pictures,  among  which  were 
one  of  a Bacchante,  and  another  of  a Cavalier,  which  were  much  admired, 
and  purchased  from  him  at  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama.  He  remained  in  that 
place  two  months,  and  would  have  made  a longer  stay  had  his  health  per- 
mitted, as  his  encouragement  was  equal  to  his  wishes.  He  returned  to 
Mobile,  and  early  in  the  spring  he  sailed  for  New  York.  In  1839,  stimu- 
lated with  the  desire  to  behold,  with  his  own  eyes,  the  wonders  of  ancient 
art,  and  scenes  that  through  history  and  poetry  had  long  been  familiar  to 
his  mind,  he  sailed  for  London,  in  company  with  his  friends.  Huntington 
and  Gray,  and  for  a time  enjoyed,  as  such  a mind  as  his  can  only  enjoy,  the 
works  of  the  great  masters,  and  the  works  of  art  to  be  found  in  London  and 
Paris.  But,  unfortunately,  his  stay  in  the  Old  World  was  too  short ; for 
he  was  called  home  by  the  illness  of  a sister ; his  brother  was  at  the  point 
of  death  when  he  left  New  York,  and  died  before  he  arrived  in  London. 

“ After  his  return  home,  he  was  occupied  in  landscape  and  historical  pic- 
tures. Among  the  latter  was  one  whose  subjeCt  was  4 And  one  was  taken 
and  the  other  left.’  This  picture  was  finely  conceived  ; it  represented  a 
blessed  spirit  ascending  toward  Heaven,  with  enraptured  expression,  in 
the  midst  of  light ; while  below,  in  murky  gloom,  was  seen  one  of  the  ac- 
cursed ones,  with  demoniac  face,  descending. 

“The  writer  believes  that  in  the  year  1840  he  was  eledled  as  member  of 
the  Academy,  having  previously  been  made  an  associate,  a tribute  due  to 
his  talent  and  character.  For  a few  years  he  pursued  his  art,  struggling 
against  ill-health  and  unfavorable  circumstances  until  1843,  when  his  friend 
Huntington,  with  his  wife,  who  was  the  sister  of  one  to  whom  Mr.  Ver 
Bryck  was  deeply  attached,  proposed  to  visit  Europe  again.  Suffering 
from  disease,  and  in  the  hope  that  a voyage  might  restore  him,  Mr.  Ver 
Bryck  determined  to  accompany  his  friend.  To  accomplish  this  was  diffi- 
cult, but  generosity  and  devoted  love  accomplished  it.  Mr.  Ver  Bryck  was 
married  on  the  eve  of  his  sailing  for  Europe.  The  party  sailed  for  Eng- 
land in  May  ; the  voyage  was  favorable,  and  as  far  as  health  would  permit, 
Mr.  Ver  Bryck  enjoyed  the  scenery  of  the  Isle  of  Wight  and  England  ex- 
ceedingly. The  cathedrals,  castles,  abbeys,  and  exhibitions,  seemed  to  fill 
his  mind  with  delight ; but,  alas  ! neither  the  beauties  of  nature  nor  the 
charms  of  art  could  check  the  inroads  of  disease,  and  even  the  ever-hopeful 
eye  of  affedtion  could  perceive  in  him  no  change  for  the  better,  and  with 

26 


402 


American  Artist  Life. 


his  wife  he  left  England  and  arrived  in  New  York  in  the  autumn.  Return 
brought  no  relief ; the  air  of  his  native  country  had  no  healing  balm  ; he 
lingered  through  the  winter,  suffering  much,  but  at  times  cheated  into  hope 
by  the  deceitful  slumberings  of  his  disease,  until  on  the  31st  of  May  he  ex- 
pired. His  mind  was  clear  and  calm  to  the  last,  when  his  soul,  which  through 
religion  had  been  blest  and  purified,  was  freed  from  its  mortal  tenement. 

“The  principal  circumstances  of  Mr.  Ver  Bryck’s  life  have  been  thus 
hastily  related,  in  order  to  dwell  more  particularly  on  his  character,  which 
is  endearing  to  all  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  acquainted  with  him. 

“It  would  almost  seem  that  the  higher  the  intellectual  qualities  possessed 
by  man,  the  less  fitted  he  is  for  encountering  with  success  the  stormy  pas- 
sage of  life  ; that  he  whose  mind  is  cast  in  nature’s  most  finished  mould — 
the  mould  of  genius  and  taste — is  least  capable  of  withstanding  the  asperity 
of  aCtual  life,  and  we  frequently  find  that  the  possessors  of  these  fatal  gifts 
become  early  tenants  of  the  tomb.  Of  this  class  was  Mr.  Ver  Bryck  ; the 
flame  burnt  too  brightly  to  burn  long.  Endowed  with  the  keenest  sensibil- 
ities, his  heart  responded  to  every  call.  The  love  of  the  beautiful  was  the 
law  of  his  being  ; the  beautiful  in  nature  and  art  his  chief  joy.  A sight  of  the 
mountains  moved  him  with  unutterable  thoughts,  and  he  could  truly  say  : — 

‘“To  me,  the  meanest  flower  that  blows,  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears.’ 

“ Himself  of  poetic  temperament,  his  taste  for  poetry  was  exquisite  ; but 
he  loved  most  those  antique  songs  wherein  simplicity  of  sentiment  and 
style  were  combined  with  the  mystic  grandeur  of  olden  time.  He  had  a 
deep  reverence  for  antiquity  ; and  what  poetical  mind  has  not  ? for  it  clothes 
the  dim  and  shadowy  forms  of  the  past  with  drapery  of  its  own. 

“ Music  was  a passion  with  him  ; his  voice  was  low,  but  sweet,  and  he  ac- 
companied his  songs  on  the  guitar  with  great  taste  ; and  in  his  hours  of 
quietness  and  solitude  many  a plaintive  song  of  Ver  Bryck’s  steals  like  an 
/Eolian  strain  on  the  mind’s  ear  of  the  writer  of  this  memoir.  Speaking, 
in  a letter  written  during  his  last  visit  to  England,  of  the  pleasure  he  en- 
joyed in  visiting  Winchester  Cathedral,  he  says  : 

“ ‘ We  remained  and  heard  the  service  chanted.  To  me  it  seemed  very 
impressive — the  sweet,  plaintive  tones  of  the  boys — that  long-drawn 
“ Amen,”  so  often  repeated  in  rich  harmony — the  touching  words  of  the 
psalm — “ Have  mercy  on  me,  O Lord,  for  I am  in  trouble  : mine  eye  is 
consumed  for  very  heaviness,  yea,  my  soul  and  my  body.”  I thought  I 
had  never  heard  true  church  music  before.’ 

“Alas  ! he  could  too  well  feel  the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  for  disease  was 
then  consuming  him. 

“ With  all  his  artistic  feeling  and  enthusiasm'for  art,  the  productions  of  Mr. 
Ver  Bryck’s  pencil  were  not  numerous  ; and  perhaps  when  we  consider  the 
obstacles  that  rose  in  his  path,  there  will  be  little  reason  for  surprise  at  this. 

“ Portrait-painting,  frequently  the  last  anchor  of  the  artist,  which  he  casts 
out  when  all  others  have  dragged,  was  not  to  him  lucrative  ; and  al- 
though it  occupied  many  of  his  most  valuable  hours,  and  stole  from  him 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  403 

precious  moments  which  ought  to  have  been  employed  in  embodying  the 
creations  of  his  poetic  mind,  it  scarcely  furnished  him  with  the  means  of 
support.  He  was  of  all  men  the  least  fitted  for  the  portrait-painter  ; the 
disappointments,  the  delays,  the  pert  criticisms,  the  tantalizing  caprice  of 
sitters  and  their  friends,  were  hard  for  him  to  bear,  and  they  wore  upon  him. 

“ His  landscapes,  which  were  simple  productions — views  or  compositions 
exhibiting  nature  in  her  tranquil  aspeCts — as  well  as  his  historical  pictures, 
too  frequently  remained  without  a purchaser.  The  high  qualities  of  his 
works,  which  ought  to  have  brought  him  encouragement  and  profit,  were 
passed  unnoticed  by  the  multitude,  and  the  coarse  scenes  of  the  tavern 
could  frequently  find  purchasers,  while  the  chaste  works  of  Ver  Bryck  had 
no  attractions.  The  hand  of  the  artist  is  palsied  if  he  once  feels  his  works 
produce  no  glow  or  sympathy  in  the  minds  of  the  beholders.  Mr.  Ver 
Bryck  needed  a more  ample  praCtice  than  he  ever  had  in  order  that  his 
executions  should  be  equal  to  his  conceptions  ; but  difficult  is  it  to  toil  on 
works  which,  when  completed,  will  in  all  probability  meet  with  the  same 
cold  reception  from  the  world  that  their  predecessors  have  done.  4 Hope 
deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick,’  and  this  Ver  Bryck  had  often  felt.  Hope 
itself  died  within  him,  for  he  had  other  and  more  unconquerable  obstacles 
in  his  path  than  those  of  which  I have  spoken.  There  was  a great  shadow 
over  him,  for  4 melancholy  marked  him  for  her  own,’  and  solitude  to  him 
was  next  to  death.  Consumption,  which  had  swept  away  brother  and  sis- 
ters, until  of  a numerous  family  but  two  or  three  remained,  hung  like  a 
speCtre  over  him,  ever  pointing  to  the  grave.  In  the  language  of  a friend 
who  has  been  speaking  of  the  absence  of  selfishness  in  Mr.  Ver  Bryck,  in 
not  comprehending  that  his  society  fully  compensated  others  for  their  kind- 
ness to  him,  his  guitar  was  his  never-failing  companion,  and  made  him 
companionable  to  all.  Melancholy  and  plaintive  were  the  songs  he  loved 
best,  charabt eristic  of  thoughts  and  feelings  too  often  controlling  him  ; 
when  among  his  friends,  no  one  could  enjoy  more  or  add  more  to  the 
pleasure  of  others.  No  one  needed  more  the  excitement  of  society  to 
make  him  forget  the  spedlre  which  so  closely  followed  him. 

“Illustrative  of  the  tone  of  his  mind  is  a passage  in  one  of  his  letters  : 
4 They  may  say  what  they  will  of  Hope  and  her  pleasures.  Oh  ! oft  has 
she  cheated  me  ; but  Memory — I love  her,  she  is  kind— doth  she  not  make 
the  pleasant  seem  more  pleasant,  the  good  better,  the  beautiful  still  more 
lovely  ? And  even  our  past  sorrows,  she  hath  a way  of  softening  them,  till 
they  are  almost  sources  of  joy.  A ruin,  a pile  of  stones  and  mortar,  are 
unsightly ; but  Time  covers  it  with  moss  and  ivy,  and  it  is  beautiful.’ 

“In  another  letter  he  says  : 4 I believe  I am  getting  old,  for  my  pleasures 
are  more  of  Memory  than  of  Hope  ’ 

44  But  as  the  sands  of  life  wasted  away,  the  flame  of  Hope  burned  more 
brightly  in  his  bosom  ; and,  lifted  by  religious  faith  above  this  shadowy 
vale  of  tears,  his  eye  caught  glimpses  of  a glorious  future  which  made  the 
past  seem  dim,  and  he  longed  to  depart. 

“ His  mortal  remains  rest  in  Greenwood  Cemetery,  in  a spot  chosen  by 


404 


American  Artist  Life . 

himself,  in  a quiet  dell,  beneath  the  shade  of  trees  ; and  when  he  was  in- 
terred, flowers,  which  he  loved  so  much,  were  growing  near  the  grave  ; and 
as  has  been  said  of  another  spot,  where  a child  of  genius,  cut  off  also  in  the 
early  promise  of  his  years  : ‘ It  might  make  one  in  love  with  Death,  to 
think  that  he  should  be  buried  in  so  sweet  a place.’ 

“ It  is  ours  to  regret  that  disease  and  death  should  so  soon  have  checked 
the  development  of  powers  which  seem  to  have  been  of  the  highest  order. 
But  though  the  works  of  his  pencil  were  few,  his  virtues  were  many,  and 
his  friends  will  ever  cherish  the  memory  of  them.  And  there  is  one  .whose 
widowed  sorrow  will  be  softened  by  the  consciousness  that  her  pure  self- 
sacrificing  love  smoothed  the  passage  of  his  spirit  to  the  tomb. 


“ 1 Peace  ! peace  ! he  is  not  dead,  he  doth  not  sleep, 

He  hath  awakened  from  the  dream  of  Life. 

’Tis  we,  who  lost  in  stormy  visions,  keep 
With  phantoms  an  unprofitable  strife.’  ” 

There  is  a pi&ure  of  a “ Dutch  Bible  and  Skull  ” in  the  collection  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society,  one  of  Ver  Bryck’s  earliest  attempts,  which 
indicates  decided  artistic  aptitude  and  skill ; — a promise  confirmed  by  his 
“ Head  of  a Cavalier,”  “ Charles  the  First  in  Vandyke’s  Studio,”  and  the 
study  for  “ Stephen  before  the  Council ; ” the  effeCt  of  light  from  the  mar- 
tyr’s head,  in  the  latter,  is  like  Rembrandt. 

Frederick  Fink  was  born  at  Little  Falls,  N.  Y.,  December  1 8,  1817  ; he 
went  abroad  in  1840,  and  made  copies  of  Titian  and  Murillo.  He  was  a 
grandson  of  Major  Fink,  of  Revolutionary  fame,  and  com- 
Fink.  menced  the  study  of  medicine  with  Dr.  Beck,  of  Albany, 
and  then  joined  his  brother  in  mercantile  pursuits  ; but, 
impelled  by  an  invincible  love  of  art,  he  went  to  New  York,  formed  the 
acquaintance  of  Trumbull,  Crawford,  and  Morse,  and  studied  painting 
with  the  latter.  The  subjects  of  the  few  pictures  he  lived  to  execute 
are,  “ An  Artist’s  Studio,”  “The  Shipwrecked  Mariner,”  “The  Young 
Thieves,”  “ A Negro  Wood-sawyer,”  etc.  Beginning  at  the  age  of 
eighteen  with  a portrait  of  W.  S.  Parker,  which  was  much  admired,  through 
it  he  became  known  to  Schoolcraft,  obtained  commissions,  and  went  to 
Europe.  He  showed  decided  talent  for  genre  art.  He  died  in  1849,  much 
lamented. 

Twenty-five  years  ago,  one  of  our  most  promising  young  genre  painters 
was  George  W.  Flagg.  Several  of  his  portraits  and  a few  of  his  composi- 
tions will  be  remembered  by  our  older  lovers  of  art. 
Flagg.  He  has  but  recently  returned  from  a long  sojourn  in 
London. 

To  an  observant  eye  the  metropolis  of  New  York  is  an  epitome  of  the 
Old  World.  One  can  there  discover  some  hint  or  vestige,  some  emblem 
of  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  When  we  hear  a returned  traveller  sigh 
for  Europe,  we  lament  that  his  imagination  is  so  inactive  ; for,  were  it  other- 
wise, he  would  find  in  his  daily  walks  objeCls  to  rouse  the  dormant  asso- 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  405 

ciations  of  his  pilgrimage,  and  transport  him  in  fancy  to  the  scenes  he 
* regrets.  Herein  have  the  poet  and  artist  their  advantage.  In  that  grand 
fable  of  the  division  of  the  earth,  after  Jupiter  had  given  his  share  to  each 
applicant,  the  bard  came  forward,  and  there  was  no  alternative  but  to  assign 
him  the  freedom  of  the  whole  universe.  If  fortune  was  denied,  all  nature 
became  tributary  to  his  soul.  Hence  one  of  the  race  complacently  ex- 
claims, as  it  were  in  the  very  face  of  the  world — “ You  cannot  shut  the 
windows  of  the  sky  ! ” and  seems  quite  content  that  it  is  permitted  him 
to  look  through  them.  We  fell  into  this  train  of  musing  after  leaving 
Flagg’s  room,  one  clear,  warm  day.  He  was  just  putting  the  finish- 
ing touches  to  a picture  which  took  our  eyes  and  heart  at  once,  and 
the  impression  lingered  very  sweetly  for  hours  after.  This,  by  the  way,  is 
no  inadequate  test  of  the  life  in  a work  of  art,  though  not  of  its  abstract 
merit.  We  once  heard  a celebrated  poet  say,  that  memory  was  the  best 
crucible  in  which  to  assay  verse.  Whatever  possessed  any  of  the  divine 
afflatus,  he  declared,  knit  itself  into  the  web  of  bis  reminiscences,  so  that 
a really  fine  bit  of  rhyme  became  a part  of  his  intellectual  vitality,  and  rose 
and  fell  on  the  tide  of  reflection  like  a water-lily,  sometimes  o’ershadowed 
by  a cloud  of  care  or  drooping  in  the  heat  of  daily  strife,  but  ever  and 
anon  raising  and  opening  its  pure  and  fragrant  leaves  to  refresh  his  vacant 
mood.  The  subject  of  Flagg’s  picture  was  quite  familiar  to  all  who  daily 
pass  along  Broadway,  and  yet  to  him  only  did  it  offer  itself  in  a picturesque 
and  suggestive  light — as  a thing  to  rescue  from  the  crowd,  and  embody  in 
outline  and  color,  and  light  and  shade,  and  so  enshrine  as  a type  of  the 
beautiful,  a fragment  of  life  the  contemplatian  of  which  might  touch  the 
chords  of  feeling,  and  make  audible  some  latent  strain  of  melancholy  sweet- 
ness. It  was  the  “ Mouse-Boy,”  that  little  brown  varlet  who  used  to  beg  for 
pennies,  and  show  his  white  mice,  which  he  carried  about  in  a small  box 
strapped  to  his  neck.  A juvenile  countryman  of  the  discoverer  of  this 
continent  demurely  vagabondizing  in  its  principal  city,  assuredly  savors  of 
the  romantic  ; but  Flagg  enriched  his  model  by  deepening  the  eyes  with 
Italian  sensibility,  and  casting  into  the  attitude  and  over  the  face  that  win- 
some and  beaming  tranquillity — that  dolce  far  niente  so  southern,  so  in- 
fectious— the  luxurious  repose  upon  one’s  own  sensations,  to  be  felt  rather 
than  seen,  as  if  the  balmy  sunshine  of  his  native  Genoa  lay  soft  around 
the  indolent  urchin,  and  the  blue  Mediterranean  was  spreading  to  cradle 
the  azure  reflected  from  above,  before  his  enamored  gaze  ! There  is  an 
admirable  simplicity  in  the  design.  The  boy  is  seated  upon  a rock,  his 
box  upon  his  knee,  and  the  left  elbow  very  naturally  resting  on  its  lid, 
while  over  the  back  of  the  outstretched  hand  the  mouse  runs  playfully 
along.  The  tone  of  the  coloring  is  very  harmonious,  the  position  alto- 
gether graceful  and  easy,  and  the  impression  of  the  picture  at  once  natural 
and  pleasing.  There  is  a class  of  subjects  between  the  high  ideal  and  the 
homely  true,  where  the  simplicity  of  mere  nature  is  a kind  of  basis  for  sen- 
timent, which  are  admirably  calculated  to  enlist  universal  sympathy.  The 
effeCfc  of  such  painting  upon  the  mind  is  something  like  that  of.  the  poetry 


40  6 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  Burns.  Jeannie  Deans  and  the  heroine  of  the  Promessi  Sposi  are  char- 
aCters  which  assimilate  to  the  range  of  which  we  speak,  in  fiCtion.  Murillo 
finely  represents  it  in  art.  If  we  look  upon  one  of  his  Madonnas — not  as 
a Holy  Family,  but  only  as  a mother  and  her  child — their  exquisite  nature 
is  enchanting,  although  as  poetical  or  religious  conceptions  they  may  disap- 
point ; but  there  is  a genuine  humanity,  a real  natural  beauty  about  them 
which  excites  love  in  the  same  proportion  that  more  elevated  compositions 
awaken  veneration.  This  picture  of  Flagg’s  belongs  essentially  to  the 
same  school.  It  aptly  combines  nature  with  sentiment,  and  thus  gives  a 
true  glimpse  of  what  may  be  called  the  poetry  of  humble  life.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  this  artist  excels  in  subjects  like  these.  We  hope  he  will  devote 
himself  more  earnestly  to  them.  The  picture  which  gained  him  the  most 
reputation  abroad  was  of  a similar  description — the  “ Match-Girl.”  It  was 
just  the  thing  which  the  countrymen  of  Gainsborough  could  instantly  ap- 
preciate. Let  Flagg  work  at  this  vein  faithfully,  and  the  result  cannot  be 
otherwise  than  highly  satisfactory.  He  has  proved  in  the  picture  we  have 
noticed,  that  he  can  at  happy  moments  throw  aside  the  dry  style  of  color 
to  which  he  was  formerly  addicted,  and  emancipate  himself  from  the  tram- 
mels of  imitation.  George  W.  Flagg  was  born  in  New  Haven,  Connecticut, 
June  26,  1816,  and  passed  his  boyhood  in  Charleston,  S.  C.  Of  late  years  he 
has  resided  in  London.  He  has  labored  under  the  disadvantage  of  having 
been  a prodigy,  for  as  a boy-painter  he  was  the  pet  of  the  Bostonians,  after 
a surfeit  of  injudicious  though  very  natural  admiration  at  the  South,  where 
his  juvenile  portrait  of  Bishop  England  excited  no  little  wonder.  As  was 
to  be  expeCted,  the  youth  soon  began  to  work  under  the  influence  of  love 
of  approbation  too  exclusively  to  effeCt  anything  genuine.  Fortunately  he 
soon  became  a pupil  of  his  uncle,  Washington  Allston,  and  enjoyed  the 
inestimable  privilege  of  that  master’s  example  and  affeClionate  instructions 
for  two  or  three  years.  He  was  by  his  side  when  he  painted  “ Spalatro 
and  Schedoni,”  and  used  to  watch  him  as  he  started  back  from  the  canvas 
and  threw  himself  into  the  attitude  of  the  figure  he  was  designing— which 
was  his  constant  habit,  and  a fine  illustration  of  nervous  sympathy — the 
engagement  of  the  whole  man,  body  and  soul,  in  his  work.  At  the  same 
period  he  painted  “ Rosalie,”  and  Flagg  is  a witness  to  the  faCt  that  the 
inimitable  head  of  that  sweet  creation  was  finished,  contrary  altogether  to 
Allston’s  usual  practice,  in  three  hours. 

The  designs  of  Flaxman  first  revealed  to  Flagg  the  necessity  of  study, 
and  the  conversation  of  his  gifted  relative  gradually  opened  to  his  view  the 
immense  treasures  and  far-reaching  agencies  of  his  profession.  Allston  pro- 
phesied future  eminence  for  his  nephew.  “ That  boy,”  said  he,  “ if  I mistake 
not,  will  do  great  things  one  of  these  days.”  He  frequently  accompanied 
Allston  in  his  walks,  and  the  latter  availed  himself  of  every  noteworthy 
objeCt  and  impressive  incident  to  urge  some  high  or  touching  lesson. 
Especially  did  he  endeavor  to  bring  home  to  the  feelings  of  his  pupil  the 
religious  tendencies  of  Art,  and  to  make  him  realize  the  need  of  aspiration, 
as  an  element  of  all  greatness  and  exalted  success.  He  stayed  his  incon- 


Portraiture,  Genre,  and  Historical  Painters.  407 

siderate  criticisms,  and,  on  one  occasion,  wrote  a beautiful  little  poem, 
expressly  to  charge  his  nephew’s  memory  with  the  result  of  his  own  experi- 
ence— that  mere  pleasure,  sought  for  its  own  sake,  was  thoroughly  unsatis- 
factory to  an  elevated  mind.  He  described  to  him,  when  the  labors  of  the 
day  were  over,  the  characters  of  the  interesting  men  he  had  met  abroad, 
and  portrayed  to  his  imagination,  as  only  an  artist  can,  the  beautiful  women 
he  had  seen.  Such  was  the  education  of  Flagg,  a rare  and  enviable  one, 
considering  its  superiority  to  that  which  ordinarily  attends  the  early  life 
of  our  painters.  Among  the  efforts  of  his  novitiate,  still  rememembered, 
are  “A  boy  listening  to  a Ghost  story  from  the  lips  of  a Hag,”  and  “A 
Young  Greek.  ” At  length  he  produced  “Jacob  and  Rachel  at  the  Well,” 
which  evinced  such  merit  that  Allston  said,  “ Now  you  may  consider 
yourself  an  artist.”  A full-length  of-a  boy,  exhibited  at  New  York,  caused 
him  to  be  elected  an  honorary  member  of  the  National  Academy  ; and  a 
cabinet  portrait  of  Madame  Pico,  in  the  character  of  Cenerentola,  with 
Venetian  architecture  in  the  background,  won  him  favorable  notice 
during  a successful  operatic  season.  A picture  of  the  “ Murder  of  the 
Princess,”  from  Richard  IIP,  had  before  procured  him  the  liberal  support 
of  Luman  Read,  through  whose  assistance  he  visited  Europe,  and  gave 
three  years  to  intercourse  with  artists  and  the  study  of  the  best  works 
abroad.  Flagg  has  suffered  from  ill  health,  and  his  efforts  have  been  un- 
equal, and  often  wholly  subservient  to  temporary  necessities.  In  view, 
however,  of  the  remarkable  advantages  he  has  enjoyed,  and  that  maturity 
which  only  experience  can  bring,  we  cannot  but  look  upon  the  happier 
specimens  of  his  ability  to  which  we  have  referred,  as  pledges  of  yet  more 
consistent  exertions,  such  as  will  amply  vindicate  the  promise  of  his  boy- 
hood and  the  fame  of  his  lineage. 

Flagg’s  principal  compositions  in  New  Haven  were  painted  for  the  late 
James  Brewster,  Esq.,  of  that  city  ; “ The  Landing  of  the  Pilgrims,”  “The 
Landing  of  the  Atlantic  Cable,”  “ The  Good  Samaritan,”  and  “Washing- 
ton receiving  his  Mother’s  Blessing.”  Most  of  his  pictures  during  his 
six  years’  residence  in  London,  were  portraits  ; his  best  genre  picture 
executed  there,  is  thus  estimated  by  the  London  Art  Journal  : 

“ Some  time  ago,  a description  was  given  in  our  columns  of  a pidture 
then  in  progress,  and  now  completed,  by  Mr.  Flagg,  the  subjedt  of  which 
is  the  story  of  Columbus  and  the  Egg.  The  incident  having  arisen  from 
a conversation  that  took  place  at  a dinner  given  by  the  Cardinal  Gonzales, 
Columbus  appears  at  the  table  with  the  egg  before  him,  and  the  Cardinal  by 
his  side  looking  intensely  at  the  simple  solution  of  the  question.  We  see 
at  once  in  this  picture  a deference  to  the  principles  of  the  Venetian  school ; 
it  is  generally  low  in  tone,  but  rich  and  harmonious  in  color,  and  the  heads 
are  distinguished  by  much  nobility  of  charadter.  Hawthorne’s  “ Scarlet 
Letter  ” also  has  supplied  Mr.  Flagg  with  a subjedt  rendered  by  a single 
figure, — that  of  the  unhappy  heroine  who  appears  to  be  nerving  herself  to 
meet  the  public  scorn.  “ Haidee  ” is  another  subjedt  treated  by  this  artist, 
a single  figure  painted  with  much  tenderness.  Mr.  Flagg  has  in  early 


408 


American  Artist  Life. 

life  studied  with  profit  the  great  Italian  masters,  and  is  still  faithful  in  his 
allegiance  to  them.” 

A younger  brother  of  George  was  born  in  New  Haven,  Ct,  June  1 6th, 
i8ao;  at  the  age  of  thirteen  he  commenced  practice  in  drawing,  with  a 
view  to  become  a portrait-painter  ; and,  for  six  months, 

Jared  B.  Flagg,  studied  in  his  brother’s  atelier  ; he  also  received  some 
instruction  from  his  uncle,  Washington  Allston.  At 
the  age  of  sixteen  he  exhibited  in  the  National  Academy  a portrait 
of  his  father,  which  was  highly  approved  ; removing  to  Hartford,  he 
executed  many  portraits  and  a few  ideal  pictures ; in  1849  went 
to  New  York,  and,  the  next  year,  exhibited  his  “Angelo  and  Isabella,” 
from  Shakespeare’s  “ Measure  for  Measure  ; ” it  secured  his  election 
as  an  Academician.  In  1854  Mr.  Flagg  completed  a preparatory  course  of 
theological  studies,  and  was  ordained  deacon  in  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
church.  Since  then  he  has  filled  several  pulpits — having  been  for  some 
years  redtor  of  Grace  Church,  Brooklyn,  L.  I.,  and  now  being  connected 
with  a New  Haven  parish.  During  his  ministry,  he  has  found  time  to 
continue,  with  success,  his  art-practice  ; his  portraits  have  been  numerous, 
and  some  of  them  excellent : his  last  ideal  pidture  proved  quite  a favorite  ; 
it  is  called  “Grandfather’s  Pet.”  Recently  Mr.  Flagg’s  knowledge  of,  and 
interest  in  art,  have  been  auspiciously  enlisted  in  the  arrangement  and 
inauguration  of  the  Yale  Art  Gallery. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  examples  of  special  artistic  ability,  devel- 
oped in  a limited  way,  and  for  a brief  period,  yet  suggestive  of  the  highest 
excellence,  is  that  of  Richard  Caton  Woodville,  of  Bal- 
Woodville.  timore,  Md.  ; a graduate  of  St.  Mary’s  College,  and  of 
eminent  lineage.  He  was  first  known  to  the  American 
public,  as  a painter,  by  a little  pidture  of  very  humble  pretensions,  as 
regards  subject,  but  bearing  indications  of  decided  executive  ability. 
It  was  the  interior  of  a bar-room  with  two  vulgar  habitues  seated 
therein.  The  young  artist  had  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  familiarity  with 
what,  at  the  time,  was  one  of  the  choicest  private  galleries  in  the 
country — that  of  the  late  Robert  Gilmore,  of  Baltimore  ; and  perhaps 
he  was  induced  to  try  his  hand  at  painting  by  the  specimens  of  the 
Flemish  school  thus  open  to  his  examination  : but  art  was  not  then  con- 
sidered a desirable  pursuit,  and  young  Woodville’s  family  and  associations 
yielded  him  little  encouragement.  The  immediate  sale,  however,  of  his 
first  attempt  seemed  to  justify  the  vocation  ; although  the  little  pidture  was 
bought  rather  to  aid  a promising  beginner,  than  because  of  any  intrinsic 
attradlion.  Woodville  soon  went  to  Germany,  and  studied  at  Dussel- 
dorf,  where  the  teachings  of  Lessing  were  of  great  advantage,  although 
he  was  the  immediate  pupil  of  another  professor.  He  sent  to  the  New 
York  Art-Union,  in  1847,  “The  Card-Players,”  which  was  engraved;  the 
next  year  came  “The  Cavalier’s  Return,”  and  “Mexican  News.”  But 
the  pidture  which  made  the  greatest  impression,  and,  in  fadt,  established 
Woodville’s  claim  to  high  finish  and  executive  ability,  was  “A  Man 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters  409 

Holding  a Book  ; ” it  was  justly  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  real  pictures 
which  had  emanated  from  a native  hand.  “Old  76 ’’and  “Young  48” 
were  also  engraved  by  the  New  York  Art-Union  ; “ The  Game  of  Chess,” 
painted  in  1850,  added  to  his  fame  ; the  fine  work  and  characteristic  ex- 
pression herein  displayed  showed  a remarkable  maturity  of  skill.  Goupil 
& Co.  lithographed  “ The  Politicians,”  another  clever  work.  With  all  the 
promise  and  fruition  manifest  in  these  paintings,  the  artist’s  career  was 
as  brief  as  it  was  brilliant.  His  end  was  melancholy,  and  adds  to  the 
tragedies  of  artist-life.  He  left  Dusseldorf  in  1850,  for  Paris,  where  he 
spent  several  weeks,  and  then  returned  home  ; revisiting  Europe  in  Sep- 
tember of  the  same  year,  he  passed  a year  and  a half  at  the  French  capital  ; 
another  brief  visit  to  his  own  country,  and  nearly  two  years  in  London, 
completed  his  short  life,  which  ended  in  the  latter  city,  on  the  13th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1855.  The  memory  of  Woodville  was  pleasantly  revived  in  New 
York,  within  a few  months,  by  the  exhibition  and  sale  of  the  three  pictures 
which  he  left  undisposed  of  at  his  death,  and  which  the  exigencies  of  the 
war  for  the  Union  obliged  his  relatives  in  Baltimore  to  offer  for  sale. 
Those  previously  unacquainted  with  his  remarkable  promise  and  success- 
ful performance,  and  who  have  been  accustomed  to  look  for  high  finish  and 
effective  expression  in  this  species  o i genre  painting,  almost  exclusively  to 
foreign  artists,  were  surprised  to  see  such  }:>ower  of  execution  and  effect- 
iveness of  details  as  are  evident  in  “Waiting  for  the  Stage,”  and  “The 
Sailor’s  Wedding,”  painted  by  an  American  artist  so  many  years  ago.  It 
is  frequently  said  of  Woodville,  “ He  lived  before  his  time  ; ” and,  doubt- 
less, with  the  present  love  of  the  familiar  and  the  highly  finished  in  art, 
and  the  prevalent  sympathy  for  the  better  class  of  American  artists,  such 
a native  painter  as  this,  were  he  now  living,  would  receive  memorable 
encouragement  and  flattering  recognition.  His  sphere  was  not  a high  one, 
but  therein  he  was  evidently  a master  ; in  homely  truth  and  faithful  char- 
acterization, he  reminds  us  of  Wilkie.  Besides  the  two  remarkable  pic- 
tures mentioned,  a vigorous,  strongly  modelled,  and  admirably  colored 
head  was  also  exhibited — indicative  of  singular  artistic  force  and  skill,  and 
so  mature  in  tone  and  expression,  as  to  rival  the  old  masters  in  this  de- 
partment ; it  is  the  portrait  of  an  old  Waterloo  drummer.  The  blending 
of  patient  manipulation  with  distinCt  and  individual  expression,  the  signifi- 
cant details  and  the  unity  of  conception  in  the  genre  pictures  of  Wood- 
ville, suggest  to  the  experienced  observer  the  highest  aptitude  for  that 
kind  of  art  in  which  the  best  Flemish  painters  excelled  ; and  one 
cannot  but  regret  that  an  artist  so  disciplined  and  dexterous,  had  not  lived 
to  delineate  the  characteristic  scenes  in  American  life.  A recent  critic 
thus  describes  the  “Sailor’s  Wedding”  : — 

“It  represents  the  office  of  a Justice  of  the  Peace  in  Baltimore,  who  is 
interrupted,  just  as  he  is  being  served  with  his  luncheon,  by  a party  con- 
sisting of  a stalwart  sailor  and  his  modest  little  rose-bud  of  a sweetheart, 
with  the  groom’s  next  man,  his  old  father  and  mother,  and  a single  brides- 
maid. The  groom’s  man,  with  an  overpowering  politeness,  points  with  his 


4io 


American  Artist  Life. 


gloved  hand  to  the  couple,  and  informs  the  judge  that  they  are  in  imme- 
diate need  of  his  services  to  splice  them  in  a true-lover’s  knot  ; while  the 
judge  himself,  by  no  means  pleased  at  the  interruption,  seems  to  hesitate 
as  to  whether  he  will  splice  them  and  be  done  with  it,  or  make  them  wait 
until  he  has  finished  his  luncheon.  Meanwhile,  the  old  black  servant  con- 
tinues her  preparations  for  the  Squire’s  meal,  kneeling  on  the  floor  and  tak- 
ing the  good  things  out  of  the  ample  basket,  while  the  little  daughter,  who 
was  just  setting  a jar  of  pickles  on  the  broad  window-sill,  stands  with  it  in 
her  hands  forgetful,  absorbed  in  delighted  wonder  at  the  smart  appearance 
of  the  bride.  That  pretty  creature  is  dressed  in  a white  muslin  gown  of  a 
rather  scrimped  pattern,  with  deep  tucks  in  the  skirt,  a waist  of  preternatu- 
ral length,  and  long  sleeves,  with  white  cotton  gloves.  Her  hair  is  neatly 
arranged,  with  a white  rose  among  the  braids,  and  she  is  most  delightfully 
sheep-faced  and  prettily  modes’t,  and  would  tremble  if  she  did  not  have 
hold  of  that  mighty  Jack’s  arm,  who  looks  as  scrubbed,  and  brushed,  and 
proud,  and  good-natured,  as  an  American  sailor  should,  especially  when  he 
is  goin^  to  be  married. 

“To  study  the  people  in  this  little  drama  is  a satisfying  pleasure,  for, 
without  exaggeration  or  apparent  effort,  they  are  true  to  simple  nature. 
And  it  shows  how  much  of  an  artist  Woodville  really  was,  that  although 
the  minuteness  of  its  details  is  extraordinary,  yet  the  eye  is  long  in  com- 
ing to  perceive  how  fine  the  work  is  ; but  is  taken,  first  of  all,  with  the 
story,  and  with  the  way  in  which  it  is  told,  and  the  play  of  character  ; and  then 
is  pleased  with  the  breadth  and  largeness  of  the  treatment ; and,  little  by 
little,  begins  to  find  out  what  a wonder  of  patient  minuteness  and  truth 
this  small  canvas  really  is.  For  there  is  nothing  in  this  room  that  is 
not  finished  as  with  a microscope,  and  yet  with  such  freedom  as  to  re- 
deem the  execution  from  all  charge  of  pettiness  or  niggling.  To  go  over 
the  whole  catalogue  of  details  would  be  wearisome — from  the  Franklin 
Almanac  pasted  on  the  side  of  the  bookcase — too  much  paste  having 
been  used,  the  superfluity  was  smeared  over  the  wood — to  the  old  hair- 
trunk,  filled  with  bundles  of  papers,  which  the  judge  has  been  examining  ; 
from  the  pattern  on  the  old  negro  woman’s  gown  or  that  on  her  child’s 
apron — and  while  you  are  looking  at  her  apron,  look  at  her  hair — to  the 
embossed  ornament  on  the  spittoon,  or  the  figure  on  the  oil-cloth  ; every- 
thing is  painted  with  an  absolute  perfection,  true  to  nature  at  once  in  its 
delicacy  and  in  its  effeCt.” 

Ilis  “ Bar-Room  Interior”  belongs  to  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.,  the  original 
purchaser;  the  “ Card-Players  ” is  in  the  possession  of  W.  J.  Hoppin, 
Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “ The  Cavalier’s  Return  ” belongs  to  Col.  Andrew 
Warner;  “ Mexican  News,”  to  M.  O.  Roberts,  Esq.  ; “ Head  of  a Soldier,” 
to  W.  FI.  Aspinwall,  Esq.,  also  “ A Man  Holding  a Book  ; ” “ The  Game 
of  Chess  ” was  owned  by  the  late  John  Van  Buren,  also  “ Mexican  News 
“ Politicians  in  an  Oyster-House  ” belongs  to  J.  B.  Latrobe,  Esq.,  of  Bal- 
timore, Md. ; the  “ Sailor’s  Wedding”  originally  belonged  to  W.  T.  Wal- 
crs,  Esq.,  of  the  same  city;  the  head  of  the  “Waterloo  Drummer”  is  in 


Portraiture , Genre , Historical  Painters.  41 1 

the  collection  of  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  Esq. ; and  “Waiting  for  the  Stage  ” 
is  in  the  possession  of  Lucius  Tuckerman,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 

Some  of  our  readers  can  recall  the  time  when  almost  the  only  specimens 
of  humorous  every-day-life-scenes,  at  our  picture  exhibitions,  were  the  pro- 
duction of  a Bank  cashier  : the  subjects  were  homely,  with 
a certain  naive  literalness  that  commended  them  to  aver-  Edmonds, 
age  taste  : in  this  characteristic  manner  was  genre  paint- 
ing introduced  to  the  masses.  Coarse  but  clever  as  are  these  pioneer 

conceptions,  in  a sphere  of  art  in  which  excellence  is  so  rare  among  us, 

it  is  curious  to  revert  to  the  themes  which  then  were  popular.  The 

following  is  a list  of  the  exhibited  pictures  of  John  W.  Edmonds  : 

“ Sammy  the  Tailor  ; ” “ The  Skinner ; ” “ Dominie  Sampson  ; ” “ Ichabod 
Crane  teaching  Katrina  Van  Tassel  Psalmody  ; ” “ Comforts  of  Old  Age  ; ” 
“The  Penny  Paper,  or  Commodore  Trunnion;”  “The  City  and  Coun- 
try Beaux;”  “Sparking;”  “Italian  Mendicants;”  “The  Bashful  Cou- 
sin ; ” “ Stealing  Milk  ; ” “ Beggar’s  Petition  ; ” “ Image  Peddler  ; ” “ Sam 
Weller;”  “Vesuvius;”  “AqueduCts  at  Rome;”  “Florence;”  “Facing 
the  Enemy;”  “The  New  Scholar;”  “Lord  Glenallan  and  Espeth 
Macklebackit ; ” “Sleepy  Student;”  “Wood  Scene;”  “The  Orphan’s 
Funeral;”  “First  Earnings;”  “Trial  of  Patience;”  “The  Two  Cul- 
prits;” “Courtship  in  New  Amsterdam;”  “What  can  a Young  Lassie 
do  wi’  an  Auld  Man;”  “The  Speculator;”  “Passage  from  Burns;” 
“ Taking  the  Census  ; ” “ The  Thirsty  Drove  ; ” “ All  Talk  and  no  Work ; ” 
“Time  to  Go  ;”  “The  Windmill;”  “The  Pan  of  Milk;”  “Bargaining;” 
“ The  New  Bonnet.” 

An  ingenious  British  writer  calls  the  spirit  of  trade  the  Capua  of  the  fine 
arts,  intimating  that  the  very  luxury  incident  to  commercial  prosperity,  by 
enervating  the  mind,  limits  and  degrades  its  better  instinCts.  This  view  is, 
however,  more  applicable  to  the  author’s  own  country  than  to  general  faCt. 
The  Flemish  painters  have  thrown  a spell  of  beauty  around  the  thriving 
cities  which  mercantile  enterprise  reared,  and  the  memorable  epochs  of 
Italian  art  gave  birth  also  to  her  merchant  princes.  Instead  of  regarding 
the  spirit  of  trade  and  the  cause  of  art  as  altogether  inimical — which  in 
some  respeCts  they  doubtless  are — it  is  the  part  of  wisdom  to  endeavor  to 
render  them  mutually  serviceable.  Art  gives  intellectual,  and  benevolence 
moral  dignity  to  the  possession  of  wealth  ; and  as  civilization  advances,  the 
well-being  of  every  nation  is  more  and  more  symbolized  in  the  refinements 
of  its  architecture,  painting,  and  statuary.  One  of  our  travelling  country- 
men quaintly  observes,  that  between  a shot-tower  and  a cathedral  spire 
there  is  the  same  difference  as  between  the  society  of  a ponderous  bore 
and  a buoyant  poet.  As  communities  feel  truths  like  this,  they  generally 
blend  taste  and  industry,  and  turn  from  plodding  routine  to  the  amenities 
of  horticulture,  letters,  or  the  arts.  Such  a process  is  visibly  going  on  in 
this  country.  The  enthusiasm  for  music,  the  increased  sale  of  poetical 
works,  the  tone  of  newspaper  criticism,  and  social  intercourse,  all  evince 
this  transition  state ; and  it  is  daily  becoming  more  common  for  the  devo- 


412  American  Artist  Life. 

tees  of  gain  to  lay  their  offerings  upon  the  shrines  of  knowledge  and  of 
taste. 

We  have  some  remarkable  instances  of  the  successful  prosecution  of 
objedts  usually  deemed  incompatible  with  each  other.  Indeed,  versatility  of 
occupations  is  one  of  our  national  characteristics.  Trades  are  often  hered- 
itary in  Europe,  and  it  is  comparatively  seldom  that  any  one  exceeds  or 
diversifies  his  vocation  ; but  the  exigencies  of  life  here,  and  the  varied 
spheres  in  which  the  citizen  is  obliged  to  aCt,  give  more  flexibility  to  his 
mind,  and  perhaps  in  no  country  are  there  so  many  surprising  changes  of 
employment,  and  such  ready  adaptation  of  talent  to  circumstances.  Mr. 
Edmonds  was  a rare  example  of  this  indefatigable  spirit,  whereby  necessity 
and  inclination  are  reconciled,  and  the  barrenness  of  toilsome  detail  re- 
deemed by  a liberal  pursuit.  His  services  were  constantly  in  demand  by 
associations  and  individuals  whefi  any  respite  occurred  in  his  duties  as 
cashier  of  the  Mechanics’  Bank.  At  the  National  Academy,  as  well  as  in 
Wall  street,  Mr.  Edmonds  was  cordially  recognized,  and  proved  himself  so 
adequate  in  these  apparently  opposite  spheres,  that  the  most  exclusive 
votaries  both  of  Mammon  and  of  Art  never  questioned  his  ability.  So  jeal- 
ous was  the  painter,  however,  of  his  reputation  among  the  “hard-eyed 
lenders  and  the  pale  lendees,”  that  it  was  only  by  judicious  degrees  that 
he  permitted  his  friends  to  know  that  he  was  addicted  to  the  pencil.  His 
studio  was  for  a long  time  as  impenetrable  as  the  laboratory  of  an  alche- 
mist, and  his  pictures  were  exhibited  under  a fictitious  name.  We  may 
imagine  his  amusement  at  the  conjectures  of  the  critics,  and  his  vexation, 
on  one  occasion,  at  discovering  that  the  address  he  had  ventured  to  send, 
in  order  to  secure  the  return  of  his  works,  proved  to  be  a vacant  lot,  so 
that  the  paintings  were  left  at  a corner  grocery  ! Quite  early  in  life  he 
had  evinced  a fondness  for  drawing,  and  books  relating  to  art  were  among 
the  first  that  seriously  interested  him.  He  also  found  peculiar  satisfaction 
in  the  society  of  artists  ; but  while  quite  a lad  his  career  as  a business  man 
had  begun,  and  he  had  the  sound  judgment  to  regulate  the  gratification  of 
his  taste  in  accordance  with  more  imperious  claims.  This  was  compara- 
tively easy,  since  his  cast  of  mind  was  judicious  and  systematic,  rather  than 
sensitive,  and  his  aim  in  painting,  the  graphic,  humorous,  and  homely. 
This  tendency  led  him  to  illustrate  scenes  from  Smollett  and  Scott,  and 
give  shape  to  many  of  the  every-day  phases  of  life.  The  “Epicure,” 
“ Gil  Bias  and  the  Archbishop,”  and  the  “ Comforts  of  Old  Age,”  were 
among  the  subjects  which,  at  the  outset,  he  successfully  treated.  “The 
Penny  Paper”  may  be  considered  among  his  best  efforts.  It  cost  no  little 
study.  Almost  every  subjeCt  delineated,  even  to  the  old  shoe  that  hangs 
upon  the  wall,  is  a legitimate  imitation.  “Sparking”  is  a familiar  and 
popular  instance  of  Edmonds’  talent,  having  been  engraved  by  the  Art- 
Union.  When  proposed  as  an  associate  of  the  New  York  Academy,  the 
question  arose  whether  he  was  an  artist  or  an  amateur,  and  the  fadl  of  his 
having  sold  the  fruits  of  his  pencil  decided  his  professional  claims,  and 
secured  his  election.  His  health  having  become  impaired  from  too  con- 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  413 

stant  application,  he  sailed  for  Europe  in  the  winter  of  1840.  Before  this 
period,  it  had  been  his  custom  to  be  at  his  easel  from  sunrise  until  bank 
hours,  and  from  three  in  the  afternoon  until  dark  ; nor  is  it  surprising  that 
such  assiduity  should  have  worn  upon  the  springs  of  health.  Indeed,  to 
severe  and  constant  labor  may  be  ascribed  all  that  this  painter  effected. 
He  owed  little  to  chance  or  intuition.  He  had  not  that  kind  of  ability  which 
seizes  quickly  on  results,  but  achieved  his  ends  wholly  through  methodical 
industry,  a principle  not  so  effective  in  art  as  finance.  Abroad,  Mr.  Edmonds 
visited  and  carefully  observed  the  principal  collections.  He  fell  in  with 
several  countrymen  attached  to  the  same  pursuits,  and  among  the  delight- 
ful episodes  of  his  tour,  remembered  with  peculiar  and  vivid  satisfaction  a 
sketching  excursion  made  with  a party  of  artists,  among  whom  was  Durand, 
to  Amalfi,  Capri,  and  Salerno.  After  his  return,  he  exhibited  among  othei 
pictures, “ The  Bashful  Cousin,”  “Boy  Stealing  Milk,”  “ The  Beggar’s  Peti- 
tion,” “ The  New  Scholar,”  and  “ Facing  the  Enemy  ” — a popular  illustra- 
tion of  the  temperance  reform.  His  business  talents  were  also  successfully 
enlisted  in  behalf  of  the  Art-Union,  originally  called  the  Apollo — an  insti- 
tution at  one  time  on  the  decline,  but,  through  the  exertions  of  Mr.  Ed- 
monds and  his  coadjutors,  soon  in  the  full  tide  of  usefulness. 

This  brief  statement  is  an  encouraging  proof  of  what  may  be  accom- 
plished by  one  who  really  loves  a tasteful  objeCt,  and  with  ideal  aptitudes 
even  in  the  face  of  that  eager  devotion  to  mere  physical  good  with  which 
our  nation  is  reproached.  More  than  one  of  our  poets  have  exemplified  the 
same  truth  in  regard  to  literature,  and  a few  more  instances  of  the  same 
kind  will  do  more  than  a volume  of  reasoning  to  quell  the  absurd  prejudice 
which  holds  it  impossible  for  a man  to  play  the  flute,  turn  a stanza,  or  exe- 
cute a picture,  and,  at  the  same  time,  be  dexterous  and  thrifty  in  affairs. 
Thus  the  war  between  utility  and  beauty,  the  ideal  and  the  practical,  will 
gradually  subside.  It  will  at  length  be  acknowledged  that  the  human  mind 
is  capable  of  a twofold  coincident  development,  and  that  prudence  and  im- 
agination may  amicably  inspire  together.  Thus  the  arid  face  of  society  will 
be  fertilized,  and  an  element  of  cheerfulness  and  grace  be  woven  into  the 
web  of  existence  to  redeem  and  brighten  its  monotonous  hues.  Similar 
causes  for  a long  time  opposed  the  progress  of  artistic  culture  in  England. 
Half  a century  ago,  an  able  advocate*  of  the  fine  arts  there,  deemed  it 
necessary  to  plead  the  argument  of  utility,  and  point  out  the  influence  of 
design  upon  manufactures,  tracing  the  effecl  of  high  art  in  the  beautiful 
models  of  Wedgewood,  and  the  patterns  of  stuffs,  furniture,  tapestry,  and 
china,  thereby  bringing  home  to  the  plain  common-sense  of  the  Saxon 
mind,  that  important  series  of  causes  and  effeCts  by  which  a principle  of 
truth  or  beauty  infuses  itself  through  the  whole  range  of  social  wants,  from 
the  highest  demand  of  imagination  to  the  most  common  of  domestic  neces- 
sities. There  is,  it  has  been  truly  said,  an  affinity  between  all  works  that 
are  beneficial  to  mankind.  The  diamond  and  charcoal  have  been  proved 
by  science  to  be  identical  ; and  much  of  what  is  apparently  incompatible 


* Prince  Hoare. 


4T4 


American  Artist  Life. 


in  human  pursuits,  arises  from  the  limited  view  in  which  they  are  regarded, 
or  the  narrowness  of  spirit  and  want  of  character  with  which  they  are  fol- 
lowed. 

Edmonds  was  the  son  of  General  Samuel  Edmonds.  Born  in  Hudson, 
N.  Y.,  Nov.  22,  1806,  he  was  a bank  clerk  there  until  1830,  and  at  the  age 
of  twenty-four  became  cashier  of  the  Hudson  River  Bank  in  his  native 
town;  in  1834  he  was  appointed  to  the  same  office  in  the  New  York 
Leather  Manufacturers’  Bank,  and  in  1839  was  chosen  cashier  of  the  Me- 
chanics’ Bank;  in  1855  retired  to  a country  home  on  the  Bronx  river, 
and  died  there  a few  years  since.  His  “ Bashful  Cousin”  and  “ Boy  Steal- 
ing Milk”  belong  to  Jonathan  Sturges,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  his  “Image 
Peddler,”  “Windmill,”  and  “ Bargaining  ” to  R.  L.  Stuart,  Esq.;  “Dame 
in  the  Kitchen”  to  S.  L.  Claghorn,  Escp,  and  “Gil  Bias  and  the  Arch- 
bishop” to  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  £lsq. 

It  is  generally  conceded  that  Raphael  sought  the  triumph  of  his  art  in 
expression,  Correggio  in  the  effects  of  light  and  shade,  and  Titian  in  color — 
not  that  these  were  the  exclusive  objedls  of  each,  or  con- 
Freeman.  stitute  their  only  title  to  fame,  but  that  they  severally  pur- 
sued truth  with  peculiar  relish  and  success  through  these 
different  means.  If  we  admit  these  distinctions,  it  is  easy  to  account 
for  the  superior  rank  claimed  for  Raphael,  since  there  can  be  no  ques- 
tion that  to  produce  the  greatest  effects  in  art  chiefly  by  means  of  ex- 
pression, is  to  achieve  the  highest  victory.  There  is  more  or  less  of 
illusion  in  every  other  process,  and  a reliance  upon  ingenuity  rather  than 
genius.  The  same  is  true  in  literature,  whose  most  enduring  monu- 
ments owe  their  vitality  to  the  richness  of  the  thought  or  image,  and  not  to 
the  perfection  of  the  style.  Racine’s  dramas  boast  a more  sustained  unity 
and  elegance  than  Shakespeare’s,  and  yet  have  no  hold  upon  the  permanent 
interests  of  men.  Expression  is  the  very  soul  of  Art.  It  consists  in  seiz- 
ing upon  the  most  subtle  of  nature’s  phases  and  fixing  it  in  marble  or  upon 
canvas — even  as  the  great  dramatist  has  stamped  certain  traits  of  human- 
ity upon  his  page  for  ever.  The  sentiment  of  devotion,  as  it  beams  in  the 
upturned  face  of  St.  Cecilia,  or  the  holiness  of  maternity,  as  it  rests  on  the 
lips  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  Madonna  della  Sedula,  are,  in  like  manner,  rep- 
resented with  an  integrity  that  endears  them  to  all  the  world.  It  is, 
therefore,  an  evidence  of  loftier  intelligence  in  an  artist  to  aim  principally 
at  expression.  Unfortunately,  many  artists  lack  self-knowledge  as  to  their 
appropriate  sphere  of  expression.  This  was  a great  fault  in  West.  He 
habitually  selected  the  grandest  and  most  sacred  themes,  and  brought  to 
their  illustration  skill  in  drapery,  grouping,  and  mechanical  detail,  without 
any  commensurate  reach  of  mind  and  sympathy  in  the  subjedl.  It  is  no 
small  part  of  wisdom  to  understand  one’s  province  of  abtion.  The  example 
of  the  old  masters  is  too  much  followed  in  the  choice  of  subjects.  Perhaps 
the  rarest  of  all  adaptation  is  that  for  religious  art,  and  not  a few  failures 
are  to  be  ascribed  to  a want  of  courage  in  following  out  individual  ten- 
dencies. It  is  equally  meritorious,  in  the  abstract,  to  make  a good  picture 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  415 

of  a peasant  as  of  a saint,  the  important  point  being  intrinsic  excellence. 
An  artist’s  subjeCt  should  spring  from  his  natural  powers,  and  not  from 
external  dictation.  He  certainly  cannot  deal  successfully  with  expression, 
unless  at  home  with  the  idea  or  feeling  to  be  expressed  ; and  this  depends 
more  upon  character  than  imitation. 

Among  those  of  our  artists  who  have  decided  genius  for  expression  is 
Freeman.  At  a very  early  age  he  was  brought  by  his  parents  from  Nova 
Scotia  to  Otsego.  Through  many  difficulties  and  hardships  he  made  his 
way  to  New  York,  to  gain  instruction  in  the  art  he  loved  ; entered  as  a stu- 
dent the  National  Academy,  and  soon  gained  the  honor  of  membership. 
Inman,  whose  appreciation  of  dawning  merit  was  as  quick  as  his  expres- 
sion of  it  was  frank  and  ardent,  was  among  the  first  to  acknowledge  the 
youth’s  promise.  He  was  attracted  by  the  head  of  an  old  revolutionary 
soldier,  whom  Freeman  had  hired  as  a model,  and  declared  he  should  be 
proud  to  have  painted  it.  In  Cooper’s  novel  of  the  Pioneers,  there  is  a 
graphic  description  of  the  family  mansion  of  the  author’s  progenitors,  in  the 
western  part  of  this  State.  Freeman  occupied  as  a studio  the  identical 
building  for  more  than  one  winter.  He,  however,  has  resided  for  some 
years  past  in  Italy,  and  there  studied  his  profession  with  a devotion  and 
independence  rarely  equalled.  Of  this,  adequate  proof  may  be  drawn  from 
his  conversation.  He  may  have  prejudices,  but  he  also  has  arrived  by  ob- 
servation and  thought  to  the  dignity  of  opinions.  Perhaps  his  tastes  are 
too  exclusive  to  be  generally  followed,  but  they  are  based  upon  no  tem- 
porary arguments  or  limited  experience.  His  standard  is  exacting,  and 
his  philosophy  just.  The  principles  upon  which  he  views  art  and  endeavors 
to  win  her  laurels,  are  of  a character  to  obtain  the  respeCt  of  those  who 
regard  the  subjeCt  from  an  intelligent  point  of  view.  Few  of  our 
artists  are  better  informed  as  to  the  essential  grounds  of  their  profession, 
and  few  of  them  have  such  authority  for  their  pursuit.  We  can  say  of 
Freeman  with  perfect  confidence — what  cannot  by  any  means  be  declared 
of  the  majority  who  paint  and  model — that  he  is  an  artist  both  from  educa- 
tion and  native  endowments.  With  this  conviction  we  parted  from  him, 
on  his  last  departure  for  Rome,  with  sincere  regret,  and  a renewed  belief 
that  what  is  called  success,  both  in  art  and  literature,  in  this  country,  has 
little  necessary  connection  with  merit.  A shrewd  copyist  or  mechanical 
draughtsman,  who  knows  how  to 

“ Crook  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee 
That  thrift  may  follow  fawning 


who  can  stoop  to  court  the  wealthy  and  ignorant  visitors  of  the  u city  of 
the  soul,”  may  obtain  commissions  to  his  heart’s  content  ; but  the  man  of 
genius,  whose  very  nature  unfits  him  for  resorting  to  any  extraneous  meas- 
ures to  secure  patronage,  who  relies  simply  on  his  art,  and  the  appre- 
ciation of  his  countrymen  ; — waiting  as  it  becomes  him,  to  be  recognized, 
and  scorning  the  appliances  of  the  charlatan,  is  likely  to  starve  by  negleCt. 
His  fame  is  apt  to  be  altogether  posthumous  ; late  honors  are  yielded  in  the 


4i  6 


American  Artist  Life. 


place  of  that  living  sympathy  for  which  he  pined  ; and,  instead  of  the  grati- 
fying spectacle  of  his  aCtual  and  conscious  prosperity,  we  are  too  often  di- 
rected to  his  monument,  and  obliged  to  confess  that  he  asked  for  bread, 
and  received  a stone. 

Before  Freeman  went  abroad,  he  painted  an  Indian  girl  of  rare  beauty. 
The  piCture  was  greatly  admired,  and  is  highly  prized  by  its  owner.  There 
is  something  in  the  manner  and  execution  of  the  portrait  quite  unique.  It 
is  the  best  representation  of  an  aboriginal  female  we  have  ever  seen.  To 
a European  collection  it  would  be  invaluable,  and  no  one  with  a particle  of 
imagination  can  look  upon  it  without  interest.  The  peculiar  complexion, 
and  a certain  blending  of  tenderness  and  fire  in  the  countenance — to  say 
nothing  of  the  flowing  hair— convey  at  once  a romantic  impression.  The 
rich  arterial  blood  seems  to  glow  through  the  olive  skin  with  a truthful 
vitality,  and  the  dark  eyes  and  expressive  lips  whisper  some  hidden  and 
winsome  revelation.  Nor  is  this  surmise  erroneous.  The  girl  was  a cele- 
brated beauty,  and  a story  of  no  ordinary  romance  belongs  to  her  name. 
It  is  very  seldom  that  a portrait  combines  so  many  associations,  and  though 
among  the  earliest  of  the  artist’s  productions,  it  is  one  at  which  he  evi- 
dently wrought  with  earnestness,  and  consequent  success. 

The  picture  by  which  Freeman  is  best  known  is  “ The  Beggars.”  It 
was  the  gem  of  the  exhibition,  a few  years  since.  The  composition  is 
simple,  but  remarkably  felicitous,  consisting  of  one  erect  and  one  sleeping 
figure  ; but  the  attitudes,  the  atmosphere,  the  execution,  the  finish,  and 
above  all,  the  expression,  are  in  the  highest  degree  artistic  and  suggestive. 
We  doubt  if  any  one  who  has  never  visited  the  south  of  Europe  could 
thoroughly  estimate  the  work,  as  a delineation  of  nature.  To  such  as  are 
familiar  with  those  regions,  it  is  singularly  eloquent.  The  pleading, 
datemi-qualchecosa  look  of  the  standing  boy,  is  more  significant  than  the 
rags  in  which  he  is  clothed,  and  the  bare  extended  arm.  The  face  of  the 
sleeper  is  calm — a beggar  in  attire,  but  a happy  child  in  reality — happy  in 
the  noonday  repose  of  that  soft  clime,  the  eager  lines  of  importunity  and 
want  softened  by  the  careless  spirit, 

“ Folded  alike  from  sunshine  and  from  rain, 

As  if  a rose  should  shut,  and  be  a bud  again.” 

This  picture  is  an  epitome  of  Italy,  of  her  poverty  and  her  clime —her 
balmy  nature  and  her  degraded  humanity — her  urbane  spirit  and  narrow 
destiny.  It  carries  one  at  once  to  the  Piazza  d’Espagna  steps  and  the 
Colosseum.  Its  elaborate,  highly-finished,  and  thorough  execution  is  worthy 
of  a master.  There  is  a fine  relievo  effeCt  in  the  countenances,  that  makes 
them  seem  palpable.  In  this,  as  in  other  of  Freeman’s  works,  we  are  struck 
with  the  amount  of  study  it  will  bear.  There  is  nothing  evasive  or  tame, 
but  all  is  well  thought  and  worked  out.  We  feel  that  it  was  made  to  last 
and  to  contemplate,  to  impart  ideas,  waken  the  fancy,  and  yield  permanent 
satisfaction.  This  artist  paints  like  a man  who  has  breathed  a calmer  air 
than  our  own,  and  grown  familiar  with  labors  that  cost  years  of  toil.  There 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  417 

* 

are  few  marks  of  haste,  of  that  compromising  spirit,  so  fatal  to  the  endur- 
ing value  of  a work  of  art,  which  renders  abortive  some  of  the  best  con- 
ceptions of  our  artists.  Freeman  has  never  ceased  to  be  a student.  There 
is  an  intensity  in  his  aims  and  habits  ; he  has  more  vigor  than  delicacy. 
He  appears  to  understand  clearly  his  objedt,  and  to  pursue  it  without  diver- 
sion. Every  one  of  his  pictures  we  have  seen,  remains  in  our  memory — a 
distinct  creation.  They  satisfy,  instead  of  perplexing  us.  Two  executed 
during  a visit  to  America,  displayed  the  same  characteristics.  One  was 
a child,  whose  sun-burnt  face  and  elfin  locks  furnished  an  excellent  basis 
for  a rural  witch.  But  Freeman  portrayed  her  with  such  a look  of  weird 
intelligence  and  laughing  wickedness,  that  it  was  the  very  personification 
of  a gipsy.  The  expression  was  so  keen,  vivid,  and  real,  that  it  haunted 
one— so  that  the  accessories  of  a ruined  tomb,  poisonous  herbs,  and  mould- 
ering bones  were  unnecessary,  though  appropriate.  Of  quite  a different 
expression  was  “ The  Bad  Shoe” — a little  fellow  seated  in  a barn  window, 
amid  a wintry  landscape,  and  holding  his  frost-nipped  foot  pitifully  in  his 
hand,  his  chubby  face  full  of  that  pathos  born  of  early  suffering — which 
Dickens  has  so  effectively  described.  Both  of  these  are  genuine  touches 
of  nature,  caught  by  the  eye  and  transfixed  by  the  hand  of  the  artist — in  no 
careless  or  accidental  manner,  but  with  just  and  effective  labor.  Freeman 
works  slowly,  and  is  rarely  in  advance  of  his  commissions  ; he  is  not  equally 
happy  in  the  choice  of  subjects,  but  when  the  theme  is  congenial,  the  drawing, 
color,  and  expression  often  exhibit  mature  excellence.  “ The  Crusader’s 
Return  ” is  a cabinet  picture,  of  the  coldest  hue,  representing  a knight 
with  pallid  brow  and  auburn  beard,  kneeling  in  prayer  over  the  marble 
effigy  of  his  betrothed.  The  armor  is  finely  executed,  and  all  the  parts 
highly  finished.  It  is  evidently  one  of  those  experiments  to  which  genius 
is  prone,  and  intimates  no  ordinary  skill,  were  ample  scope  afforded  for  its 
deliberate  unfolding.  A later  specimen  of  his  peculiar  ability  is  the 
“ Flower  Girl  ” — a round-cheeked,  curly-headed  little  girl,  in  scarlet  tunic, 
grasping  a bunch  of  wild-flowers  and  leaning  against  an  old  wall — a simple 
theme,  but  most  ably  treated  ; — vigorous,  solid,  mellow,  expressive — it  re- 
calls the  gems  of  the  old  masters.  Another  felicitous  work— full  of  nature, 
expression,  and  technical  skill — represents  a Roman  peasant  girl  overtaken 
by  a storm  on  the  Campagna  ; she  sits  on  a rock  trying  to  hold  her  flutter- 
ing garments  about  her,  while  her  dog  crouches  by  her  side  in  dismay.  A 
late  visitor  to  his  studio  writes  from  Rome  : — 

“ I would  refer  to  the  large  picture  of  a Tuscan  peasant  gathering  grapes, 
as  a pleasing  representation  of  one  phase  of  Italian  life.  The  coloring  is 
extremely  brilliant ; the  face  is  perhaps  not  enough  idealized,  but  is  for  that 
reason  more  true  to  character  ; it  is  that  of  such  a peasant  as  the  traveller 
constantly  sees.  ‘ The  Marys  at  the  Sepulchre,’  a picture  well  conceived, 
but  inferior  in  execution  to  the  artist’s  best  manner,  is  now  about  to  be 
sent  to  America. 

“ Still  in  progress  is  a picture  suggested  by  the  well-known  passage  in 
‘ Uncle  Toby,’ — ‘ the  accusing  spirit  who  flew'  up  to  heaven  with  the  oath, 

27 


4 1 8 


American  Artist  Life. 


blushed  as  he  gave  it  in,  and  the  recording  angel,  as  he  wrote  it  down, 
dropped  a tear  upon  the  word,  and  blotted  it  out  forever.’  The  painting 
.promises  to  realize  singularly  well  the  idea  of  a parable  with  the  feel- 
ing of  which  every  one  must  be  touched,  whatever  criticism  he  may  pass 
upon  its  theology. 

“ ‘ The  Savoyard  Boy  in  London  ’ brings  Italy  and  Ireland  into  the  edge 
of  Cheapside.  In  the  background,  the  ever-rushing  crowd,  and  the  Ca- 
thedral spire  dimly  seen  through  a London  fog;  in  front,  the  Italian  boy, 
his  black  locks  drooping  over  his  ruddy  face  as  his  head  reclines  in  pro- 
found slumber,  while  a little  Irish  child,  with  the  blond  complexion  of  the 
north,  is  seated  on  the  pavement  watching  the  sleeper  with  timid  pity  and 
wonder  ; on  the  wall  above  are  placards  which  appeared  there  when  the 
war  in  America,  of  which  they,  tell,  was  raging. 

11  Still  another  unfinished  picture  of  the  ‘Fisherman’s  Wife  watching  in 
the  Storm’  appears  calculated  to  be  very  successful.  The  babe  in  the  cradle 
sleeps  tranquilly,  while  the  storm  rages  with  rising  fury.  The  hand  of  the 
mother  just  touches  its  form  with  an  instinctive  care,  while  her  looks  and 
thoughts  are  far  away  from  the  child  and  the  storm,  striving  to  reach  one 
little  bark  which  bears  life’s  best  hope. 

“ But,  in  the  judgment  of  the  writer,  the  finest  thing  in  the  studio,  and  a 
real  gem,  is  a picture  called  ‘ Young  Italy.’  It  is  a painting  of  an  Italian 
child,  so  life-like  that  it  must  be  a portrait,  so  intellectual  that  it  cannot  be 
a real  face,  just  enough  idealized.  Full  of  life  and  merriment,  yet  for  the 
moment  abashed  and  shy,  she  shades  her  eyes  with  one  chubby  hand  in  the 
attempt  to  execute  the  difficult  feat  of  seeing  you  without  having  seen  her. 
The  complexion  and  costume  are  childish  and  national,  without  being  a whit 
exaggerated,  and  the  finish  of  the  whole  is  very  complete  and  consistent.” 

Freeman’s  drawings  from  models  and  sketches  from  nature,  evidence 
long  and  various  study,  and  manifest  how  much  the  genuine  love  of  art, 
and  patient  investigation  of  its  principles,  have  occupied  his  thoughts  and 
feelings. 

His  “ Girl  and  Dog  on  the  Campagna”  belongs  to  Edmund  Miller,  Esq., 
of  New  York  ; his  fine  “ Study  of  an  Angel  ” to  C C.  Perkins,  Esq.,  of  Bos- 
ton ; other  of  his  pictures  are  in  the  possession  of  General  Dix,  Miss  Jane 
Knower,  Mr.  Satterlee,  and  J.  Tuckerman,  of  New  York  ; while  some  of 
the  best  are  owned  in  England. 

Freeman  married  a lady  of  artistic  taste  and  talent,  whose  father  was 
Italian  and  her  mother  English  ; her  brother  passed  several  years  in  and 
near  New  York,  and  died  at  Chataqua,  Westchester  county,- 
Latilla.  a few  years  since.  Soon  after  his  arrival  in  New  York,  we 
accompanied  Freeman  to  one  of  those  spacious  avenues 
projected  by  the  sagacious  counsel  of  Gouverneur  Morris,  which  redeem  this 
metropolis  ; a glance  suffices  to  convince  us  that  it  is  not  the  fashionable 
one  : a railroad-car  glides  along  the  centre  ; plain,  substantial  brick  dwell- 
ings line  the  way  ; provision,  drygoods,  grocery-shops,  form  the  basement- 
range  ; the  street,  though  broad,  has  a most  provincial  and  trading  look  ; 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  419 

even  an  old  Dutch  gable  would  be  a relief  to  the  eye  ; but  only  monotonous, 
unadorned  fronts,  and  flaunting  ells  of  woollen  and  chintz,  or  huge  quarters 
of  pork,  vary  the  perspective.  Yet  even  in  this  unpiCturesque  thorough- 
fare we  discover  an  artist.  Ring  at  that  yellow  door  where  the  plate 
is  inscribed  with  the  musical  appellative  of  Eugenio  Latilla  ; by  his 
velvet  coat  and  straggling  beard,  giving  a Vandyke  air  to  the  figure,  we 
should  know  him  anywhere  for  a painter  ; and  here  he  was  established 
in  the  Sixth  Avenue,  a man  that  had  fraternized  with  some  of  the  best 
artists  of  the  day,  ledtured  to  his  English  students,  presided  at  meetings 
of  the  British  Institution,  and  after  a long  sojourn  in  Italy,  brought  to 
the  new  world  his  versatile  ability  and  wide  experience.  He  executed 
in  Florence  a series  of  fine  linear  etchings  on  steel,  illustrative  of  the 
New  Testament,  with  the  passages  in  original  characters  of  his  own  inven- 
tion richly  illuminated.  This  elegant  volume  is  a gem  of  its  kind;  the 
heads,  figures,  and  grouping  are  in  a chaste  style,  and  abound  in  devotional 
feeling.  Fortunately  the  plates  were  retained  by  the  artist,  and  several 
copies  of  the  work  have  been  disposed  of  to  lovers  of  Christian  art  in  this 
country.  Haydon  once  addressed  a letter  to  Latilla  commencing  : “My 

dear  Fresco  Master  and  it  is  in  this  branch  that  he  excelled  ; two  houses 
in  New  York  bear  witness  to  his  superior  taste  and  execution  in  encaustic 
painting  ; and  the  wonder  is,  that  this  beautiful  method  of  decoration  is  not 
more  generally  adopted.  Fie  had  also  studied  architecture  with  much 
success,  and  planned  a modified  Gothic  remarkably  adapted  to  the  wants 
of  this  country.  As  a portrait-painter  he  had  skill  and  taste  ; witness  that 
lovely  face  over  the  fireplace  ; it  is  one  of  those  fair  and  delicate  English 
girls  who  seek  the  mild  skies  of  Italy,  and  bloom  there  in  exotic  beauty  : it 
was  painted  in  Florence  where  the  lady’s  family  reside.  Opposite  is  an 
elaborate  historical  painting,  the  subjeCt  biblical,  which  gained  the  appro- 
bation of  capital  judges  in  London.  This  artist  painted  the  portraits  of 
fifty  of  the  most  eminent  American  clergymen,  taken  from  daguerreotypes, 
of  cabinet  size,  and  intended  for  a large  engraving.  What  a fine  head  is 
that  Greek  of  Malta,  near  the  window  ! Latilla  proved  of  signal  benefit  to 
the  School  of  Design.  His  instruction  bears  fruit,  in  the  well-executed 
wood-engravings  of  the  pupils  ; his  benevolent  sympathies  as  well  as  his 
artistic  intelligence  were  enlisted  in  this  philanthropic  scheme.  He  after- 
wards devoted  himself  to  rural  architecture,  and  for  that  purpose  perma- 
nently resided  in  the  country.  All  who  are  familiar  with  the  biography  ot 
Campbell,  are  aware  of  the  poet’s  idiosyncrasy,  analogous  to  that  of  Goethe, 
a sentiment  for  childhood,  not  as  psychological  as  that  of  Wordsworth,  but 
having  all  the  character  of  an  individual  attachment.  This  beautiful  trait 
seems  quite  appropriate  to  the  author  of  the  “ Pleasures  of  Hope  ; ” it  was 
not,  however,  entirely  the  result  of  his  ideal  and  sensitive  nature,  but 
doubtless  gained  emphasis  from  his  domestic  misfortunes  ; in  the  prime  of 
life  he  was  deprived  of  those  enjoyments  which  a home  yields,  and  on 
which  his  heart  was  singularly  dependent.  One  day  Campbell  entered  the 
house  of  a friend,  and  was  instantly  magnetized  by  the  portrait  of  a child 


420 


American  Artist  Life. 


that  hung  on  the  wall  of  the  drawing-room  ; it  was  one  of  those  bright, 
winsome  faces  that  appeal  irresistibly  to  the  sense  of  beauty.  The  poet 
was  eager  in  his  inquiries  as  to  the  history  of  the  picture,  and  learned  that 
it  was  borrowed  from  the  artist,  and  a genuine  likeness  of  his  little  girl. 
He  could  not  rest  until  his  friend  promised  to  obtain  for  him  the  refusal 
of  the  work  ; then  he  desired  an  introduction  to  the  painter,  and  when  the 
portrait  became  his  own,  he  sought  the  acquaintance  of  the  beautiful  child, 
who  immediately  became  an  object  of  the  most  enthusiastic  interest ; he 
visited  her  with  the  regularity  and  the  devotion  of  a lover;  and  to  her  were 
addressed  the  ardent  “ Lines  to  a Child, in  his  poems.  The  head  that 
accompanies  them,  in  the  illustrated  edition,  is  engraved  from  the  portrait  ; 
the  painter  was  Latilla,  and  the  original  was  his  daughter,  whom  I have 
seen  by  his  fireside,  and  could  trace  the  resemblance  clearly  in  the  eyes. 
She  became  the  fair  bride  of  a clergyman,  and  her  early  death  was  much 
lamented.  Freeman’s  wife,  Latilla’s  sister,  and  also  his  daughter  are 
artistically  gifted — the  former  in  plastic,  and  the  latter  in  pictorial  art. 

One  of  the  first  American  painters  to  do  justice  to  the  humorous  and 
genial  phase  of  the  negro  character,  was  William  S.  Mount.  As  an  acces- 
sory to  the  rural  scenes  of  Long  Island,  the  artist’s  home 
Mount.  — an  old  and  quaint  or  young  and  funny  African,  forms 

a significant  figure  ; whether  fiddling  in  the  barn  or  rest- 
lessly turning  about  his  ebon  pate  when  asleep  on  the  hay  and  tickled  with 
a straw  by  the  mischievous  farmer,  so  expressive  and  well-wrought  are 
these  pleasant  local  compositions,  that  several  of  them  have  enjoyed  a wide 
popularity,  and  been  circulated  in  the  shape  of  lithographs  and  engravings. 

The  two  brothers — H.  S.  Shepherd  and  William  Sidney — sons  of  a 
thrifty  farmer  of  Setauket,  L.  I.,  first  adventured  in  sign-painting,  but  by  mu- 
tual emulation,  soon  transcended  its  limits.  William  painted  a good  por- 
trait of  himself  in  1828,  and  the  next  year  was  professionally  occupied 
in  New  York.  His  first  composition  was  “The  Daughter  of  Jairus  his 
full-length  portrait  of  Bishop  Onderdonk,  and  many  clever  portraits  of 
children,  gained  him  reputation  ; but  working  in  the  city  affebted  his  health, 
and  when  he  exhibited  “Husking  Corn,”  his  special  talent  for  genre  art 
was  recognized,  and  Allston  advised  his  studying  Ostade  and  Teniers  ; and 
in  that  field,  especially  its  humorous  phase,  he  has  given  some  notable 
illustrations.  Of  late  years  he  has  exhibited  little,  and  has  resided  at  his 
Long  Island  home.  A pleasant  mention  of  his  life  there  is  thus  noted  : 

“ William  S.  Mount,  the  comic  painter  of  American  life,  has  provided 
himself,  at  his  residence  in  the  country,  with  a movable  studio.  It  can 
be  drawn  from  place  to  place  on  wheels  by  a pair  of  horses,  and  when 
stationary,  can  be  turned  about  from  one  point  of  view  to  another,  so  as  to 
allow  the  artist,  sitting  comfortably  within,  to  make,  not  merely  sketches, 
but  the  most  deliberate  and  finished  studies  from  nature.  On  one  side  of 
the  room  the  wall  is  formed  by  a large  parallelogram  of  strong  plate- 
glass,  like  those  used  in  the  more  sumptuous  shops  in  Broadway,  but  of 
the  most  perfebt  and  aerial  transparency,  and  through  this  the  artist  has 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters . 421 

his  view  of  the  objects  he  chooses  to  delineate.  Within  is  every  conve- 
nience which  the  painter  requires — easels,  tables,  drawers  for  the  paints, 
and  a stove  for  keeping  the  room  warm  in  cold  weather.  The  ventilation 
of  the  room  is  also  provided  for.  By  means  of  the  accommodation  afforded 
by  this  studio  a winter  landscape  may  be  transferred  to  the  canvas,  at 
the  artist’s  perfedt  leisure,  when  the  mercury  in  Fahrenheit’s  thermometer 
is  below  zero.” 

Very  expressive  and  clever  are  Mount’s  happy  delineations  of  the  arch, 
quaint,  gay,  and  rustic  humors  seen  among  the  primitive  people  of  his 
native  place  ; they  are  truly  American.  His  “ Farmer’s  Nooning,”  “ Wring- 
ing the  Pigs,”  and  “Turning  the  Grindstone,”  belong  to  Jonathan  Sturgis, 
Esq.;  “Boys  Gambling  in  a Barn,”  to  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.  ; “Turn  of 
the  Leaf,”  to  James  Lenox,  Esq.  ; “ Bargaining  for  a Horse,”  to  the  New 
York  Historical  Society  ; “ Raffling  for  a Goose,”  to  M.  O.  Roberts,  Esq.  ; 
his  “ Dance  of  the  Haymakers  ” was  sold  at  the  Wolfe  sale  to  J.  T.  San- 
ford, Esq.,  for  five  hundred  dollars. 

There  has  not  been  wanting  among  us  one  of  those  artists  who  delight 
in  the  battle-scenes  and  spirited  equestrian  dramas  for  which  Salvator  was 
renowned.  Among  the  topographical  draughtsmen  of 
our  Coast  Survey  and  Fortification  Service,  under  Tal-  Glass, 

cot  & Cullum,  was  a generous  and  frank,  as  well  as 
energetic  and  accomplished,  young  man,  whose  mother  was  a Virginian, 
married  to  an  English  merchant,  who  for  several  years  was  British 
Consul  at  Lisbon  and  Cadiz,  in  which  latter  city  their  son,  James  W. 
Glass,  was  born.  Perhaps  the  combination  in  his  blood  of  two  races, 
among  whom  the  best  horses  are  bred  and  the  chase  a favorite  pastime, 
may  partly  account  for  his  passion  for  this  noble  animal  as  a subject  of 
study  and  delineation.  The  use  of  his  pencil,  as  an  engineer,  led  him  to 
desire  an  artistic  career;  and,  in  1845,  be  became  a pupil  of  Huntington, 
in  New  York;  after  two  years  of  practice  he  embarked  for  England,  to 
join  his  mother  and  sister  ; and  commenced  in  London  the  earnest  study 
of  the  special  branch  of  his  profession  to  which  he  was  drawn  by  taste 
and  temperament.  After  residing  a while  at  Kensington,  he  established 
himself  among  the  artists  in  Newman  street,  entered  their  Life  and  Cos- 
tume Academy,  and  exhibited  a pidture  at  the  British  Institution,  in  1850, 
which  was  purchased  by  an  eminent  amateur  the  very  day  it  first  appeared. 
His  next  pidture  was  the  “Duke  of  Wellington  on  Horseback.”  When 
Glass  first  applied  to  the  Duke,  his  proposal  was  very  coolly  received  ; like 
other  famous  men,  that  nobleman  was  weary  of  sitting  for  his  portrait : 
“ How  long  do  you  want  me  ? ” he  asked.  “ Half  an  hour,”  was  the  artist’s 
reply.  The  Duke  doubted  if  that  would  suffice,  but  consented  to  sit ; in 
twenty  minutes  Glass  had  made  a spirited  sketch  of  his  head.  This  so 
mollified  his  sitter,  that  he  offered  to  comply  with  any  wish  of  the  artist, 
who,  thereupon,  asked  for  another  sitting,  and  to  see  the  Duke’s  horse. 
Having  a fair  chance  thus  to  study  his  subjedt,  he  made  so  clever  a pidture 
of  Wellington  coming  out  of  the  Horse  Guards,  with  his  servant,  that  the 


422 


American  Artist  Life. 


Royal  Family  desired  a copy  ; it  was  exhibited  with  success,  was  declared 
by  some  the  best  portrait  ever  taken  of  the  Duke,  and  was  finally  pur- 
chased by  Lord  Ellesmere.  He  had  seized  a popular  subject  in  this  work, 
significantly  entitled,  “ The  Last  Return  from  Duty,”  and  he  received  com- 
missions from  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland,  and  others.  Meantime,  and 
previously,  his  promise  in  America  had  been  amply  recognized  ; and,  as  a 
painter  of  horses  and  battle-scenes,  he  was  justly  regarded  as  a leading 
artist.  His  “Royal  Standard,”  “Free  Companion,”  “Edge  Hill,”  “Puri- 
tan and  Cavalier,”  and  other  similar  illustrations  of  war  and  history,  are 
familiar  and  memorable.  There  was  a remarkable  vitality  and  spirit  in  the 
conceptions  of  Glass  ; some  of  his  hand-to-hand  encounters  of  mounted 
soldiers,  compare  favorably  with  the  most  famous  exemplars  in  this  de- 
partment of  genre  and  historical  painting;  and  when,  in  1856,  he  returned 
to  New  York,  he  was  most  cordially  welcomed,  as  a successful  man  in  his 
own  chosen  sphere,  and  as  one  destined  to  add  new  and  special  distinction 
to  American  art. 

Betrothed  for  several  years  to  an  accomplished  lady — his  marriage  re- 
peatedly deferred  on  account  of  his  limited  means — after  years  of  struggle, 
he  had  not  the  courage  to  tell  the  patient  object  of  his  affeCtions  that  he 
was  not,  as  yet,  in  a position  to  offer  her  a home,  nor  could  she  live  con- 
tented as  the  wife  of  a poor  artist  in  London.  While  enjoying  the  hos- 
pitalities of  his  friends,  despair  was  in  his  heart ; and  he,  without  their 
genial  society,  fell  into  that  lonely  and  desolate  mood  so  common  to  one 
newly  returned  and  unsuccessful,  not  in  his  profession,  but  his  fortunes  ; 
to  whom  the  future  seems  blank  and  the  present  forlorn  ; his  temperament, 
combined  with  these  untoward  circumstances  and  this  secret  disappoint- 
ment, unsettled  his  mind,  and  cut  short  his  career. 

His  pictures  in  the  possession  of  American  amateurs  are  much  prized  ; 
among  them  the  “ Battle  of  Naseby,”  long  in  the  Wright  collection,  was  a 
characteristic  example  of  his  spirit  and  manner.  This  painting  represents 
Cromwell  and  Fairfax  examining  prisoners  after  the  decisive  battle  of 
Naseby.  The  figure  on  horseback,  to  the  left,  is  Lord  Fairfax.  In  front, 
standing  up,  is  Oliver  Cromwell.  In  the  centre  are  Lord  and  Lady  Ashley. 
In  the  background,  on  the  right,  is  the  king’s  carriage,  and  beside  it  are 
the  ladies  of  the  court.  Many  of  the  characters  are  likenesses  by  Vandyke. 
Another,  called  “ Safe,”  is  effective  in  its  simplicity.  A trooper  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  pursued,  and  to  be  looking  back,  in  safety,  across  the 
valley  he  has  just  passed. 

The  very  field  he  preferred,  and  the  fierce  life  and  aCtion  he  loved  to 
depiCt,  suggest  a latent  intensity  of  will  and  feeling,  the  reaction  whereof 
is  often  fraught  with  extravagance  or  despair.  It  was  his  misfortune, 
while  encouraged  in  his  vocation  by  appreciation  abroad  and  sympathy  at 
home,  to  encounter,  in  his  private  relations  and  hopes,  keen  disappointment, 
which,  aCting  on  a morbid  and  overwrought  mind,  led  to  a sad  and  sud- 
den death.  On  a dim  winter  morning,  a few  days  after  his  return,  a score 
or  two  of  his  friends  collected  in  the  parlor  of  the  New  York  Century  Club  to 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  423 

pay  the  last  tribute  to  his  memory.  It  was  a sad  and  suggestive  occasion. 
A cheerful  fire  blazed  in  the  grate  ; around  the  wall  casts  of  master- 
pieces of  Thorwaldsen,  in  basso  relievo , were  still  decorated  with  Christmas 
garlands  ; and,  in  this  room,  associated  with  literary  recreation  and  social 
delight,  appeared  the  unwonted  spectacle  of  a silent  and  tearful  group  : 
the  prominent  artists  of  the  city  here  gathered  around  the  coffin  of  their 
brother,  cut  off  in  his  prime.  After  the  service  for  the  burial  of  the  dead 
had  been  recited,  a clergyman  who  loved  art  and  artists,  in  feeling  tones 
and  with  the  eloquence  of  sorrow,  spoke  of  the  sensitive  organization  of 
those  whose  pursuit  it  was  to  embody  and  represent  the  grand  and  beauti- 
ful ; of  the  liability  to  extreme  fluctuations  of  spirits  thence  resulting  ; of  the 
retired  and  ideal  life,  the  strong  tendency  to  love  and  aspire  characteristic 
of  the  artist ; and  of  the  fearful  crises  of  emotion  incident  to  such  a nature  and 
career,  inferring  therefrom  the  profound  need  of  religion  to  the  artist,  and 
the  strong  claims  he  has  upon  human  sympathy.  The  circumstances  of 
this  painter’s  death,  the  festal  season  of  the  year,  the  scene,  the  audience, 
and  the  gloomy  weather,  combined  to  add  solemnity  and  pathos  to  his 
obsequies. 

George  Catlin  was  born  in  Wyoming  Valley,  Pa.,  studied  law  in 
Connecticut,  and  then  devoted  himself  to  painting  in  Philadelphia.  A 
party  of  Indians,  as  a delegation,  having  arrived  there, 
struck  with  their  appearance,  and  desirous  of  visiting  their  Catlin. 
homes,  Catlin  started  from  St.  Louis  in  1832  in  a steamer 
called  “The  Yellowstone,”  being  greatly  assisted  in  his  objeCt  by  Mr. 
Chateau,  her  owner  ; and,  after  three  months’  passage,  reached  the  mouth 
of  the  river  whose  name  she  bore.  He  visited  forty-eight  tribes,  who 
numbered  four  hundred  thousand  souls  ; he  collected  information,  visited 
Arkansas  and  Florida,  and  published  the  fruits  of  his  tour  in  a series 
of  illustrated  letters  in  1841.  His  gallery  of  aboriginal  portraits  was  a 
popular  and  interesting  exhibition  both  at  home  and  abroad  ; and  some  of 
the  practical  knowledge  he  obtained,  added  to  the  legends  and  statistics 
collected  by  Schoolcraft,  with  the  numerous  portraits  and  scenic  views 
published  by  them  and  other  native  explorers,  form  curious  historical 
artistic  data. 

Miner  K.  Kellogg,  of  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  during  a long  residence  in  Flor- 
ence and  London,  has  painted  an  interesting  and  well-executed  series  of 
what  may  be  called  national  representative  portraits, 
such  as  the  Circassian,  the  Greek,  and  the  Jewish  and  Kellogg. 
Moorish ; he  has  also  executed  many  individual  por- 
traits, of  which  that  of  General  Scott  in  the  New  York  City  Hall  is 
a fair  specimen.  Long  study  of  the  old  masters  has  rendered  him 
an  intelligent  cilleCtor  and  a careful  artist.  Plis  “Greek  Girl,”  “Phi- 
losopher,” and  “Moor”  are  in  the  collection  of  G.  W.  Riggs,  of 
Washington,  D.  C.  ; and  Sidney  Brooks,  of  Newport,  R.  I.,  has  a fine 
replica  of  his  head  of  General  Scott.  During  a recent  visit  to  this  country 
he  exhibited  and  sold  a piclure  remarkable  for  its  flesh  tints,  and  perhaps 


424  American  Artist  Life. 

objectionable  for  its  nude  motive,  representing  an  Eastern  beauty  reposing 
after  her  bath. 

The  gardens  of  the  desert,  as  one  of  our  poets  calls  the  prairies,  consti- 
tute a peculiar  feature  of  American  scenery.  To  an  experienced  foreigner 
the  great  charm  which  invites  a pilgrimage  to  this 
Deas.  continent,  is  the  interesting  spectacle  afforded  by  pri- 
meval nature,  and  the  juxtaposition  of  civilized  and 
savage  life,  so  richly  in  contrast  with  scenes  familiar  in  the  Old  World. 
If  there  be  any  legitimate  foundation  for  a literature  essentially  Amer- 
ican, it  is  doubtless  referable  to  like  sources.  A man  of  genius,  with 
keen  powers  of  observation,  who  came  over  in  one  of  the  earliest  steamers 
that  crossed  the  Atlantic,  complained  to  us,  after  a few  weeks’  residence 
in  Boston,  that  he  could  discover  nothing  characteristic  or  original,  except 
the  eloquence  of  a well-known  sailors’  preacher.  He  could  scarcely  realize 
that  he  was  not  in  an  English  provincial  town.  The  stranger’s  disappoint- 
ment ceased  at  once  when  he  found  himself  in  the  Far  West.  There  life 
assumed  a new  aspect,  and  nature  presented  striking  phases.  He  received 
what  he  earnestly  sought — vivid  and  lasting  impressions.  There  was  a 
moral  excitement  awakened  quite  different  from  the  luxurious  dreams  he 
had  known  on  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus,  the  mental  stimulus  derived 
from  the  intellectual  circles  of  London,  and  the  suggestions  of  art  and 
antiquity  in  Italy.  He  saw,  for  the  first  time,  majestic  rivers  flowing 
through  almost  interminable  woods  ; seas  of  verdure  decked  with  bright 
and  nameless  flowers  ; huge  cliffs  covered  with  gorgeous  autumnal  dra- 
pery, and  resembling  the  ruined  castles  he  had  beheld  in  Northern  Europe. 
Nor  was  this  new  experience  confined  to  the  externally  picturesque.  He 
became  acquainted  with  the  hunter  and  the  Indian.  The  guest  of  a fron- 
tier garrison,  he  heard  the  cry  of  wolves,  while  sharing  the  refined  hospi- 
tality of  the  drawing-room  ; and  often  passed  from  the  intelligent  compan- 
ionship of  an  accomplished  officer  to  the  lodge  of  an  aboriginal  chief.  He 
witnessed  the  grave  bearing  of  a forest-king,  and  the  infernal  orgies  of  a 
whole  intoxicated  tribe.  The  venerable  sachem,  the  graceful  squaw,  the 
lithe  young  warrior  ; the  war  chant,  the  council  fire,  and  the  hunter’s  camp, 
furnished  ample  materials  to  his  senses  and  imagination. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  a field  so  peculiar  to  our  country  has 
not  been  more  ardently  explored  by  native  artists  and  authors.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  life  of  our  cities  which  may  be  deemed  original.  Their 
comparative  youth  renders  them  far  less  suggestive  than  those  of  Europe, 
where  a greater  variety  of  elements,  and  a more  intense  social  being,  create 
ever  new  sources  of  inspiration.  We  are  educated  under  the  same  influ- 
ences as  our  English  progenitors.  Their  poets  and  philosophers  are  ours 
also,  and  have  their  parallels  among  us.  In  faCt,  the  general  culture  is 
the  same,  and  it  is  in  our  border  life  alone  that  we  can  find  the  materials 
for  national  development,  as  far  as  literature  and  art  are  concerned.  Yet 
the  greater  part  of  what  has  yet  been  done  in  America,  in  the  way  of  writ- 
ing and  painting,  echoes  the  past,  instead  of  representing  a new  present, 


Portraiture , Genre , Historical  Painters.  425 

or  foreshadowing  a great  future.  We  are  not  advocating  originality  as 
alone  desirable  ; on  the  contrary,  a good  poem,  in  the  style  of  Pope,  a fine 
essay,  in  the  dibtion  of  Addison,  or  a portrait,  after  the  manner  of  Sir  Joshua, 
for  us  have  each  their  intrinsic  interest,  wherever  produced.  We  can  see  no 
reason  to  complain  of  our  artists  and  writers,  if  the  scenes  or  the  sentiments 
they  illustrate  have  no  peculiar  “ native  American”  zest,  provided  they  are 
in  themselves  noble  and  lovely.  There  is,  indeed,  no  little  cant  prevailing 
on  this  subject,  and  it  is  absurd  to  expebt  from  a mind  educated  in  one  of 
our  northern  cities,  any  other  than  a Saxon  development.  Greater  freedom 
of  thought,  a bolder  reach  of  speculation  should,  indeed,  distinguish  men 
of  talent  in  a republic  ; and  there  are  a few  local  traits  of  climate  and 
scenery  which  our  poets  should  chronicle  ; but,  as  a general  rule,  our 
tastes  are  formed  on  the  same  models  as  those  of  England,  and  our  mental 
characteristics  are  identical  with  the  race  whence  we  sprung.  It  is  with 
reference  to  the  frequent  complaints  of  the  want  of  transatlantic  apprecia- 
tion, that  we  allude  to  this  question.  It  is  unreasonable  to  expebt  that 
any  great  interest  will  be  excited  abroad  in  the  fruits  either  of  the  pen  or 
pencil  here,  except  so  far  as  the  subjects  are  novel,  or  the  execution  super- 
latively great.  Tales  of  frontier  and  Indian  life — philosophic  views  of  our 
institutions — the  adventures  of  the  hunter  and  the  emigrant — correbt  pic- 
tures of  what  is  truly  remarkable  in  our  scenery,  awaken  instant  attention 
in  Europe.  If  our  artists  or  authors,  therefore,  wish  to  earn  trophies 
abroad,  let  them  seize  upon  themes  essentially  American.  The  young 
artist  named  at  the  head  of  this  sketch  abted  on  this  principle.  Those  who 
were  accustomed  to  look  occasionally  into  the  rooms  of  the  Art  Union  in 
New  York,  cannot  fail  to  have  seen,  from  time  to  time,  very  spirited  repre- 
sentations of  Indian  or  hunter  life.  There  was  a wildness  and  pibturesque 
truth  about  many  of  these  specimens,  in  remarkable  contrast  to  the  more 
formal  and  hackneyed  subjebts  around  them.  We  remember  one,  in  par- 
ticular, of  an  Indian  maiden  standing  on  a rock,  and  gazing  forth  upon  an 
immense  prairie,  her  figure  relieved  against  the  evening  sky,  and  her  whole 
air  full  of  the  poetry  of  grief.  One  could  have  surmised  the  tale  at  once. 
She  had  been  abandoned  by  her  lover,  and  was  about  to  cast  herself  from 
that  precipice.  There  she  stood  alone,  calm  and  voiceless,  watching  the 
sun  go  down — as  she  had  often  done  beside  the  faithless  objebt  of  her 
devotion.  Another  represented  a Pawnee,  galloping  on  an  unshorn  and 
unbridled  horse  across  the  prairie.  Its  authenticity  was  self-evident,  and 
everything  about  the  rider  and  his  steed  in  perfebt  keeping. 

The  maternal  grandfather  of  Charles  Deas  was  Ralph  Izard,  whose 
recently-published  correspondence  honorably  identifies  him  with  our  Revo- 
lutionary history.  Elis  promising  descendant  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in 
1818,  and  received  his  education  from  the  lamented  John  Sanderson.  His 
first  ideas  of  art  were  derived  from  some  good  copies  of  the  old  masters 
belonging  to  his  family,  and  from  a habit  acquired  very  early,  of  diverting 
himself  by  drawing  at  school  on  a slate,  and  modelling  little  horses  in  bees- 
wax at  home.  Ele  possessed  great  sensibility  to  color.  According  to 


42  6 


American  Artist  Life. 


phrenologists,  this  depends  upon  organization,  and  fadts  warrant  the  infer- 
ence. A striking  difference  is  observable  in  individuals,  both  in  regard 
to  the  corredtness  of  their  natural  perceptions,  and  the  feeling  they  have 
in  this  regard.  The  remark  of  a blind  man,  when  asked  his  idea  of  scar- 
let, that  it  was  like  the  sound  of  a trumpet,  is  well  known,  and  indicates 
how  much  reality  there  is  in  such  impressions.  It  was  one  of  the  earliest 
delights  of  Deas  to  note  the  mysteries  of  color,  and  trace  the  manner  in 
which  the  brilliancy  of  one  is  heightened  by  the  gravity  of  another.  To 
one  who  has  the  soul  of  a painter,  the  effedts  of  light  and  shade  are  a 
world  in  which  it  is  as  pleasant  for  him  to  expatiate,  as  for  a soldier  in  mili- 
tary tadtics,  or  a bard  in  the  intricacies  of  the  heart.  Visits  to  the  old 
Pennsylvania  Academy,  to  Sully’s  rooms,  and  loiterings  on  holiday  after- 
noons before  the  print-shop  windows  in  Chestnut  street ; drawings  from 
casts  of  the  antique,  and  experiments  in  portraying  his  playmates,  were 
among  the  significant  tendencies  of  our  painter’s  boyhood.  Ilis  views, 
however,  from  the  first,  were  diredted  with  enthusiasm  toward  a military 
life  ; and  upon  leaving  school  he  went  to  live  on  the  Hudson,  and  prepared 
himself  to  enter  the  Military  Academy  there  situated.  Meantime,  however, 
his  leisure  was  wholly  given  to  exploring  expeditions  amid  the  beautiful 
scenery  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  Plis  constitution  thus  became  in- 
ured to  fatigue,  his  eye  pradtised  in  the  observation  of  nature,  and  his 
dormant  artistic  propensities  fostered  into  new  vigor.  He  was  a zealous 
sportsman,  and  found  his  purest  enjoyment  when  wandering,  equipped  with 
gun,  fishing-rod,  and  sketch-book.  This  independent  existence,  alternating 
with  periods  of  secluded  application,  was  finely  adapted  to  harmonize  his 
charadter.  Having  failed  in  obtaining  an  appointment  as  a cadet,  he  im- 
mediately turned  his  whole  attention  to  the  art  of  painting,  and  sought  to 
enlarge  and  deepen  his  scenic  impressions  by  a tour  to  the  head-waters  of 
the  Delaware,  and  through  the  magnificent  scenery  of  the  White  Hills.  A 
year  or  two  were  then  given  to  the  study  of  his  profession,  under  the  aus- 
pices  of  the  National  Academy,  and  to  improving  fellowship  with  other 
artists.  The  era  of  manhood  brought  with  it  a revelation  to  the  moral 
nature  of  the  student,  and  he  learned  to  recognize  the  authority  of  the 
higher  sentiments.  His  first  successful  pidture  illustrated  a frequent  local 
scene,  familiar  to  the  denizens  of  the  Hudson.  It  was  called  the  “ Turkey 
Shoot,”  and  was  so  graphically  delineated  as  at  once  to  hit  the  fancy  of  a 
genuine  Knickerbocker  whose  ancestors  were  among  the  early  colonists, 
who  became  its  purchaser.  The  next  year  he  exhibited  a variety  of  cabinet 
pidtures,  drawn  chiefly  from  familiar  life,  which  met  with  more  or  less  suc- 
cess. “ Hudibras  Engaging  the  Bear-baiters,”  “Walking  the  Chalk,” 
“ Shoeing  a Horse  by  Lamplight,”  etc.,  were  among  the  subjedts. 

With  the  tastes  and  habits  we  have  described,  it  is  not  difficult  to  fancy 
the  efifedt  produced  upon  the  mind  of  Deas  by  the  sight  of  Catlin’s  Indian 
Gallery.  Here  was  a result  of  art,  not  drawn  merely  from  academic  prac- 
tice or  the  lonely  vigils  of  a studio,  but  gathered  amid  the  freedom  of  na- 
ture. Here  were  trophies  as  eloquent  of  adventure  as  of  skill,  environed 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  427 

with  the  most  national  associations,  and  memorials  of  a race  fast  dwindling 

' o 

from  the  earth.  With  what  interest  would  after-generations  look  upon 
these  portraits,  and  how  attractive  to  European  eyes  would  be  such  authen- 
tic “ counterfeit  presentments  ” of  a savage  people,  about  whose  history 
romance  and  tradition  alike  throw  their  spells  ! To  visit  the  scenes  whence 
Catlin  drew  these  unique  specimens  of  art,  to  study  the  picturesque  forms, 
costumes,  attitudes,  and  grouping  of  Nature’s  own  children  ; to  share  the 
grateful  repast  of  the  hunter,  and  taste  the  wild  excitement  of  frontier  life, 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  noblest  scenery  of  the  land,  was  a prospect  calcu- 
lated to  stir  the  blood  of  one  with  the  true  sense  of  the  beautiful,  and  a 
natural  relish  for  woodcraft  and  sporting.  A brother  of  the  artist  was 
attached  to  the  fifth  infantry,  then  stationed  at  Fort  Crawford,  and  in  the 
spring  of  1840  he  left  New  York  for  that  distant  post.  By  the  lake  route 
he  reached  Mackinaw — one  of  the  most  romantic  spots  in  the  country — 
and  here,  for  the  first  time,  he  saw  genuine  sons  of  the  wilderness,  many  of 
the  Chippewa  tribe  being  encamped  on  the  beach.  He  thence  proceeded 
to  Green  Bay,  through  the  interior  of  Wisconsin,  by  Fort  Winnebago  and 
Fox  Lake,  to  his  destination  at  Prairie  du  Chien.  Besides  a happy  meet- 
ing with  his  brother,  he  was  cordially  received  here  by  his  messmates. 
General  Brooke  was  at  that  time  commanding  in  the  North-west,  and  through 
his  influence  and  that  of  the  gentlemen  connected  with  the  Fur  companies, 
he  was  enabled  to  collect  sketches  of  Indians,  frontier  scenery,  and  subjects 
of  agreeable  reminiscence  and  picturesque  incident,  enough  to  afford  mate- 
rial for  a life’s  painting.  Keokuk,  the  great  chief  and  orator  of  the  Sacs 
and  Foxes,  was  at  Fort  Crawford  holding  a council  with  the  Winnebagoes. 
The  assemblage  and  their  proceedings  were  very  imposing,  The  Sacs 
were  endeavoring  to  “ cover  the  blood  ” of  a young  man  of  the  other  tribe 
who  had  been  killed  some  time  previously.  They  tendered  a considerable 
sum  of  money,  which  was  at  last  accepted  by  the  opposite  party.  The 
Sacs  and  Foxes  were  living  in  tents  allowed  them  from  the  fort,  in  an 
enclosure  attached  to  the  palisades.  A relative  of  the  deceased  objeCt  of 
the  conclave,  wishing  to  insult  Keokuk,  took  advantage  of  the  absence  of 
most  of  the  party,  to  crawl  up  under  the  shelter  of  a fence  in  the  rear  of  his 
tent,  where  he  was  seated  in  state.  The  costume  of  the  venerable  chief 
was  superb,  a tiara  of  panther  and  raven  skin  adorning  his  head.  The 
intruding  Winnebago  quietly  lifted  the  canvas  of  the  tent,  and  suddenly 
tearing  this  gear  from  the  old  man’s  person  and  scattering  it  over  the 
mats,  retreated  as  he  came,  before  the  sentry  could  arrest  him.  This  insult 
to  their  leader  produced  many  serio-comic  scenes,  and  gave  Deas  a fine 
opportunity  to  observe  the  expression  of  Indian  character.  Keokuk  main- 
tained a dignified  silence,  but  the  gloomy  light  of  his  eye  betokened  how 
keenly  he  felt  the  mortification.  His  enraged  spouse  was  by  no  means  so 
calm.  Her  imprecations  caused  an  outcry  which  called  out  the  officer  of 
the  day,  and  it  was  long  before  the  storm  was  quelled.  The  scene  afforded 
striking  pictures  of  Indian  character.  The  new  post  of  Fort  Atkinson, 
fifty  miles  west  of  Crawford,  was  also  visited.  The  picturesque  appear- 


428 


American  Artist  Life. 


ance  of  the  cabins  and  tents,  the  novel  mode  of  life  in  the  open  air,  the 
excellence  of  the  grouse-shooting  on  the  route,  the  success  of  which  was 
enhanced  by  the  perfeCt  training  of  the  pointers,  rendered  the  trip  delight- 
ful, and  furnished  some  camp  incidents  for  the  sketch-book.  After  his  return 
to  the  “ Prairie,”  a command  was  sent  to  the  “Painted  Rock”  to  attend  a 
payment  of  the  Winnebagoes.  Here  the  artist  saw  the  natives  to  advantage 
in  their  every-day  life.  Every  moment  of  the  excursion  was  replete  with 
interest.  The  party  ascended  the  river  in  a Mackinaw  boat.  Several 
Indians  were  allowed  to  come  on  board,  one  of  whom  was  quite  a character, 
known  by  the  sobriquet  of  “Two  Shillings,”  which  he  obtained  by  his 
adroitness  in  procuring  quarters  of  dollars  from  visitors  at  Washington, 
while  there  on  a deputation.  The  scenes  witnessed  at  this  payment  would 
require  a volume  to  do  them  Justice.  Sickness  in  all  its  stages  was  there, 
from  the  first  listlessness  of  ague  to  the  raging  madness  of  high  fever.  All 
were  attacked,  from  the  mother  with  her  first-born  to  the  aged  crone,  from 
the  venerable  sachem  to  the  young  warrior.  In  passing  from  lodge  to 
lodge,  the  most  extraordinary  incidents  presented  themselves  ; and  in  the 
stillness  of  the  moonlit  nights,  the  echoes  of  the  Indian  lover’s  flute  blent 
with  the  battle-chant  or  the  maiden’s  shrill  song. 

On  another  occasion,  Deas  left  the  hospitable  walls  of  Fort  Crawford  to 
accompany  an  expedition  into  the  interior  of  Iowa,  and  penetrated  the 
country  as  far  as  the  east  branch  of  the  Des  Moines  river.  While  ab- 
sent, besides  enjoying  fine  sport,  he  enriched  his  portfolio,  and  thus 
ended  with  renewed  gratification  his  first  summer  in  the  West.  Prairie 
du  Chien,  at  this  period,  was  almost  a French  village,  and  the  lively  man- 
ners of  the  inhabitants,  their  races,  and  other  out-door  amusements, 
during  the  fine  autumn  weather,  afforded  new  subjects  of  observation. 
The  groups  of  half-breeds,  Indians,  and  voyageurs,  always  to  be  found 
about  the  trading-houses  and  fur  depots,  realized  all  that  an  artist  needs 
in  the  way  of  frontier  costume  and  manners.  In  the  winter  of  1840-41, 
he  visited  Fort  Winnebago,  went  down  on  the  ice  to  Rock  river,  and  re- 
turned to  paint  the  likenesses  of  the  prominent  members  of  the  tribe.  He 
again  visited  the  new  post,  the  surgeon’s  room  being  his  studio.  The 
ensuing  summer  he  made  a tour  to  Fort  Snelling  and  the  Upper  Missis- 
sippi, painted  a view  of  St.  Anthony’s  Falls,  and  several  of  the  fine-look- 
ing Sioux  in  the  vicinity.  The  latter  enterprise  was  attended  with  some 
difficulty.  The  Indians,  believing  that  the  governor  had  sent  a “medicine 
man  ” to  carry  away  a portion  of  their  visible  bodies  with  a view  to  the 
utter  destruction  of  the  tribe,  refused  to  sit.  Tommah,  a great  conjurer, 
was  at  last  induced  to  submit  to  the  ordeal,  after  much  persuasion,  and 
the  others  soon  followed  his  example.  Deas  remained  a week  or  two  on 
a beautiful  sloping  prairie,  dotted  with  the  conical  lodges  of  the  race  of  In- 
dians who  make  such  regions  their  home.  Here  he  saw  some  admirable 
specimens  of  the  human  form,  and  witnessed  the  celebrated  ball-play  in  its 
perfection,  each  man  appearing  in  a gala  dress,  and  painted  from  head  tc 
foot.  There  were  also  dog  feasts,  rice  feasts,  dances,  songs,  and  recita- 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  429 

tions  by  the  old  men,  of  their  principal  exploits  in  war.  The  occasion 
was  the  ratification  of  a treaty,  and  called  out  all  the  display  of  which  the 
Indians  were  capable.  At  a subsequent  period,  our  artist  joined  the  com- 
mand under  Major  Wharton,  ordered  to  proceed  to  Fort  Leavenworth,  to 
the  Pawnee  villages  on  the  Platte  river. 

It  will  be  seen  from  what  has  preceded,  what  extensive  opportunities  he 
enjoyed  in  the  sphere  which  he  has  chosen  for  the  exercise  of  his  talents. 
If  it  be  true,  as  is  maintained  by  many  advocates,  that  Nature  is  the  best 
guide,  and  that  the  poet  and  the  painter  are  most  successful  who  throw 
themselves  heartily  into  her  embrace,  who  are  jealous  of  the  encroach- 
ments of  authority,  and  seek  mainly  to  reproduce  what  they  see  and  feel, 
independent  of  the  dictation  of  schools  and  public  opinion,  we  may  justly 
look  for  rich  and  peculiar  results  from  such  youthful  experience  of  the 
artist.  He  was  long  established  at  St.  Louis,  and  it  is  gratifying  to  add,  from 
his  own  testimony,  that  he  there  found  all  that  a painter  can  desire  in  the 
patronage  of  friends,  and  general  sympathy  and  appreciation.  Among  the 
subjects  which  then  occupied  him  are,  “ Long  Jake,”  designed  to  embody 
the  character  of  the  mountain  hunter  ; the  “ Indian  Guide,”  whose  proto- 
type was  a venerable  Shawnee  who  accompanied  Major  Wharton  ; “ The 
Wounded  Pawnee;”  “The  Voyageur,”  “The  Trapper,”  two  illustrations 
from  the  history  of  “ Wenona  ; ” “A  Group  of  Sioux,”  and  “ Hunters  on 
the  Prairie.”  The  most  important  epic  subject  which  engaged  his  atten- 
tion is  taken  from  the  life  of  General  Clarke,  of  Kentucky  ; it  is  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Council  of  the  Shawnees  at  North  Bend,  when  by  his  firmness 
he  saved  the  frontier  from  the  horrors  of  an  Indian  war.  Another  pidlure, 
entitled,  “The  Last  Shot,”  was  founded  on  an  incident  which  occurred  im- 
mediately after  the  battle  of  Rio  Grande — the  parties  being  Captain 
Walker  and  a Ranchero.  Art,  it  will  be  thus  seen,  has  not  been  without 
its  representatives  in  the  Far  West;  and  diverse  as  is  the  school  from 
those  of  Europe,  it  has  its  own  permanent  interest,  and  one  which,  we  trust, 
will  be  more  and  more  worthily  recognized  and  illustrated. 

In  his  latter  years  Deas  was  deranged  ; and  this  mental  malady,  before 
it  unmistakably  declared  itself,  thwarted  his  art-efforts  ; he  executed  several 
poor  and  positively  bad  pictures,  and  then  was  long  the  inmate  of  an  asy- 
lum, where  he  died.  Yet  his  talent  even  when  manifest  in  the  vagaries  of 
a diseased  mind,  was  often  effective ; one  of  his  wild  pictures,  representing 
a black  sea,  over  which  a figure  hung,  suspended  by  a ring,  while  from  the 
waves  a monster  was  springing,  was  so  horrible,  that  a sensitive  artist 
fainted  at  the  sight. 

The  most  absolute  test  of  mastery  in  limning  is  doubtless  found  in  the 
work  ol  the  draughtsman,  who,  without  adventitious  aids,  and  with  no  in- 
strument but  a bit  of  chalk  or  crayon,  puts  upon  paper, 
canvas,  or  panel,  by  mere  lines,  his  conceptions  or  imita-  Cheney, 
tions.  Artists  recognize  in  the  Cartoons  Raphael’s  sign- 
manual  both  of  genius  and  acquirement ; and  many  a dazzling  or  subtle 
colorist  hides  his  poverty  of  ideas,  or  false  drawing,  under  evasive  or  seduc* 


430 


American  Artist  Life. 


tive  tints.  The  chaste  and  charming  possibilities  of  the  crayon,  even  in 
portraiture,  were  first  notably  exhibited  among  us  by  a man  whose  aspect 
and  influence  were  decidedly  those  of  genius.  No  one  who  ever  knew  Seth 
Cheney  can  forget  the  spiritual  expressiveness  of  his  clear  blue  eye,  or  the 
quick  and  sensitive  language  of  his  temperament.  One  of  several  brothers 
of  a family  identified  with  the  little  town  of  Manchester,  Connecticut,  where 
they  have  long  quietly  prospered  as  manufacturers,  the  artistic  proclivi- 
ties of  the  younger  were  enlisted  at  an  early  age  by  his  brother,  John 
Cheney,  then  justly  regarded  as  the  best  engraver  of  heads  in  America. 
When  the  best  faculty  of  the  one  was  reproduced  by  the  burin  of  the 
other,  a rare  result,  both  in  character  and  refinement  of  execution,  was 
secured. 

Seth  Cheney  was  a keen  and  delicate  lover  of  beauty  ; his  choicest  work 
was  in  delineating,  with  the  crayon,  exquisite  female  heads  ; and  some  of 
these  far  surpassed  anything  ever  before  achieved  on  this  side  of  the  water  ; 
his  likenesses  were  unequal  ; fastidious  and  susceptible,  it  was  requisite 
that  he  should  be  en  rapport  with  his  sitter  to  succeed.  He  often  relin- 
quished commissions,  even  when  the  subjects  were  eminent  characters, 
because  he  found  between  them  and  himself  a moral  antagonism  which 
chilled  and  confused  his  touch  and  feeling. 

A man  so  organized  and  resolute  was,  of  course,  ill  calculated  to  pros- 
per, in  the  common  significance  of  that  term  ; but  Seth  Cheney  had  all 
the  independence,  as  well  as  the  varied  sympathies  and  strong  personality, 
of  the  artist-charaCter.  He  loved  art  for  its  own  sake,  and  cultivated  it 
with  disinterested  though  desultory  zeal.  His  standard  was  high,  his  affin- 
ities refined  ; and  he  gave  those  who  were  intimate  with  him  the  impres- 
sion of  a spiritual  rather  than  an  executive  minister  at  the  shrine  of  art ; 
they  found  reflections  of  the  man  in  his  congenial  subjects,  recognized  a 
subtle  beauty  and  grace  in  his  drawings  which  confirmed  the  personal  im- 
pression ; but  the  number  and  character  of  his  works  were  of  too  limited 
a range  to  make  his  fame  at  all  commensurate  with  his  gifts.  Seth  Cheney, 
notwithstanding,  initiated  in  this  country  the  cultivation  and  appreciation 
of  crayon  portraiture,  and  left  peerless  examples  thereof,  breathing  a deli- 
cate and  delicious  mastery  of  the  very  elements  of  expression.  It  was 
written  of  him,  with  truth,  that  these  felicitous  exemplars  were  eloquent 
of  that  “intensity  of  feeling  and  that  delicate  passive  power  which  a pure 
soul  radiates  through  the  features.”  Cheney  thus  brought  us  near  to  the 
mysteries  of  character  in  his  limning,  as  he  did  to  those  of  life  in  his 
influence  ; somewhat  of  the  supernatural,  of  the  poetry  of  consciousness 
wherewith  Allston  impressed  his  intimates,  marked  the  genius  and  exhaled 
from  the  presence  of  Cheney.  His  life  was  an  earnest  pursuit  or  rather 
recognition  of  beauty;  four  times  he  visited  Europe  ; fragile,  fearless,  and 
fond,  he  was  a seer  in  his  way,  a keen  and  aesthetic  observer  ; he  was 
deeply  loved  and  mourned,  and  there  was  a striCl  poetical  propriety  in  his 
moonlight  burial,  after  a calm  and  prolonged  decline,  in  his  native  village. 

Crayon-limning  has  found  many  admirers  and  skilful  votaries  among  us 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


431 


since  the  death  of  Cheney,  which  occurred  in  the  autumn  of  1856.  Some 
of  the  portraits  of  Rowse  for  expression  and  finish  are  de- 
servedly held  in  high  estimation  ; Furness,  Darley,  Miller,  Duggan. 
Mayer,  Collyer,  Miss  Cheney,  and  others  have  won  rep- 
utation and  achieved  success  therein.  Barry’s  “Motherless,”  his  “ Evange- 
line,” head  of  Whittier,  and  other  works,  attraCt  the  finest  astistic  sympa- 
thies ; and  Paul  Duggan  was  to  a large  circle  in  New  York  what  Cheney 
was  to  one  in  Boston  ; and  although  his  art-studies  occasionally  resulted 
in  a masterly  oil  head,  like  the  one  he  painted  of  the  late  lamented  George 
L.  Duyckinck,  the  crayon  was  his  favorite  medium.  He  died  in  the  winter 
of  1861. 

“ Paul  Duggan,”  writes  one  who  knew  him  well,  “was  an  Irishman.  He 
came  early  to  this  country  ; studied  art  as  a painter ; was  made  Professor 
of  Drawing  in  the  Free  Academy  of  New  York  ; felt  ill  with  consumption ; 
went  to  Europe  eight  or  nine  years  ago,  and  came  home  somewhat  better  ; 
found  himself  unable  to  work  in  the  Academy  or  the  studio  ; and  returning 
to  England,  lived  quietly  there  until  a short  time  since,  when  he  went  to 
Paris  for  a visit,  and  there  suddenly  died.  And  how  much  has  died  with 
him  ! 

“ He  has  left  no  works  ; nothing  that  will  compel  the  world  to  remember 
him  and  wish  he  had  lived  longer.  But  upon  a small  circle,  and  especially 
upon  the  memory  of  his  old  associates  among  the  Centurions,  he  has  carved 
his  name  in  imperishable  lines.  There  are  few  men  so  purely  unselfish  as 
he  was  ; so  naturally  gentle  and  unobtrusive.  Yet  it  was  not  because  he 
was  a negative  person,  for  he  was  a thinker,  and  a man  of  strong  convictions 
and  great  talent.  His  nature  was  exquisitely  artistic  ; full  of  sympathy  for 
all  kinds  of  grace  and  beauty  ; delicately  sensitive  to  sounds  and  sights  and 
mental  emotions,  and  of  the  truest  humor.  His  appreciation  of  wit  and 
humor  lighted  his  whole  soul  with  laughter.  ‘ A good  thing  ’ was  an  inward 
and  constantly  recurring  delight.  The  expression  was  never  boisterous, 
but  it  was  delightful.  Humor  affeCted  him  like  eleCtricity,  putting  his  sys- 
tem into  a cheerful  glow.” 

Rowse  is  one  of  the  most  delicate  and  true  crayon-limners  in  the  coun- 
try ; some  of  his  heads  are  unsurpassed  for  fine  feeling  and  exquisite  draw- 
ing. “ At  the  entrance  of  the  American  Department,” 
says  a critic  of  the  Paris  Exhibition,  “ Emerson’s  face  Rowse. 
questions  you  from  one  side,  and  Lowell’s  quizzes  you  from 
the  other  ; ” these  heads  are  from  the  peneil  of  Rowse,  and  this  uncon- 
scious recognition  of  their  speaking  similitude,  suggests  how  much  vital 
character  this  gifted  draughtsman  puts  into  his  likenesses. 

A few  years  ago,  there  wras  an  artist’s  studio  at  West  Hoboken,  which 
formed  a startling  contrast  to  most  of  the  peaceful  haunts  of  the  same  name, 
in  the  adjacent  metropolis ; it  was  so  constructed  as  to  re- 
ceive animals  ; guns,  pistols,  and  cutlasses  hung  on  the  Ranney. 
walls  ; and  these,  with  curious  saddles  and  primitive  riding 
gear,  might  lead  a visitor  to  imagine  he  had  entered  a pioneer’s  cabin  or 


432 


American  Artist  Life. 


border  chieftain’s  hut : such  an  idea  would,  however,  have  been  at  once 
dispelled  by  a glance  at  the  many  sketches  and  studies  which  proclaimed 
that  an  artist,  and  not  a bushranger,  had  here  found  a home.  Yet  the  ob- 
jects around  were  characteristic  of  the  occupant’s  experience  and  taste. 
He  had  caught  the  spirit  of  border  adventure,  and  was  enamored  of  the 
picturesque  in  scenery  and  character  outside  of  the  range  of  civilization  ; 
and  to  represent  and  give  them  historical  interest  was  his  artistic  am- 
bition. After  a brief  attempt  to  reconcile  himself  to  a mercantile  career, 
William  S.  Ranney  connected  himself  with  the  anrqr,  and  during  the 
Texan  war,  witnessed  many  remarkable  scenes  of  nature  ; he  had  grown 
familiar  with  the  wilderness,  studied  the  aspeCts  of  hunter  and  aboriginal 
life,  realized  the  thrill  and  throe  of  the  explorer’s  achievements,  and  came 
back  to  the  heart  of  civilization^  prepared  with  subjects  and  material  to  make 
that  condition  of  humanity  strongly  contrast  with  primitive  life  and  adven- 
ture. His  pictures,  albeit  not  remarkable  for  finish  in  detail  or  maturity 
of  execution,  had  the  freshness  and  force  derived  from  a congenial  subject, 
treated  by  a sympathetic,  though  not  highly  disciplined  hand  : accordingly 
they  were  not  wanting  in  dramatic  truth,  natural  and  local  interest,  or 
picturesque  effeCt ; and  were  therefore  popular.  A more  characteristic  in- 
troduction to  ge7ire  painting  in  America  can  hardly  be  imagined.  The 
“ Burial  of  De  Soto,”  “The  Trapper’s  last  Shot,”  “ Boone  and  his  Com- 
panions Discovering  Kentucky,”  are  among  the  works  of  Ranney  which 
won  the  common  eye  and  heart,  and  have  a genuine  American  scope  and 
tone.  An  earlier  favorite  was  “ The  Sale  of  Manhattan  to  the  Indians.” 
Doubtless  Ranney’s  range  was  sometimes  too  ambitious  for  his  artistic 
power  ; he  wanted  culture,  not  inspiration  ; he  had  struck  out  a native  and 
promising  path,  and  with  time  and  opportunities,  would  have  achieved  a 
memorable  success  in  a fresh  sphere  : in  costume  and  minor  details  he 
was  remarkably  accurate,  and  his  subjects  were  often  chosen  with  dramatic 
skill.  Ill-health  long  preyed  upon  his  strength  and  spirits  ; his  later  years 
were,  therefore,  unprosperous  ; but  his  brother  artists  came  earnestly  to  the 
rescue  of  his  family,  when  left  unprovided  for  by  his  death,  and  it  was  the 
impartial  verdiCt  of  criticism  that  his  ability  “only  needed  cultivation  to 
place  him  high  among  historical  painters.”  Besides  the  kind  of  subjects 
mentioned,  there  are  three  characteristic  works  of  Ranney  in  the  collection 
of  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York — “ Wild  Horses,”  “ The 
Muleteer,”  and  “The  Old  Oaken  Bucket.” 

The  name  of  Matteson  is  associated  with  patriotic  and  popular  prints  ; 
with  more  complete  early  advantages  he  would  have  been  a finished,  as  he 
is  already  an  expressive,  genre  artist.  His  “ Spirit  of  ’76  ” 
Matteson.  was,  and  is  still,  greatly  relished  by  the  people  ; and  several 
American  historical  scenes  have  been  delineated  by  him, 
and  are  to  be  found  in  various  parts  of  the  State  of  New  York.  His  por- 
trait of  Mayor  Havemeyer  is  in  the  New  York  City  Hall  ; a characteristic 
work  of  his  is  “ Captain  Glen  claiming  the  Prisoners  after  the  Burning  of 
ScheneCtady.”  These  early  groups  judiciously  avoid  extravagance,  are  often 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


433 


harmonious  in  color,  but  sometimes  want  vigor  of  handling.  Among  his 
latest  pictures  is  a series  of  domestic  rural  scenes  conceived  with  simplicity 
and  graceful  feeling — “ The  Rustic  Courtship  ” — a young  farmer  talking 
with  a country  lass  in  a porch,  with  the  old  mother  in  the  background  of 
the  room,  seen  by  an  open  window  ; “ The  Morning  Meal” — a girl  feeding 
chickens  by  a leafy  farm-cottage,  with  children  ; and  the  u First  Ride  ” — a 
rustic  father  holding  a little  fellow  on  a horse’s  back,  while  his  mother 
gazes  delightedly  from  the  veranda  ; familiar  subjects,  unpretending  and 
genial  in  treatment,  and  well  fitted  to  charm  rural  households. 

Whoever  enjoys  a friendly  talk  with  Matteson,  at  his  pleasant  home  at 
Sherburne,  Chenango  Co.,  N.  Y.,  if  successful  in  awakening  a reminiscent 
mood,  hears  a story  of  early  hardship  and  struggle  which  seems  like  the 
opening  chapter  of  a local  novel.  Born  at  Peterboro’,  Madison  Co.,  N.  Y., 
on  the  ninth  of  May,  1813,  his  father,  a sagacious  politician,  named  him 
for  Governor  Tompkins,  in  whose  recent  election  the  Democratic  party 
was  then  rejoicing ; appointed  deputy-sheriff  of  Morrisville,  the  elder 
Matteson  allowed  his  boy  free  access  to  the  cell  of  an  Indian  incarcerated 
on  the  charge  of  murder,  whose  carvings  and  drawings  were  famous  in  all 
the  country  round;  supplying  this  unique  master  with  the  materials  of  his 
art,  the  young  Tompkins  learned  to  crudely  practice  and  to  faithfully  love  the 
vocation. 

His  first  lesson  was  sketching  a gable  at  his  mother’s  knee  ; he  followed 
an  itinerant  silhouette-limner  about  the  village,  and  copied  his  instrument ; 
obtained  a paint-box,  borrowed  prints  from  a passing  traveller,  engaged  in 
mechanical  contrivances  with  an  ingenious  comrade,  and  improved  on  his 
schoolmaster’s  attempts  at  colored  drawings,  until  the  necessity  of  earning 
a subsistence  obliged  the  boy  to  remit  his  favorite  pursuit,  tend  a drug 
store,  and  became  a tailor’s  apprentice  ; even  then  he  managed  to 
draw  the  figures  in  the  “mourning-pieces”  of  the  girls  at  the  village 
academy  ; and  finally  to  start  off  with  crayons  and  knapsack,  and,  on  foot 
and  by  stage-coach,  seek  chances  to  take  a likeness  for  a few  shillings, 
trudging  wearily  in  the  sun,  faint  and  fasting  by  the  wayside,  sleeping 
in  canal-boats,  and  reaching  Albany,  at  last,  penniless  and  discouraged — 
to  return  home  a wiser  and  sadder  youth,  weary  of  Dutch  boors,  of 
short  commons,  and  forlorn  wayfaring.  He  passed  a week  with  Bra- 
dish,  a portrait-painter  of  Manlius,  N.  Y.,  set  up  for  himself  at  Caze- 
novia,  and  was  sent  to  New  York  to  study  at  the  expense  of  a gen- 
tleman of  Lenox.  There,  after  the  usual  discouraging  ledlure,  Colonel 
Trumbull  advised  and  cheered  him  ; he  drew  from  the  antique  in  the 
Academy,  opened  a studio  in  Broadway,  and  in  1839  returned  to  West- 
ern New  York,  and  for  three  years  was  lucratively  occupied  with  por- 
traits, greatly  befriended  by  Rev.  Dr.  Hale,  of  Hobart  College.  On  a 
subsequent  visit  to  the  metropolis,  his  “ Spirit  of  ’76”  won  the  attention 
of  Edmonds,  the  genre  painter,  who  secured  its  purchase  by  the  Art- 
Union;  a shout  of  praise  hailed  its  drawing,  and  thenceforth  Matteson 
prospered.  Among  his  pictures  is  one  delineating  a scene  at  the  burning 

28 


434 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  Schenedtady,  painted  for  James  W.  Beekman,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  one 
of  whose  ancestors  figures  therein;  “The  first  Sabbath  of  the  Pilgrims,” 
“ The  Last  of  the  Race,”  “ Lafayette  at  Olmutz,”  “Whirling  the  Platter,” 
and  “Redeeming  Forfeits;”  his  “Examination  of  a Witch,”  one  of  the 
largest  of  his  compositions,  was  painted  for  William  D.  White,  Esq.,  of 
Albany  ; and  one  of  his  best  is  “ A Justice’s  Court ; ” he  made  the  designs  for 
the  popular  engravings  of  “ The  First  Prayer  in  Congress,”  and  “ Washing- 
ton’s Inaugural.”  Henry  Dwight,  Esq.,  formerly  of  Geneva,  N.  Y.,  induced 
Matteson  to  resume  practice  in  New  York,  and  in  1841  he  again  established 
himself  there,  and  was  prosperously  occupied,  deriving  much  pleasure  and 
profit  from  an  “ Art-Reunion,”  of  which  Elliot,  Kensett,  May,  Gifford, 
Duggan,  and  other  leading  painters,  were  members,  and  where  ledtures  and 
a library  facilitated  their  progress.  In  1850,  Matteson  purchased  a home 
at  Sherburne,  and  soon  after  painted  for  William  Schaus,  the  art-dealer, 
the  pictures  of  the  “ Signing  the  Contradt  on  Board  the  Mayflower,” 
“The  First  Sabbath  of  the  Puritans,”  and  “Perils  of  the  Early  Colonists,” 
etc.  ; his  “ First  Sacrament  on  the  American  Shores,”  much  praised  by  Bish- 
ops Delancey  and  Coxe,  was  painted  for  Henry  M.  Mygate,  Esq.,  of  Albany, 
N.  Y.  ; “Elliot  Preaching  to  the  Indians”  was  sold  to  L.  Annesley,  Esq., 
of  the  same  city  ; “ Rip  Van  Winkle’s  return  from  the  Mountains  ” belongs 
to  Gilbert  Davidson,  Esq.,  of  Albany,  and  the  “Hop  Yard”  was  painted 
for  Mortimer  Conger,  Esq.,  of  Waterville,  N.  Y.  The  national  and  rustic 
subjects  drawn  by  this  pioneer  genre  painter,  indicate  the  average  taste  of 
the  people,  and  suggest  what  themes,  executed  with  greater  finish  and 
more  subtle  elaboration,  would  most  successfully  illustrate  this  branch  of 
art  among  us.  Matteson  was  eledted,  in  1865,  President  of  the  Che- 
nango Agricultural  Society;  he  has  delivered  addresses  before  similar 
associations  at  Sherburne  and  Oxford  ; and  in  1855  was  chosen  to  rep- 
resent his  Assembly  district  in  the  State  Legislature. 

Louis  Lang  is  a native  of  Wiirtemberg,  and  was  born  at  Waldser,  March 
29,  1814.  His  father  was  an  historical  painter,  and  in- 
Lang.  tended  to  educate  his  son  for  the  musical  profession,  for 

which  he  evinced  a decided  aptitude  ; but  he  had  a strong 
taste  for  and  an  early  aptness  in  painting,  and  during  the  illness  of  his 
father,  assisted  in  the  support  of  the  family  by  painting  carriages,  designing 
monuments,  and  decorating  churches.  He  also  performed  in  the  cathedral 
choir,  and  at  the  age  of  sixteen  had  acquired  skill  in  pastel  likenesses,  of 
which,  during  four  years  passed  on  Lake  Constance,  he  executed  several 
hundred.  Having,  in  1834,  visited  Paris,  and  sojourned  awhile  at  Stuttgard, 
he  came  to  America  in  1838,  and  settled  at  Philadelphia  ; three  or  four 
years  alter  lie  went  to  Italy,  and  spent  five  years  successively  at  Venice, 
Bologna,  Florence,  and  Rome  ; returned  to  the  United  States,  and  has  ever 
since  resided  in  New  York.  For  two  years  he  was  chiefly  engaged  in 
decorations,  and  modelling  plaster  figures  for  ornamental  purposes.  In  1847 
he  paid  another  visit  to  Italy,  and  two  years  after  directed  his  attention 
exclusively  to  painting.  Lang  indulges  in  brilliant  colors,  and  has  exe- 


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435 


cuted  several  large  and  glowing  pictures  of  our  popular  holidays.  He  is 
fond  of  delineating  female  and  infantile  beauty,  with  gay  dresses  and  flowers, 
and  has  adventured  somewhat  in  historical  art.  One  of  these  efforts 
represents  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Margaret  Lambrun  ; it  belongs  to  Joseph 
Harrison,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia.  Another  subject  is  “ Mary  Stuart  distrib- 
uting Gifts  it  is  in  the  possession  of  R.  L.  Stuart,  Esq.,  of  New  York 
who  also  owns  his  “ Maid  of  Saragossa.”  His  “Sewing  Society”  was  in 
the  Wright  colledtion. 

Thomas  P.  Rossiter  was  born  in  New  Haven,  Ct.,  September  29,  1818. 
He  commenced  the  study  of  painting  in  that  city  with  Nathaniel  Jocelym 
and  in  1838  began  the  practice  of  his  profession  in  his 
native  city,  painting  chiefly  portraits.  On  the  1st  of  June?  Rossiter. 

1840,  he  sailed  for  Europe  in  company  with  Durand,  Ken- 
sett,  and  Casilear  ; studied  six  months  in  London,  and  travelled  through 
England  and  Scotland.  He  then  passed  a year  in  Paris,  sharing  apart- 
ments and  studio  with  Kensett,  studying  in  the  life-schools,  and  copying  in 
the  Louvre.  In  the  autumn  of  1841  he  accompanied  Thomas  Cole  to 
Italy,  passing  through  Switzerland.  Arriving  at  Rome,  he  took  a studio  in 
the  Via  Felice,  and  passed  five  consecutive  winters  studying  in  the  gal- 
leries, and  painting  a number  of  pictures  ; among  them,  “ The  Last  Hours 
of  Tasso,”  “Puritans  Reading  the  Bible,”  “Italy  in  the  Olden  Time,”  and 
“ The  Parting  between  Ruth,  Orpha,  and  Naomi.”  His  summers  were 
passed  at  Florence,  Venice,  Naples,  Switzerland,  and  Germany,  where  he 
copied  and  studied  in  the  different  galleries  and  schools. 

Returning  to  America,  he  established  himself  in  New  York.  Here  he 
remained,  painting  portraits  occasionally,  but  was  chiefly  engaged  on  a 
series  of  large  scriptural  pictures — “ Miriam,”  “ The  Return  of  the  Dove 
to  the  Ark,”  an  “Ascension,”  and  “ The  Ideals.” 

In  the  spring  of  1851  he  moved,  with  Kensett  and  Lang,  into  a Broadway 
Studio,  which  was  arranged  and  built  for  their  accommodation.  Here  he 
remained  two  years,  painting  “The  Jews  in  Captivity,”  a number  of  por- 
traits, and  other  pictures.  On  the  28th  of  May,  1853,  he  again  sailed  for 
Europe,  making  the  tour  of  England,  Holland,  Belgium,  the  Rhine, 
Germany,  Switzerland,  Italy,  Sicily,  and  Malta.  From  thence  he  went  to 
Paris,  where,  in  December,  1853,  he  opened  a studio,  remaining  nearly 
three  years.  He  here  made  the  study  for  a large  pidture  of  “Tuesday  in 
Passion  Week  at  Jerusalem,”  and  executed  “Joan  of  Arc  in  Prison,” 
“Venice,”  “Wise  and  Foolish  Virgins,”  and  other  works,  some  of  which 
were  exhibited  in  the  Exposition  of  1855,  when  he  obtained  a gold  medal. 

In  the  summer  of  1856  he  returned  to  New  York,  and  painted  portraits 
until  O dtober,  1857,  when  he  opened  a studio,  and  commenced  a large 
pidture  of  “The  Representative  Merchants,”  and  painted  “The  Dis- 
coverer,'” “The  Home  of  Washington”  (in  conjundtion  with  Mignot),  and 
other  compositions.  In  i860  he  removed  to  Cold  Spring,  Hudson  High- 
lands, where  he  has  since  resided,  in  a house  which  he  designed  and  built 
for  his  professional  needs.  Here  he  has  painted  “The  Prince  of  Wales’ 


436 


American  Artist  Life. 

Visit  to  the  Tomb  of  Washington,”  “ Coming  from  the  Fields.”  “A  Pic- 
nic in  the  Highlands,”  “Eve,”  “Morn,  Noon,  and  Evening  in  Eden,” 
“Palmy  Days  at  Mount  Vernon,”  “Washington  in  his  Library  at  Mount 
Vernon,”  “Washington’s  First  Cabinet,”  etc.,  etc. 

At  intervals,  during  his  residence  at  Cold  Spring,  he  has  been  engaged 
on  a series  of  compositions  representing  “The  Life  of  Christ,”  to  which 
he  is  desirous  of  devoting  his  remaining  years.  He  was  elected  Associate 
of  the  National  Academy  of  Design  in  1840,  and  Academician  in  1849. 
His  large  scriptural  pictures  of  “ Miriam,”  “ The  Jews  in  Captivity,”  and 
“ Noah,”  have  been  exhibited  extensively  in  the  South  and  West,  before 
the  war,  with  success.  His  later  exhibitions  have  not  been  remunerative. 

James  H.  Beard,  for  many  years  well  known  in  the  South  and  South- 
west as  a leading  artist  of  that  region,  was  the  eldest  son  of  Capt  James 
Beard,  who  was  the  eldest  son  of  Judge  James  Beard,  of 

James  H.  Beard.  New  Haven,  Conn.,  and,  as  far  as  there  is  any  record,  the 
name  of  James  descending  from  father  to  eldest  son. 
James  H.,  the  subjert  of  this  sketch,  was  born  at  Buffalo  in  1815.  While 
he  was  still  an  infant,  his  parents  removed  to  Northern  Ohio,  which  was 
then  scarcely  more  than  an  unbroken  wilderness.  After  trying  two  or 
three  localities,  they  finally  settled  in  Painesville,  where  his  mother  and 
three  sisters  still  reside,  and  where  his  younger  brother  William  was  born. 
At  about  his  twelfth  year  his  father  died,  leaving  his  mother  with  five  small 
children,  of  whom  James  was  the  eldest  and  William  the  youngest,  then  an 
infant,  with  little  means  for  their  support,  which  little  was  still  more  reduced 
by  the  dishonesty  of  her  husband’s  partner,  who,  taking  advantage  of  Capt. 
Beard’s  illness  and  his  wife’s  helplessness,  appropriated  what  remained. 
Soon  after  Mr.  Beard’s  death  there  came  to  the  little  village  a portrait- 
painter  by  the  name  of  Hanks.  Hanks  was  probably  not  a great  master, 
but  to  the  eager  and  inexperienced  eyes  of  the  young  James,  his  heads 
were  marvels  of  art.  .Hanks,  who  it  seems  was  obliged  to  turn  every- 
thing to  account,  would  not  allow  the  boy  to  see  him  paint,  but  would 
teach  him  for  fifty  cents  a lesson.  So,  begging  two  dollars  from  his 
mother,  James  obtained  the  benefit  of  four  lessons,  and  with  this  small 
stock  of  knowledge,  and  no  small  share  of  enthusiasm,  he  set  up  for  him- 
self. The  portraits  lie  then  painted  are  described  as  “ strong  likenesses, 
though  not  flattering.”  Flanks,  who  had  charged  ten,  and  in  some  cases 
fifteen  dollars,  had  painted  nearly  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  small  settlement. 
But  James,  whose  prices  were  from  three  to  five  dollars,  had  a few  commis- 
sions from  those  who  were  not  able  to  pay  so  high  a price  as  that  charged 
by  the  great  master,  Hanks.  But  this  field  was  soon  exhausted,  and  at  the 
age  of  fourteen  James  left  his  home  to  try  his  fortune  in  other  parts,  where 
he  would  not  be  subjected  to  such  formidable  competition  ; worked  his 
way  through  various  vicissitudes  to  Pittsburg,  and  finally  to  Cincinnati, 
where  he  married  and  settled,  and  where  he  formed  the  acquaintance  and 
won  the  friendship  of  many  of  the  prominent  citizens  of  the  South  and 
West.  Among  the  latter  were  General  Harrison,  Henry  Clay,  and  General 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


4 37 


Taylor,  all  of  whose  portraits  he  painted.  When  General  Harrison  was 
elected  President  he  appointed  Beard  bearer  of  despatches  to  the  Court  of 
St.  James.  He  was  preparing  to  depart,  with  Mr.  Clay,  intending  also  to  visit 
continental  Europe,  when  the  untimely  death  of  the  President  dispelled 
his  bright  dreams.  When  Harriet  Martineau  visited  this  country,  that 
estimable  lady  formed  a warm  friendship  for  young  Beard,  and  expressed 
her  admiration  in  her  book  on  America.  Soon  after  Beard’s  arrival  in  Cin- 
cinnati, two  of  the  leading  artists  of  the  West  died,  and  he  fell  heir,  as  it 
were,  to  the  entire  field  of  portraiture,  which  he  has  since  held,  with,  how- 
ever, an  occasional  aspirant  to  dispute  the  inheritance.  Many  adherents 
in  the  South-west  still  hold  to  him,  and  will  have  their  portraits  by  no  other 
hand.  In  the  earlier  part  of  his  career  Beard  confined  himself  almost 
entirely  to  portraits,  and  about  the  year  1837  he  painted  the  heads  of  John 
0.  Adams  and  General  Harrison.  The  first  compositions  of  Beard,  which 
attracted  much  attention,  were  “ The  Long  Bill,”  “ The  Land  Speculator,” 
and  “The  North  Carolina  Emigrants.”  The  latter  was  brought  to  New 
York  some  years  ago,  when  it  soon  found  a purchaser.  Mr.  Beard  has 
devoted  himself  more  to  composition  and  animal  painting  the  latter  part 
of  his  life.  He  confines  himself  in  the  latter  sphere  almost  exclusively  to 
domestic,  while  his  brother  betrays  a greater  fondness  for  wild,  animals. 

For  several  years  historical  painting  has  been  represented  in  Phila- 
delphia by  P.  F.  Rothermel ; his  facility  of  composition  and  his  aptitude 
for  grouping,  costume,  and  scenic  effeCts,  have  led  him  to 
produce  a large  number  of  works  with  a rapidity  incom-  Rothermel. 
patible  with  grand  permanent  results,  however  indicative 
of  talent  and  knowledge.  With  unequal  power,  but  frequent  fidelity  to  the 
conventional  requirements  of  his  historical  painting,  his  career,  in  view  of 
the  department  he  illustrates,  has  been  remarkably  prosperous  ; the  pictures 
he  has  exhibited  abroad  have  gained  him  “ honorable  mention,”  though 
confessedly  unfinished.  He  received  a commission  to  paint  the  Battle  of 
Gettysburg  on  the  walls  of  the  Capitol  extension  at  Harrisburg,  Pa.  This 
artist  did  not  begin  the  study  of  his  art  until  the  age  of  twenty-two,  and  he 
is  now  a little  over  fifty.  Some  of  his  most  celebrated  pictures  are  : “De 
Soto  discovering  the  Mississippi,”  “ Columbus  before  Isabella  the  Cath- 
olic,” and  the  “ Noche  Triste,”  from  Prescott’s  Conquest  of  Mexico.  His 
picture  of  “ Patrick  Henry  before  the  Virginia  House  of  Burgesses  ” is 
perhaps  better  known  than  any  of  his  productions.  In  his  “Saint  Paul 
preaching  upon  Mars  Hill  to  the  Athenians,”  a group  of  about  thirty  per- 
sons surrounds  the  apostle,  and  in  the  distance  looms  up  the  Acropolis. 

His  “ Patrick  Henry  ” belongs  to  Joseph  Harrison,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia, 
Pa. ; his  “ Beggar  Girl,”  and  “ Cromwell  breaking  up  the  Service  in  a Church 
in  England,”  are  in  the  collection  of  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New 
York. 

An  admirer  thus  alludes  to  one  of  his  latest  pictures — “ Christian  Martyrs 
in  the  Colosseum.” 

“ To  say  that  it  is  Mr.  Rothermel’s  best  painting  is  to  compliment  it  very 


43§ 


American  Artist  Life. 


highly  ; but  it  is  his  best,  from  many  reasons,  which  all  intelligent  lovers 
of  art  can  appreciate.  We  remember  well  many  of  the  fine  works  of  this 
artist,  but  none  that  boasted  so  much  beauty  and  possessed  so  little  blem- 
ish. It  is  in  composition  and  color  that  Mr.  Rothermel,  by  common  consent, 
is  admitted  to  excel,  and  his  composition  was  never  finer,  his  color  never  more 
pure  and  charming.  Upon  this  large  canvas,  with  this  noble  subject,  he  has 
had  ample  opportunity  to  use  all  the  resources  of  his  genius.  He  has  never 
chosen  a better  subject,  or  treated  one  with  more  energy  and  elaboration.” 

One  of  the  first  pictures  which  gained  for  Edwin  White  any  notice  was 
“ Age’s  Reverie,”  from  Coleridge’s  Youth  and  Age  ; it  is  in  the  possession 
of  the  West  Point  Academy  ; “ Luther’s  Vow,”  and  “ The 
Edwin  White.  Death-bed  of  Luther,”  were  distributed  by  the  Art-Union  ; 

“ Milton’s  visit  to  Galileo  in  Prison,”  “ The  Old  A<re  of 
Milton,”  and  the  “Beggar  Boy,”  were  also  purchased  by  the  Art-Union  ; 
and  these  were  his  principal  works  before  going  abroad. 

During  his  first  year  in  Paris  he  painted  “ Michael  Angelo  at  the  Atelier 
of  Titian,”  in  the  possession  of  the  Hon.  Andrew  D.  White,  of  Syracuse, 
N.  Y.  A duplicate  was  painted  a few  years  after  for  the  late  General  Wads- 
worth ; also  “ The  Visit  of  Consolation,”  painted  while  in  Rome,  for  the  same 
gentleman.  “ Raphael  at  the  Studio  of  Fra  Bartolomeo,”  his  next  pidture, 
was  painted  at  Diisseldorf.  The  “ Requiem  of  De  Soto,”  and  the  “ Sepa- 
ration of  the  Pilgrims  at  Delft  Haven,”  belonged  to  the  late  Simeon  Draper, 
Esq.,  of  New  York.  In  Florence  he  painted  a picture  of  “ Columbus  par- 
taking the  Sacrament  on  the  Morning  of  his  Embarkation,”  “ Holy  Teach- 
ings,” and  “The  Errand  of  Mercy,”  the  last,  for  Mrs.  Holbrook,  of  New 
York  ; his  next  work  was  “ The  Signing  of  the  Compact  on  board  the  May- 
flower,” and  “ Pocahontas  informing  Smith  of  the  Conspiracy  of  the  In- 
dians,” painted  for  the  late  Gen.  Kearney;  “Washington  resigning  his 
Commission  at  Annapolis,”  was  painted  for  the  Senate  Chamber  of  the 
State  of  Maryland  ; “ The  Evening  Hymn  of  the  Huguenot  Refugee,”  was 
in  the  possession  of  the  late  Mrs.  Lee,  of  Boston  ; “The  Landing  of  the 
Huguenots  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  John’s  River,  Florida,  1564,”  is  another 
of  his  elaborate  works  ; “Washington  reading  the  Burial  Service  over  the 
body  of  Braddock,”  was  painted  for  Henry  Sheldon,  Esq.,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I. ; 
“ The  Sacred  Lesson,”  “ A Morning  with  Luther,”  “ The  Pifferini,”  and  “ The 
Prayer  of  Faith,”  are  in  the  possession  of  Robert  M.  Oliphant,  Esq.,  of 
New  York;  “The  First  New  England  Thanksgiving,”  and  “ Bunyan’s 
Dream,”  in  the  collection  of  Abraham  Embary,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “ Major 
Anderson  raising  the  Flag  at  Fort  Sumter,”  belongs  to  Mrs.  Zabriskie, 
New  York  ; “ Raphael  at  the  Vatican,”  was  painted  for  J.  Couper  Lord, 
Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “ Murillo  sketching  a Beggar  Boy,”  belongs  to  Thomas 
Jefferson  Bryan,  Esq.,  New  York;  “The  First  printing  of  the  Bible,”  to 
Colonel  Arthur  B.  Lansing,  N.  Y.  ; “ The  Vision  of  St.  Stephen,”  “ Evange- 
line,” and  “ Hagar  and  Ishmael,”  are  in  the  possession  of  J.  Elliot  Con- 
didt,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “ The  Sabbath  of  the  Emigrants,”  and  “ Lionardo 
da  Vinci  and  his  Pupils,”  are  as  yet  unfinished.  Of  genre  subjects  and 


Portraiture,  Genre,  and  Historical  Painters . 


439 


portraits  he  has  painted  a large  number  ; the  principal  of  which  are  “ The 
Antiquary,”  “Thoughts  of  Liberia,”  and  “ Olden  Time,”  in  the  possession 
of  Robert  L.  Stuart,  Esq.,  N.  Y.  ; “Sunday  Morning,”  and  “A  Summer’s 
Afternoon,”  belong  to  John  R.  Murray,  Esq.,  N.  Y.  ; a repetition  of  “ Sun- 
day Morning,”  with  some  changes,  in  the  possession  of  Charles  Gould 
Esq.,  “ The  Fisher  Boy,”  in  the  collection  of  Shepard  Gandy,  Esq.,  N.  Y.  ; 
“ The  Country  Studio,”  belongs  to  B.  W.  Bull,  Esq.,  N.  Y.  ; “ The  Pearls,” 
painted  for  Henry  Day,  Esq.,  N.  Y.  ; “ The  Artist,”  in  the  collection  of 
Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  N.  Y.  ; “The  Strawberry  Girl,”  and  “ Doub- 
ling Yarn,”  are  in  Boston;  “ Tired  of  Work,”  is  in  the  possession  of 
Rutherford  Stuyvesant,  Esq.,  N.  Y.  ; “Hop  Scotch”  and  “The  Puzzle,” 
are  at  Utica,  N.  Y.  ; “ The  Beggar  Girl,”  is  in  the  collection  at  Vassar  Col- 
lege, Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y.  ; “ Grandpapa’s  Pet,”  “ Glimpse  of  the  Future,” 
“ Writing  to  Papa,”  “ The  Sunday-School  Book,”  and  “ The  Little  Model,” 
have  been  repeatedly  exhibited.  “The  Match  Girl”  belongs  to  William 
Fowler,  Esq.,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.  ; and  “ The  Studio  ” and  “ Contentment,” 
to  Edward  Clarke,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 

The  mere  enumeration  of  Mr.  White’s  paintings  indicates  his  industry  ; 
and  when  we  remember  that  all  this  has  been  achieved  between  youth  and 
middle  age,  and  that,  in  the  mean  time,  he  has  constantly  had  students  in 
his  atelier  to  oversee  and  instruct,  it  must  be  admitted  that  he  is  one  of  our 
most  assiduous  painters.  He  has  studied  faithfully,  and  acquired  no  incon- 
siderable knowledge  in  art ; but  the  historical  sphere  has  been  so  grandly 
illustrated,  and  demands  such  positive  genius,  that  perseverance  and  con- 
scientiousness alone  will  not  insure  triumph  therein.  Accordingly  Mr. 
White’s  more  ambitious  efforts  are  correCt  rather  than  effective  ; and  his 
talent  is  better  evinced  in  some  of  his  unpretending  genre  compositions. 
He  received  six  thousand  dollars  from  the  State  of  Maryland  for  his  pic- 
ture of  “Washington  Resigning  his  Commission  and  it  now  hangs  in 
the  very  room,  at  Annapolis,  where  the  memorable  event  occurred.  His 
“ Emigrants’  Sunday,”  is  a pleasing  and  suggestive  work  : it  represents 
a family  drifting  down  a Western  river  in  a flat-boat,  on  a soft  sunny  day 
of  rest,  listening,  as  they  float,  to  one  of  the  elder  sons  expounding  the 
Scriptures.  The  various  attitudes  of  the  sons,  with  their  wives,  children, 
and  old  mother,  are  sweetly  simple  and  devout— while  the  youngest  baby 
of  all,  who,  tired  of  “ meeting,”  looks  forward  at  us  over  the  gunwale  of 
the  boat,  leaning  on  her  hands,  is  a curly-headed  cherub.  In  his  picture 
of  “ Lionardo  in  his  Atelier,”  Da  Vinci  is  seen  seated  before  his  easel, 
which  bears  a canvas  with  an  outlined  head  drawn  upon  it.  Luini,  one  of 
his  young  pupils,  is  showing  him  the  sketch  for  a head  of  the  Saviour. 
Other  figures  of  students  engaged  with  brush  and  pencil  are  seen  in  the 
background,  where  a model  is  posing  for  the  work  Da  Vinci  has  before 
him  ; while,  on  the  walls,  or  upon  other  easels,  are  cartoons  and  sketches 
of  some  of  the  great  Italian  masterpieces.  This  picture  has  the  evidence 
of  the  artist’s  superior  knowledge  and  drawing  of  the  human  figure,  while 
it  is  picturesquely  composed,  and  is  harmonious  in  color. 


440 


American  Artist  Life. 


This  estimable  man  and  assiduous  painter  has  been  encouraged  by  some 
of  our  most  tasteful  amateurs,  and  has  striven  to  inculcate  the  practical 
knowledge  essential  to  historical  composition,  while  some  of  his  illustra- 
tions of  familiar  life-scenes  are  positively  true  to  nature.  A critical  lover 
ot  the  old  masters  says  of  him  : “ He  has  good  taste,  pure  sentiment,  in- 
dustry, and  a correct  intellectual  appreciation  of  historical  subjects  : there 
is  nothing,  however,  great  or  original  in  his  art.” 

Among  the  comparatively  few  American  portrait- painters  who  have 
steadily  progressed  in  their  art,  is  Thomas  Le  Clear  ; he  was  born  in 
Owego,  Tioga  county,  N.  Y.,  March  u,  1 8 1 S.  His  first 
Le  Clear.  instinctive  attempt  at  portraiture  was  made  at  the  age  of 
nine,  with  lamp-black,  Venetian  red,  and  white-lead,  upon 
a bit  of  pine  board.  Of  an  aspiring  temper,  at  the  age  of  twelve  he  at- 
tempted a St.  Matthew,  which*  made  a sensation  in  that  rural  vicinage  ; 
copies  were  ordered  of  the  boy-painter  at  the  rate  of  two  dollars  and  half 
each,  and  many  a head  did  the  urchin  dash  off  to  the  wonder  of  his  rustic 
neighbors.  The  unnatural  strain  upon  his  undeveloped  faculties  by  this 
premature  exercise  of  a genuine  artistic  talent,  without  the  wholesome  dis- 
cipline of  methodical  training  and  gradual  practice,  so  depressed  his  vital 
energies  that  young  Le  Clear  soon  had  to  forego  his  favorite  occupation, — 
a fortunate  disappointment,  as  he  thereby  regained  strength,  and  probably 
avoided  faulty  habits  of  execution,  which,  otherwise,  would  have  been  con- 
firmed. In  1832,  his  father  removed  to  London,  Upper  Canada,  a thinly- 
settled  and  ungenial  place,  where  Le  Clear  painted  a few  portraits,  but  met 
with  little  sympathy  and  no  encouragement,  until  the  Hon.  John  Wilson,  a 
former  member  of  Parliament,  recognized  the  latent  ability  of  the  youth, 
commended  and  cheered  his  isolated  labors,  and  sat  to  him  for  a portrait, 
which  was  so  successful  that  thenceforth  he  had  an  abundance  of  commis- 
sions. In  1834,  during  a lapse  in  the  demand  for  portraits,  and  when  he 
was  but  sixteen  years  of  age,  Le  Clear  visited  Goodrich,  on  Lake  Huron, 
and  decorated  the  panels  of  a steamboat,  under  the  direction  of  the 
owners,  whose  taste  was  exclusively  for  ‘How  art,”  to  the  disgust  of  the 
painter,  who  desired  to  portray  historical  scenes.  Eager  to  return  to  the 
“ States,”  he  left  Goodrich  for  Norfolk,  N.  Y.,  a small  town,  where,  for  two 
years,  he  lived  by  any  honorable  work  he  could  find,  painting  when  oppor- 
tunity offered.  Thence  he  went  to  Green  Bay,  Wisconsin,  sketching 
Indians  on  the  way  ; here  he  found  adequate  occupation  for  the  summer; 
and  even  Ventured  a part  of  his  earnings  in  the  land-speculation,  which  was 
the  mania  of  the  day  in  that  region  ; but  without  any  prosperous  result. 
Revisiting  London,  U.  C.,  his  friend  Wilson  advised  him  to  go  to  New 
York  city.  The  ensuing  spring  he  started  for  that  goal,  but  his  funds  gave 
out  at  Elmira,  N.  Y.,  and  he  had  to  resort  to  every  available  means  for 
subsistence.  This  was  the  most  trying  part  of  his  novitiate  in  artist-life  ; 
discouraged  and  needy,  for  there  was  little  call  for  artistic  work  in  that 
region  at  the  period,  the  death  of  his  mother  added  to  his  despondency, 
and  for  a considerable  time  he  had  not  the  heart  to  take  up  the  pencil  and 


Portraiture , Genre,  and  Historical  Painters.  441 

palette.  At  length,  rousing  himself  from  the  lethargy  of  grief,  he  went  to 
Rochester,  found  enough  to  do  in  portraiture,  and  felt  himself  steadily  im- 
proving therein.  In  1839,  Le  Clear  arrived  in  the  city  of  New  York,  an 
almost  penniless  stranger,  opened  a studio  in  Broadway,  and,  by  honest 
industry,  soon  maintained  himself  with  comfort  and  respectability.  A pic- 
ture called  the  “ Reprimand  ” gained  him  the  attention  of  lovers  of  art ; and 
it  was  purchased  by  the  Art-Union  in  the  palmy  days  of  that  institution. 
In  1844  he  married  a daughter  of  Russell  R.  Wells,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  Mass. 
The  following  spring  he  went  to  Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  and  remained  there,  con- 
stantly employed  upon  portraits,  until  i860,  when  he  returned  to  establish 
himself  permanently  in  New  York.  While  in  Buffalo,  Le  Clear  painted 
a few  compositions  ; the  “ Marble  Players,”  bought  by  the  Art-Union,  and 
“Young  America,”  painted  for  the  late  gallant  and  lamented  Col.  Porter, 
of  Niagara  Falls,  and  now  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Congdon,  of  Brooklyn, 
L.  I.,  were  deservedly  favorites.  The  “Itinerants,”  exhibited  at  the  Na- 
tional Academy  in  1862,  was  also  much  praised. 

“Young  America,”  which  contains  over  a dozen  figures,  is  remarkable 
for  its  skilful  grouping,  and  the  harmony  of  tone  which  pervades  it.  The 
chief  interest  of  the  work  centres  in  “ Young  America,”  a lad,  who,  from 
the  top  of  a drygoods  box,  is  making  a speech  to  the  boys  gathered  about 
him.  The  figures  are  drawn  with  a true  perspective,  and  each  is  evidently 
a study  from  life.  The  man  in  the  blouse,  the  two  boys  wrestling,  the  girl 
carrying  a basket,  and  the  old  woman  with  apples,  are  especially  notice- 
able. The  locality  is  a street  in  Buffalo,  and  the  man  on  the  sidewalk  evi- 
dently engaged  in  counting  up  his  gains  is  a portrait  of  a well-known  oper- 
ator in  stocks,  who  goes  by  the  name  of  “ three  per  cent,  a month.” 

The  “ Itinerants  ” represents  a boy  playing  on  a violin,  and  accompa 
niecl  by  his  sister,  who  has  drawn  around  him  an  admiring  group  of  listeners, 
each  one  of  whom  is  differently  affeCted  by  the  music,  as  is  shown  in  the 
varied  expression  of  their  countenances.  As  in  the  last-mentioned  picture, 
each  figure  is  a study  from  life,  and  is  drawn  and  painted  with  great  care- 
fulness. The  sentiment  of  the  picture  is  finely  preserved,  and  the  entire 
work  harmoniously  carried  out  in  all  its  details. 

We  have  spoken  of  Le  Clear  as  a signal  example  of  steady  progress  in 
portraiture.  A singular  test  was  afforded  us,  at  a recent  visit  to  his  studio. 
There  had  been  found  at  Owego,  N.  Y.,  his  childhood’s  home,  a portrait 
from  his  hand,  at  the  age  of  nine.  The  drawing  was  so  like  a boy  in  the 
exaggerated  outline  of  sleeve  and  shoulder  as  to  excite  a smile  ; the  draw- 
ing, of  course,  was  very  defective,  and  the  color  crude  ; but  a decided  indi- 
vidual expression  of  the  mouth,  and  something  characteristic  in  the  whole 
physiognomy,  rude  and  unsubdued  as  is  the  execution,  made  us  readily 
believe  the  assertion  of  the  family,  to  whom  the  coarse  old  canvas  belongs, 
that  it  was  “a  striking  likeness.”  To  this  native  facility  for  imitation  Le 
Clear  now  unites  remarkable  power  of  characterization,  a peculiar  skill  in 
color,  and  minute  authenticity  in  the  reproduction  of  latent  as  well  as 
superficial  personal  traits.  In  some  cases  his  tints  are  admirably  true  to 


442 


American  Artist  Life . 


nature,  and  his  modelling  of  the  head  strong  and  characteristic.  Whoever 
is  familiar  with  the  aspect  and  expression  of  the  late  Hon.  Daniel  S.  Dick- 
inson, of  Binghamton,  N.  Y.,  will  recognize  in  Le  Clear’s  portrait  of  him, 
in  the  attitude,  complexion,  eye,  mouth,  costume,  natural  language,  and 
expression,  the  very  man  himself ; and  whoever  has  often  seen  Edwin 
Booth  as  Hamlet,  and  well  knows  his  face  off  the  stage,  will  find  that  Le 
Clear’s  portrait  is  a masterpiece,  not  only  as  a resemblance,  but  in  point 
of  character,  individuality,  and  powerful  expression.  We  might  also  cite 
his  portraits  of  ex-President  Fillmore  ; Col.  Thorpe  ; Col.  Porter,  now  in 
the  possession  of  his  sister  at  Niagara  Falls;  of  Gifford;  McEntee,  and 
Hubbard,  the  artists,  as  illustrations  of  his  peculiar  fidelity  and  maturity 
of  execution.  His  portrait  of  Mr.  John  E.  Russell  and  Mr.  Dennison  are 
instances  of  firm,  truly  tinted,  strongly  outlined,  and  clearly  expressed 
heads,  with  vital  truth  and  vigorous  yet  refined  treatment — indicating  how 
well  Le  Clear  has  studied  his  art,  how  truly  he  recognises  character  as 
essential,  and  with  what  insight  he  has  succeeded  in  combining  the  ana- 
lytical and  the  realistic  elements  of  portraiture. 

Few  of  our  artists  exhibit  so  clearly  the  results  of  academical  study  as 
Henry  Peters  Gray  ; his  careful  and  sympathetic  knowledge  of  the  masters 
of  piCfcorial  art  is  evident  in  all  his  pictures,  the  best  of 
Gray.  which  have  the  mellow  and  finished  tone  which  dis- 

tinguishes the  Italian  school.  This  assiduous  and  grace- 
ful painter  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  June  23d,  1819  ; at  the  age 
of  twenty  he  began  his  art-studies  with  LIuntington,  and,  after  a year’s 
practice,  went  abroad  and  passed  several  years,  and  grew  intimate  with  the 
masterpieces  of  art,  especially  devoting  himself  to  the  Roman  and  Vene- 
tian school,  and  to  acquiring  facility  and  accuracy  in  drawing.  The  results 
of  this  patient  discipline  soon  appeared  in  the  portraits  and  compositions 
which  he  elaborated  with  skill  and  taste  ; of  the  latter,  three  at  once  won 
for  Gray  the  confidence  of  adequate  judges,  who  justly  regarded  him  as 
better  equipped  for  his  profession  than  often  is  the  case  with  young  Amer- 
ican painters.  “ Thou  Art  Gone,”  “ The  Roman  Girl,”  and  the  “ Billet- 
Doux,”  established  his  promise,  if  not  his  reputation  ; and,  on  his  return 
to  his  native  city,  in  1843,  he  was  commissioned  by  many  lovers  of  art  to 
execute  cabinet  portraits  and  genre  pictures. 

Feeling  the  necessity  of  a still  better  acquaintance  with  the  old  masters, 
and  craving  the  inspiration  which  only  comes  to  the  artist  in  Rome,  Gray 
made  another  visit  to  Europe,  in  1846  ; during  which  he  painted  several  of 
his  most  characteristic  works,  of  which  “ Teaching  a Child  to  Pray,”  “Pro- 
serpine and  Bacchus,”  and  “ Cupid  Begging  his  Arrows,”  are  memorable. 
He  sought  subjects  favorable  to  his  taCt  and  taste  in  delineating  fine 
contours  and  admirable  flesh-tints.  Of  his  later  pictures,  the  ‘ Wages  of 
War,”  and  the  “Apple  of  Discord,”  attracted  high  praise.  It  has  been 
objeCted  to  this  artist  that  he  is  too  conservative  in  taste  and  praCtice, 
renewing  obsolete  mythological  subjects,  and  giving  his  artistic  sympathies 
wholly  to  the  past.  But  the  skill  and  mellowness  which  mark  his  style 


Portraiture,  Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


443 


are  applicable  to  more  domestic  and  modern  subjects,  as  is  apparent  in 
his  picture  illustrating  the  Beatitude — “ Blessed  are  the  Pure  in  Heart,” 
and  Irving’s  touching  story  of  the  “ Pride  of  the  Village.”  “ Hagar  and 
the  Angel  ” is  an  exquisite  specimen  of  his  drawing  and  color  ; and  he 
has  executed  between  two  and  three  hundred  highly- finished  portraits — 
full-lengths,  groups,  and  heads. 

All  readers  of  Irving  know  and  love  the  “ Pride  of  the  Village,”  and 
remember  the  closing  scene  of  that  pathetic  story.  The  refined  sentiment 
and  skill  of  Gray  have  enabled  him  to  catch  the  spirit  and  reproduce  the 
expression  thereof.  His  picture  is  of  cabinet  size,  and  represents  the  in- 
terior of  an  English  farmhouse  of  the  better  class.  The  beautiful  and 
stricken  girl  leans  upon  her  mother’s  breast,  and  her  hands  are  held  by 
those  of  her  affiicled  parent,  whose  good-natured  but  commonplace  features 
contrast  finely  with  the  superior  nature  visible  in  the  form  and  expression 
of  the  daughter  ; herein  romance  and  reality  are  admirably  suggested  ; 
the  May  garland  hangs  fading  upon  the  wall ; the  house-dog  looks  pit- 
eously up  to  the  wan  face  of  his  mistress  ; the  old  man  has  turned  lov- 
ingly from  the  open  Bible  to  his  child  ; through  the  open  window  a sum- 
mer landscape,  in  Sabbath  repose,  is  visible  ; and  in  the  distance,  far  up 
the  road,  is  seen  an  officer  on  horseback.  Another  of  Gray’s  pictures, 
which  early  attracted  favorable  notice,  is  called  “ The  Greek  Lovers  ; ” a 
classically  draped  and  beautiful  female  figure  touching  a lute,  is  finely  exe- 
cuted. “ The  Apple  of  Discord  ” might  more  properly  be  called  “ The 
Judgment  of  Paris.”  “ The  Wages  of  War”  represents  a youthful  figure, 
armed  and  impatient  to  go  forth  to  battle  ; his  young  wife  hangs  on  his 
neck  weeping  ; on  the  left  is  a fallen  warrior,  grasping  his  broken  sword, 
and  the  widowed  wife  droops  over  a sarcophagus,  with  a sweet  boy  at  her 
side  ; the  relievos  on  this  monument  are  suggestive,  and  the  lowering  sky 
harmonizes  with  the  sad,  though  somewhat  academic,  eloquence  of  the  com- 
position. “ Sappho,”  “ Cupid  Begging  his  Arrows,”  “ Proserpine  and 
Bacchus,”  “ The  Good  Samaritan,”  “ Timon  of  Athens,”  “ Immortality 
of  the  Soul,”  “ Susannah,”  “Venus,”  Coleridge’s  “ Genevieve,”  and  others, 
are  treated  with  the  same  careful  finish,  subdued  glow,  and  graceful  con- 
tours which  characterize  those  memorable  forms  which  make  the  galleries 
of  Italy  attractive  ; faults  of  a technical  kind  have  been  indicated  by  the 
critics,  and  there  is  a class  of  art-lovers  whose  sympathies  are  so  ex- 
clusively with  the  modern  French,  English,  and  German  school,  that 
pictures  conceived  and  executed  in  the  spirit  of  the  Roman,  have  for  them 
little  interest ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  another  class  of  amateurs  are  wed- 
ded to  the  latter  kind  of  pictures,  partly  from  association,  and  partly  from 
their  intrinsic  and  historical  significance  ; and  to  these  Gray’s  style  and 
method  were  full  of  interest,  as  being  legitimate,  though  retrospective. 
His  “ Hagar  and  Ishmael  ” belongs  to  Jonathan  Sturges,  Esq.  ; his  “ Greek 
Lovers,”  to  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.;  his  “Judgment  of  Paris,”  to  R.  M. 
Olyphant,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  “Cupid  Begging  his  Arrows,”  is  in  the 
Carey  collection,  at  Philadelphia,  Pa.  ; “ Just  Fifteen,”  belongs  to  Marshall 


444 


American  Artist  Life. 

O.  Roberts,  Esq.  ; and  another,  “ Hagar,”  to  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  Esq.,  of 
New  York.  Some  of  his  portraits  are  remarkable,  not  only  for  a mellow 
and  harmonized  tone  and  tint,  and  accurate  drawing,  but  for  a refinement 
of  treatment,  and  a most  tasteful  and  effective  arrangement  of  drapery  and 
accessories.  Still,  Gray’s  efforts  are  unequal,  and  perhaps  the  complex 
taste  and  practice  in  art  now,  compared  to  the  more  limited  range  thereof 
when  his  first  works  appeared,  have  somewhat  lessened  his  activity  in  the 
special  sphere  to  which  he  has  been  so  faithful. 

There  is,  indeed,  something  in  Gray’s  best  pictures  that  gives  one  the 
feeling  of  maturity,  one  of  the  most  rare  sensations  of  American  life.  A 
refreshing  absence  of  the  crude,  the  glaring,  and  the  melodramatic,  lends 
a singular  charm  to  his  studio.  Here  is  something  like  discipline  ; all  is 
not  experimental  ; and  we  feel  the  comfort  of  achievement,  instead  of  the 
unrest  of  endeavor.  How  clean  are  the  outlines  of  his  best  heads  and 
figures  ! no  attempts  at  evasion,  but  so  true  and  gracefully  drawn  as  to 
gratify  our  sense  of  exactitude  and  completeness.  Gray  is  what  may  be 
called  a conservative  painter  : he  does  not  sacrifice  the  enduring  to  the 
temporary.  His  subdued  tints,  in  such  pleasant  contrast  to  the  gaudy 
hues  prevalent  in  our  streets  and  houses,  attract  the  eye  at  once.  They 
are  mellow,  and  linger  on  the  artistic  sense  as  old  wine  on  the  palate  ; his 
chiaro-oscuro  is  often  exquisite  ; some  of  his  portraits  have  the  deep,  clear 
tone  and  the  high  finish  which  are  the  distinction  of  the  old  masters. 
They  look  as  if  painted  to  last,  to  become  heirlooms  and  domestic  treas- 
ures, and  as  if  they  ought  to  be  hung  against  carved  oak  panelings,  or  in 
cabinets  sacred  to  meditation  and  illumined  by  a tempered  light.  There  is  a 
sweet  autumnal  spell  often  radiated  from  the  canvas  of  Gray.  It  maybe  a 
fanciful  idea,  but  his  most  characteristic  pictures  affeCt  one  like  his  immor- 
tal namesake’s  verse — correCt  and  thoughtful — and  with  a latent  rather 
than  a superficial  charm.  What  a deftly-grouped  study  is  that  of  “ Hagar, 
Ishmael,  and  the  Angel;”  what  a strong  contrast,  yet  how  much  pure 
harmony  in  the  composition.  The  rigid  gaze  and  oriental  face  of  Hagar, 
the  aerial  position  and  rich  blonde  of  the  heavenly  visitant,  the  bowed 
form  and  pure  tints  of  the  drooping  child  ; figures,  drapery,  color,  and 
grouping,  all  betray  the  patient  and  skilful  artist.  A nude  figure,  which  he 
will  turn  from  the  wall  at  your  bidding,  is  a triumph  of  color  and  form. 
Note,  in  a sympathetic  mood,  the  little  picture  called  “ Twilight  Musings 
how  cool  and  sweet  is  the  light,  how  graceful  the  loose-clad  figure  ; what 
a penseroso  attitude  ; how  the  tessellated  pavement,  the  dark-veined 
wood,  the  vase,  the  open  window,  each  objeCt  induces  reverie  ; and  how 
admirably  is  the  tone  of  the  whole  in  accordance  with  the  refleCtive  enjoy- 
ment that  steals  from  the  lovely  countenance  of  the  musing  girl  ! The 
London  critics  appreciated  this  picture.  The  “ Peace  and  War,”  though 
too  allegorical  for  popular  effedt,  has  many  of  the  excellences  of  drawing 
and  color  and  expression,  that  distinguish  this  accomplished  artist.  We 
are  not  surprised  that  his  cabinet  portraits  are  so  much  sought.  Many  of 
them  are  gems  of  art,  and,  when  associated  with  the  features  of  the  loved 


Portraiture , Genie , and  Historical  Painters. 


445 


and  lost,  must  become  greatly  endeared  to  their  possessors.  It  is  delight- 
ful to  have  a picture  adapted  by  its  size  to  a boudoir  or  drawing-room,  that 
combines  the  attraction  of  mellow  coloring  and  high  finish  with  the  per- 
sonal associations  of  a family  portrait. 

Richard  M.  Staigg,  like  Baker,  began  as  a miniature-painter,  in  which 
he  reached  a degree  of  excellence,  under  the  friendly  guidance  of  Allston, 
which  fairly  associates  his  name  and  fame  with  Malbone, 
the  endeared  artist  in  the  same  sphere,  whose  memory  Staigg. 
is  still  so  warmly  cherished  at  their  common  home — 

Newport,  R.  I.  Staigg’s  miniature  portraits  of  Allston,  Webster,  and 
Everett  are  memorable ; the  two  latter  have  been  exquisitely  engraved  ; 
while  the  female  beauty  peculiar  to  our  country  has  found  no  more  refined 
delineator.  Within  a few  years  Staigg  has  painted  several  remarkable 
portraits,  wherein  the  character  and  tone  are  masterly,  and  the  skill  exhib- 
ited as  delicate  as  it  is  truthful.  His  cabinet  coast-scenes  and  genre  pieces, 
especially  the  naive  figures  of  peasants,  school-children,  little  crossing- 
sweepers,  skaters,  etc.,  are  highly  valued,  and  at  a recent  sale  brought 
large  prices.  Staigg  is  a native  of  England,  and  came  to  this  country  in 
his  earliest  childhood  ; while  engaged  in  mechanical  occupations  at  New- 
port, R.  I.,  he  became  interested  in  drawing,  and  received  the  most  valuable 
advice  and  instruction  from  Jane  Stuart,  daughter  of  the  eminent  portrait- 
painter  ; she  introduced  him  to  the  kindred  of  Malbone  ; that  delicate  color- 
ist’s exquisite  miniature  of  “ The  Hours,”  as  well  as  many  of  his  portraits, 
were  loaned  to  the  young  student,  and  a better  school  it  would  be  difficult 
to  find  for  a novice  in  America.  Staigg’s  taste  and  praCtice  were  auspi- 
ciously influenced  thereby,  and  with  the  additional  aid  of  counsel  and  en- 
couragement from  Allston,  he  soon  attained  a high  and  deserved  reputation 
as  a refined  and  skilful  miniature-painter  ; his  talents  were  in  constant 
requisition,  and  only  of  late  years  has  he  found  time  to  expatiate  in  the 
more  original  sphere  of  scenic  and  genre  art. 

The  first  efforts  of  Staigg  which  won  him  recognition  from  artists,  were 
miniatures  of  his  sisters  ; one  of  the  late  Mrs.  N.  Amory,  of  Newport, 
gained  the  artist  the  advice  and  encouragement  of  her  friend  Allston  ; Miss 
Stuart  showed  him  the  beautiful  scale  of  her  father’s  palette  : and  these 
hints,  with  the  sight  of  Malbone’s  heads,  initiated  Staigg  into  the  praCtice 
of  art,  which  he  had  mainly  to  acquire  for  himself ; he  never  saw  any  one 
paint  on  ivory,  until  he  had  executed  some  of  his  best  miniatures.  Two 
of  these  were  taken  to  London  by  Stephen  Perkins,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  and 
shown  to  Leslie  and  Sir  William  Ross,  who  united  in  advising  that  the 
artist  should  come  to  London.  The  next  year  a few  specimens  of  his 
skill  were  sent  to  the  Royal  Academy,  and  given  a distinguished  place  ; 
among  them  were  a beautiful  miniature  of  Miss  Marion  Shaw,  and  one  of 
Charles  Codman,  of  Boston,  Mass.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  this  accomplished 
artist  that  his  earnest  desire  to  go  abroad  for  art-study  has,  again  and 
again,  been  cheerfully  sacrificed  to  filial  and  fraternal  duty.  Nor  is  there 
anything  to  regret  in  the  disappointment,  as  far  as  his  progress  is  involved, 


446 


American  Artist  Life. 


— for  that  has  been  steady  and  satisfactory.  Among  his  memorable  achieve- 
ments in  portraiture,  are  a miniature  of  Madame  Baury  and  her  grand- 
daughter— “ eighty  and  eighteen  ; ” others  of  Miss  Cordelia  Sears,  Miss 
Lyman,  Miss  Dwight,  of  Springfield,  Mass.  ; and  other  beautiful  young 
American  ladies.  Staigg  visited  Cambridge,  Mass.,  on  one  occasion,  to 
paint  Lowell’s  wife,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lowell,  his  then  venerable  father,  and 
Mrs.  William  Story,  wife  of  the  celebrated  sculptor  ; who  told  the  artist 
that  he  had  just  come  from  Europe  and  had  waited  for  his  return  to  Amer- 
ica, to  have  him  paint  his  wife’s  miniature.  This  is  a striking  evidence  of 
recognition  of  Staigg’s  excellence  in  this  department.  His  miniature  of 
Dr.  Lowell  is  admirable.  He  has  thus  delineated  many  of  the  leading 
citizens  of  Boston — David  Sears,  W.  H.  Prescott,  Abbott  Lawrence,  John 
and  Joseph  Belknap,  Mr.  Tilden,  James  Savage  and  his  wife,  etc.  All 
the  time  which  he  could  command  at  Newport,  where  he  had  built  a cottage 
for  his  mother  with  his  first  earnings, — and  which  place  was  his  cherished 
home,  except  when  on  professional  sojourns  in  the  cities, — he  devoted  to 
practice  in  oil  painting  ; and,  at  last,  executed  a portrait  of  his  mother,  and 
one  of  a foreign,  vigorous,  and  picturesque  ideal — called  “ The  Exile  ” — 
which  established  his  reputation  in  this  sphere.  He  then  went  to  New 
York,  and  there  painted  miniatures  of  Kensett  and  Mignot,  the  artists,  Mrs. 
C.  K.  Griffin,  and  T.  J.  Bryan,  Esq.,  the  latter  a masterpiece  of  expression 
and  color.  A series  of  crayon  heads  of  children,  remarkable  for  delicate 
accuracy  and  truth,  were  much  admired.  Having  thus  attained  remarkable 
success  in  three  different  styles  of  portraiture,  Staigg  painted  several  genre 
pictures,  which  were  immediately  recognized  as  naively  expressive,  simple 
and  true  in  feeling,  and  most  gracefully  conceived  and  colored  : the  sub- 
jects were — “ The  Crossing-Sweeper,”  “Reading  the  Illustrated  News,” 
“Skaters,”  “Cat’s  Cradle,”  “ The  Sailor’s  Grave,”  “The  Patriotic  Maiden,” 
“ Knitting,”  “ The  Love-Letter,”  “ News  from  the  War,”  “ Somebody’s 
Coming,”  and  the  “Beach  at  Newport— Moonlight.”  His  last  miniature 
was  painted  five  years  since — that  of  Mrs.  Eugene  Langdon,  and  it  is  one 
of  his  best.  Of  late  years  Staigg  has  had  his  studio  in  Boston,  where  he 
has  been  constantly  employed.  Among  his  later  and  very  successful  oil 
portraits,  are  a three-quarter  length  of  Mrs.  Charles  Appleton,  a nearly 
full-length  of  Dr.  Ray,  and  especially  the  portraits  of  General  Stephenson 
and  Captain  Grafton,  who  were  killed  in  battle  during  the  War  for  the 
Union.  There  is  a mature  tone  of  color,  a rich  vital  force,  an  individuality 
and  a harmony  in  Staigg’s  best  portraits,  which  are  rare  and  invaluable 
qualities  ; he  has  a fine  feeling  and  a delicate  insight ; there  is  nothing 
crude  or  exaggerated  in  his  style;  and  he  comprehends  the  refinements  of 
his  art,  of  which  his  ideal  is  exalted,  and  to  which  his  devotion  has  been 
single  and  earnest.  His  “ Cat’s  Cradle  ” and  the  “ Novel  Reader”  belong 
to  R.  M.  Olyphant,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “Two  Children  at  the  Sailor’s 
Grave — Newport,  R.  I.”  is  in  the  collection  of  R.  L.  Stuart,  Esq.,  of  New 
York;  his  “Little  Crossing-Sweeper”  belongs  to  J.  Tuckerman,  Esq.; 
and  a 7’eptica  thereof,  with  “ The  Little  Gate-Keeper,”  to  J.  Taylor  Johnston, 
Escp,  of  New  York. 


Portraiture , Genre , zz/vz/  Historical  Painters.  447 

A critic  of  one  of  the  Academy  Exhibitions  in  New  York  thus  estimates 
Staigg’s  contributions  to  the  genre  department : 

“ We  call  ‘ Cat’s  Cradle  ’ by  far  the  best  work  of  art  which  ever,  within 
our  knowledge,  came  from  Staigg’s  studio.  No  picture  of  sweet  young 
heads  by  the  tenderest  of  old  English  child-painters  better  deserves  to  be- 
come a classic  than  this  little  gem — and  nothing  can  be  simpler  in  its  means 
or  motive.  A girl  of  ten  stands  showing  the  ‘ Cat’s  Cradle’  trick  to  another 
a head  shorter  ; the  former  sweetly  experienced  and  demure  in  her  look  and 
full  of  world-wisdom,  so  far  as  cat’s  cradle  goes  ; the  latter  sweetly  absorbed 
in  the  wonderful  skill  which  her  elder  is  putting  forth,  and  modest  no 
less  than  admiring  to  the  tenderest  degree  of  little  girlhood.  The  taller  is 
a golden-haired  beauty  in  a basque  of  blue — the  younger  has  dark-brown 
hair  and  long  black  lashes.  The  flesh  tones  and  the  whole  coloring  of  the 
pidture  are  soft  and  bright  to  fascination.  ‘ The  Faggot-Gatherer’  is  a 
boy  with  a bundle  of  sticks  on  his  head — good  in  light,  but  too  undecided 
in  drawing.  ‘ By  the  Sad  Sea  Waves  ’ is  the  title  of  a pleasantly-colored 
picture  of  a young  lady  at  the  sea-coast — quite  too  pretty  to  be  left  long 
disconsolate,  and  too  modern  in  her  watering-place  dress  and  appearance  to 
be  mourning  in  dead  earnest.  She  will  flirt  that  pretty  handkerchief  at 
Fitz-Potts  the  very  next  time  he  rides  past  her  barouche  on  the  sands. 
‘Reading  the  Extra’  and  ‘Going  Home  in  the  Snow’  are  two  specimens 
of  Staigg’s  happiest  mood. 

Within  a few  years,  several  of  our  artists  have  devoted  themselves,  with 
more  or  less  success,  to  that  kind  of  genre  painting  in  which  the  modern 
French  school  has  become  so  eminent  ; comparatively 
few,  however,  boast  the  thorough  equipment  in  color  and  Hunt, 

drawing  which  gives  to  those  gems,  even  when  destitute 
of  much  invention,  a certain  artistic  value.  In  the  more  prosaic  and 
homely  phase,  as  we  have  seen,  Edmonds  has  produced  some  popular  but 
inelegant  works  ; Flagg,  a nephew  of  Allston,  aimed  at  more  refined  sub- 
jects with  some  success  ; Lambdin,  though  crude  in  execution,  has  a true 
sense  of  the  pathetic  ; but  the  choicest  studies  of  the  kind  have  been  made 
by  Hunt,  Ehninger,  Staigg,  and  Eastman  Johnson. 

William  Morris  Hunt  is  a native  of  the  beautiful  rural  town  of  Brattle- 
boro,  Vt.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  entered  Harvard  University,  but  fail- 
ing health  obliged  him  to  abandon  study  and  go  abroad.  His  fondness  for 
art  led  him  to  become  a student  thereof  at  the  Dusseldorf  Academy,  in 
1846,  his  first  intention  being  to  devote  himself  to  sculpture  ; but  in  a few 
months,  having  clearly  ascertained  his  own  qualifications  and  predilections, 
he  went  to  Paris,  and  became  a pupil  of  Coiture.  Few  of  our  artists  more 
distinctly  manifest  in  their  native  endowments  and  tone  of  mind  so  legiti- 
mate a claim  to  the  profession. 

Nothing  can  present  a greater  contrast  than  one  of  the  large,  dreary 
studios  of  Rome,  where  a solitary  artist  works  slowly  and  fondly  over 
some  favorite  conception,  and  the  life-school  wherein  the  student  of  paint- 
ing at  Paris  learns  to  draw.  Coiture’s  studio,  where  several  American 


448 


American  Artist  Life. 


artists  acquired  their  facility  as  draughtsmen,  and  their  aptitude  for  genre 
art,  is  situated  far  away  from  the  fashionable  centre  of  Paris.  In  a vast 
hall,  a crowd  of  young  men  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe  may  be  seen 
and  heard,  yielding  unconcernedly  to  a vivacious  mood  that  is  quite  the 
reverse  of  that  earnest,  contemplative  atmosphere  which  we  associate  with 
art-studies.  They  whistle  and  smoke  and  sing  and  argue,  sometimes 
blaspheme,  and  sometimes  narrate  or  dramatize,  as  the  humor  suggests  ; 
but  all  the  while  they  observe,  practice,  think,  and,  if  endowed  with 
the  least  skill  or  ambition,  learn.  Excellent  models,  valuable  hints,  the 
example,  encouragement,  or  criticism  of  the  master,  emulation,  sympathy, 
and  a certain  social  ardor,  quicken  perception  ; and  it  is  rare  that  a prac- 
tical facility  and  felicity  of  execution,  and  in  the  choice  of  the  naive , pic- 
turesque, or  dramatic,  in  life  and  nature,  do  not  result  from  the  curious 
combination  of  discipline  and  abandon  thus  realized. 

It  is  impossible  to  associate  with  Hunt,  however  casually,  without 
recognizing  in  him  the  artistic  organization  and  perception.  He  has  a 
wonderfully  quick  eye  for  the  picturesque  ; he  notes  the  characteristic  in 
people,  and  the  beautiful  and  expressive  in  nature  with  singular  emphasis. 
The  discipline  to  which  art-students  are  subjected  in  Paris  insures  them, 
when  there  is  the  least  ambition  and  fitness,  a facile  mastery  of  the  con- 
ventional requirements  of  their  vocation.  They  learn  how  to  draw,  and 
command  the  alphabet  or  language  of  art ; but,  besides  this  thoroughness, 
where  there  is  the  least  inborn  capacity,  they  are  made  to  feel  how  essen- 
tial to  a picture  is  expression  ; they  come  to  understand  how  useless  is 
skill  in  technicalities — fluency  in  the  elements— if  they  have  nothing  to 
say.  All  things  being  equal,  therefore,  it  may  be  predicted  of  the  eleves 
of  the  best  French  artists  that,  with  accuracy  of  drawing,  they  have  also  a 
clearer  and  more  positive  method,  less  vague  conceptions,  the  habitude  of 
distinctly  realizing  a picture  in  their  own  mind  before  attempting  to  put  it 
on  canvas.  Moreover,  the  practical  excellence  thus  derived  leads  to  a 
habit  of  close  and  wise  observation,  whereby  fresh  subjects  are  continually 
inspired.  Hunt  has  executed  several  memorable  portraits  wherein  the 
choice  of  attitude,  costume,  and  accessories,  as  well  as  the  force  and 
individuality  of  expression,  indicate  this  scientific  observation  of  nature. 
There  is  nothing  crude  or  conventional  in  these  works  ; they  are  full  of 
character — a result  obtained  by  the  most  simple  artistic  expedients  ; they 
are  also  remarkable  for  harmony  of  tone — for  a treatment  thoroughly 
adapted  to  the  subjeCt  ; and,  therefore,  as  works  of  art,  independent  of 
their  value  as  likenesses,  the  best  of  Hunt’s  portraits  are  choice  and 
charming.  But  while  so  many  of  the  fraternity  are  obliged  to  resort  to 
portraiture  as  the  most  lucrative  and  available  sphere  of  work,  the  genius 
of  Hunt  is  eminently  creative.  He  excels  in  the  naive , and  is  a kindred 
spirit  to  Frere.  Choosing  the  most  unpretending — often  the  most  familiar 
subjects,  he  throws  over  and  into  them  that  “ touch  of  nature”  that 
“makes  the  whole  world  kin.”  It  may  be  a ragged  urchin,  or  a demure 
little  shepherdess,  a lovely  chorister,  a pensive  deer,  or  a mischievous 


Portraiture,  Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


449 


rabbit,  that  takes  his  eye  ; but  he  gives  thereto  such  a natural  or  human 
significance,  either  of  naivete ’ sweetness,  or  character,  that  the  delineation 
is  too  attractive  and  significant  to  be  forgotten.  For  more  than  three  years 
Hunt  contributed  to  the  Paris  annual  exhibitions,  enjoyed  the  intimacy  of 
the  cleverest  adepts  and  the  most  earnest  students  in  art,  then  and  there, 
and  brought  home  with  him  a well-trained  and  richly-furnished  mind,  and 
the  dexterity  and  devotion  of  a genuine  artist. 

An  interesting  and  characteristic  memorial  of  his  studies  consists  of  a 
series  of  what  have  been  called  “ types  of  city  life  ” — well  known  through 
widely-circulated  lithographic  copies,  executed  by  the  artist  himself. 
Simple  and  true,  native  and  expressive,  the  merit  of  these  figures  is  per- 
haps best  indicated  by  their  suggestiveness.  Who  that  has  sojourned  in 
the  French  metropolis  can  look  at  the  “ Girl  at  the  Fountain,”  the  “ Child 
Selling  Violets,”  or  the  “ Street  Musician,”  and  not  have  his  reveries  at  the 
window  and  his  strolls  about  the  city  streets,  recalled  with  all  the  vividness 
of  reality  ? It  is  not  the  quantity  but  the  quality  of  visible  objeCts  that 
excite  associations  ; and  the  absolute  truth  and  nature,  the  very  simplicity 
and  naivete  of  these  humble  fragments  of  life,  isolated  from  the  vast  mul- 
titude amid  which  they  have  a characteristic  and  familiar  existence,  brings 
home  that  life  and  the  subjeCts  themselves  not  only  to  the  eye,  but  to  the 
heart,  the  imagination,  and  the  consciousness. 

His  “ Lost  Kid  ” is  a gracious  rural  image,  mellow  and  expressive — 
it  is  the  property  of  Sidney  Brooks,  Esq.  ; his  two  Girl-Choristers  not  only 
sing,  but  their  very  figures  and  faces  are  tenderly  imbued  with  music  and 
maidenhood. 

Again,  here  is  a patch  of  hillside  whose  tint  and  rocks  recall  the  vicinage 
of  Boston  ; a plain  old  wooden  domicile  crowns  the  declivity  up  which  a blue- 
coated  soldier  makes  his  lonely  way  ; nothing  can  be  more  commonplace 
than  the  scene,  and  yet  it  is  so  expressively  painted  as  to  tell  a story  and 
excite  a mood  at  once.  “The  Marguerites”  is  a beautiful  girl  slowly  test- 
ing her  love  by  nipping  leaf  after  leaf  from  the  flower  of  that  name — simple 
in  aCtion,  but  so  naively  true  to  nature,  that  it  has  became  a popular 
lithograph. 

His  portrait  of  a youth  who  died  from  illness  contracted  in  the  Union 
service  as  a Richmond  prisoner,  taken  after  death,  is  a mature,  finely 
modelled,  and  vitally  genuine  head  ; it  belongs  to  Dr.  David  King,  of  New- 
port, R.  I.  Hunt  has  painted  several  portraits  of  ladies,  wherein  the  posi- 
tion, costume,  character,  and  expression  are  given  with  the  highest  artistic 
taCfc.  His  ability  in  this  sphere  is  constantly  in  demand,  so  that  it  is  only 
at  intervals  that  he  can  work  out  a genre  theme.  He  has  lived  and  painted 
much  abroad  ; when  at  home,  in  Newport,  R.  I.,  and  Boston,  Mass. 

A picture  which  has  long  occupied  this  gifted  artist,  and  will  prove  a re- 
markable evidence  of  his  original  skill  and  feeling,  is  the  “ Morning  Star.” 
For  spirit,  genuine  aCtion,  and  true  character,  the  Horses  of  the  Sun  in  this 
powerful  conception  show  masterly  talent.  He  first  modelled  them,  and  the 
cast  is  a fine  study  for  sculptor  or  painter.  Some  of  Hunt’s  portraits  are 

29 


450 


American  Artist  Life. 


among  the  best  produced  by  native  art.  He  seizes  upon  the  natural  lan- 
guage of  his  sitters,  and  gives  the  expression  of  their  character  ; in  some  in- 
stances he  has  succeeded  in  the  latter,  where  other  painters  have  failed  from 
the  inherent  difficulties  of  the  subject  ; in  others,  his  likenesses  are  not 
satisfactory  ; but  he  has  been  memorably  successful  in  some  female  heads  ; 
while  his  portrait  of  Chief-Justice  Shaw,  Dana,  the  poet,  and  others,  are 
perfect  triumphs  of  the  pencil.  In  these,  and  in  his  impromptu  landscapes, 
the  influence  of  the  French  school  is  manifest  in  the  effects  he  produces, 
through  what  may  be  called  fidelity  to  expression  as  distinguished  from 
fidelity  to  mere  details,  although  the  brown  tints  prevail  too  much  to  be  al- 
ways true  and  pleasing.  There  is,  however,  a feeling  and  a significance 
seldom  attributable  to  the  subjeCt  itself,  but  eliminated  therefrom  by  virtue 
of  the  artist’s  insight  and  sympathy.  The  tone  of  the  sky,  the  texture  of 
a bush,  the  figure  of  a girl  or  a domestic  fowl,  the  most  simple  and  familiar 
scenes  and  objeCts,  he  often  renders  with  a naive  truth  and  reality  of  feel- 
ing, which  is  one  of  the  most  rare  and  racy  charms  of  piCtorial  art.  On  the 
other  hand,  a more  spirited  figure  cannot  be  imagined  than  his  “ Drummer 
Boy”  or  “Bugle  Call,”  two  of  the  most  popular  and  significant  piCtorial 
illustrations  of  the  war  for  the  Union.  Whether  dealing  with  the  animated 
expression  of  real  life,  or  the  native  phases  of  nature,  or  the  simple  expression 
of  charadter,  there  is  a truth,  grace,  and  power  in  his  work  that  instantly 
reveal  original  artistic  genius. 

Representations  of  poverty  and  illness  in  pictures  of  cabinet  size,  by 
George  C.  Lambdin,  of  Philadelphia,  have  again  and  again  made  an  im- 
pression at  Exhibitions,  because  of  the  skill  in  pathetic  ex- 
Lambdin.  pression,  both  as  to  human  features  and  the  still-life  acces- 
sories ; but  there  is  an  evident  lack  of  discipline  in  the 
technical  details  ; we  can  easily  imagine  a mature  training  would  develop 
memorable  results  ; the  superstructure,  but  not  the  foundation,  of  genre 
art  is  manifest.  We  feel  and  know  that  the  painter  has  something  very 
definite  and  touching  to  say  on  canvas,  and  he  says  it,  but  not  always  with 
the  clear  and  complete  emphasis  which  comes  from  accuracy  and  disciplined 
aptitude.  Amateurs  have  liberally  recognized  the  genuine  sentiment  of 
Lambdin’s  best  pictures.  His  “ Mother  of  a Large  Family  ” and  “ Initials  ” 
belong  to  R.  M.  Olyphant ; “ The  Reverie  ” and  “ Sunday  Morning  in 
Spring”  to  J.  Taylor  Johnston;  “Lazy  Bones,”  “Gathering  Cherries,” 
“ In  the  Librarv,”  and  “ Autumn  Grasses,”  are  in  the  collection  of  Marshall 
O.  Roberts  ; “ The  Little  Knitter  ” and  the  “ Blowing  Bubbles  ” belong  to 
J.  B.  Murray,  of  New  York.  In  a picture  by  Lambdin,  selected  for  the 
Paris  Exposition,  and  called  the  “ Last  Sleep,”  foreign  critics  have  recog- 
nized great  pathetic  expression  ; secluded  sunlight  and  other  points  are 
remarkably  well  given. 

His  picture  called  the  “Consecration,  1 86 1 ,”  represents  a young  volun- 
teer officer  parting  from  his  sweetheart,  who  kisses  his  sword,  and  thereby 
dedicates  it  to  freedom  and  victory.  Another  has  true  power  and  pathos. 
It  is  the  visit  of  a bereaved  husband  to  the  body  of  his  young  wife.  The 


Portraiture,  Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


451 


blinds  are  drawn  ; the  fair  youthful  form  lies  stilled  in  death,  and  the  hus- 
band, utterly  crushed  with  grief,  has  flung  himself  across  the  bed.  His 
face  is  not  seen,  but  we  can  imagine  its  pallor,  even  as  in  fancy  we  can  hear 
the  choking  sobs  with  which  his  bosom  heaves. 

For  many  years  American  visitors  at  Rome  have  enjoyed  the  hospitable 
guidance  of  Luther  Terry,  and  many  of  them  have  brought  away  or  ordered 
a picture  from  his  studio  as  a grateful  memorial  of  pleas- 
ant intercourse.  He  has  painted  historical,  portrait,  and  Terry. 
genre  compositions  ; and,  with  few  exceptions,  the  latter 
class,  especially  when  devoted  to  local  and  familiar  subjects,  have  been  the 
most  satisfactory  ; while  sometimes  too  ambitious  in  his  choice  of  sub- 
jects, he  has  given  us  many  pleasant  illustrations  of  Italian  peasant-life. 
One  of  his  latest  pictures  is  a curious  allegorical  subjeCt  ; it  is  intended  to 
represent  the  “ North  and  South  ; ” a female  figure  in  a sitting  posture  oc- 
cupies the  centre,  and  personifies  America  ; on  her  right  is  another,  recum- 
bent on  a cotton-bale,  slightly  draped,  and  with  tropical  fruits  at  her  feet ; 
while,  on  her  left,  a third,  completely  draped,  holds  a volume  upon  which 
she  is  intent ; it  needs  not  the  New  England  village  in  the  distance  to  indicate 
that  she  is  the  fair  representative  thereof. 

Of  all  our  genre  ^painters,  Elihu  Vedder  is  the  most  individual  and  inde- 
pendent. A scion  of  the  old  Knickerbocker  stock,  and  but  now  in  his 
prime,  he  has  pursued  his  artistic  way  with  singular  self- 
reliance,  freedom,  and  faith.  Whatever  defeCts  there  may  Vedder. 
be  in  his  pictures,  they  are  never  uninteresting,  rarely  un- 
impressive ; and  this  is  because  his  mood  and  manner  are  his  own  ; he 
follows  out  a weird,  fantastic,  or  ideal  vein,  which  is  the  reverse  of  the  con- 
ventional and  familiar,  and  yet  is  too  genuine  to  be  grotesque.  Perhaps 
no  one  of  our  artists  has  excited  greater  expectations.  We  instinctively 
imagine  him  about  to  surprise  or  enchant  us,  so  many  hints  of  the  strange, 
the  psychological,  and  the  poetically  suggestive,  are  given  by  his  compo- 
sitions. He  passed  several  years  in  Italy,  then  opened  a studio  in  New 
York,  his  native  city,  and  has  again  gone  abroad.  Among  his  memorable 
paintings  are  “ The  Arab  Listening  with  his  ear  to  the  Great  Sphinx,” 
•‘St.  Simeon  Stylites  on  his  Pillar,”  with  the  dangling  rope  of  communica- 
tion, and  the  lower  columns  in  the  distance,  on  which  he  had  lived  before ; 
the  “Lost  Mind”  wandering  among  the  waste  places  of  the  earth;  and 
“The  Lair  of  the  Sea-Serpent;” — subjects  which  indicate  the  original 
cast  of  his  mind  and  the  peculiar  sphere  of  his  art.  In  an  illustration  of 
Tennyson,  “ The  Monk  upon  the  Gloomy  Path,”  Vedder  gives  us  the  sea- 
shore, with  a cedar  bowed  by  the  storm,  but,  as  it  were,  visibly  struggling 
with  the  adverse  elements  of  destiny  ; a little  “White  Fortress,”  isolated, 
bare — Spain’s  red  and  gold  flag  “shuddering”  against  a stormy  sky — is 
wonderfully  impressive  ; the  Sea-Serpent,  coiled  slimily  on  a desolate 
sand-bank,  makes  one  feel  as  in  reading  ViCtor  Hugo’s  terrific  description  of  a 
similar  monster  in  Les  Miserables  ; in  the  “ Sphinx  ” picture,  the  cold,  early 
daybreak  reveals  a lonely  Arab  in  the  desert,  with  his  lips  at  the  mouth 


452 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  the  vast  mystical  image,  asking  for  the  great  secret.  There  is  an  irre- 
sistible appeal  to  the  imagination  in  such  works  ; they  strike  a key-note 
in  the  mind  ; they  kindle  the  fancy  ; they  create  a mood — wild  or  weirdy 
desolate  or  grand — we  feel  that  it  is  his  thought,  and  not  a mere  outward 
image  which  the  painter  portrays.  Such  an  artist’s  external  life  is  of 
little  interest  compared  with  his  mental  experience.  The  proof  of  the 
originality  of  his  work  is,  that  it  adhs  so  decidedly  upon  the  senses  and  the 
sensibility,  and  often  through  means  apparently  the  most  limited.  A critic, 
for  instance,  thus  describes  the  picture  called  “The  Lair  of  the  Sea-Ser- 
pent,” when  exhibited  at  the  Academy  of  Design  : — 

“ After  wandering  through  a wilderness  of  mediocrity,  it  renders  one 
speechless  to  come  suddenly  upon  so  much  originality  of  idea  and  power 
of  execution.  At  last  the  myth  of  the  sea  has  found  an  interpreter. 
Criticisms  on  this  painting  are  loud  and  various,  and  though  many  are 
repelled  by  the  steel-gray  monster  that  is  the  only  bit  of  life  in  a wonder- 
ful landscape,  all  are  obliged  to  allow  the  exceeding  ability  of  the  artist. 
Fancy  a background  of  silvery-blue  sea,  and  soft  transparent  sky  which  is 
a reflex  of  the  water,  a dead  calm  pervading,  allowing  scarce  a ripple  of 
the  water,  even  where  it  nears  the  land,  a warmth  so  tropical,  that  you  feel 
as  though  you  stood  on  the  equator.  In  the  foreground  lies  a sandy, 
sultry  waste,  stretching  out  into  the  sea  with  a wonderful  effect.  Tufts  of 
grass,  burnt  yellow  by  the  scorching  noonday  sun,  show  how  dead  is 
vegetation,  and  a cluster  of  scrubby  brush  is  the  centre,  around  which 
is  the  serpent’s  trail.  Back  of  this,  on  higher  ground,  lies  the  sea-serpent, 
coil  on  coil,  his  head  resting  upon  the  sand,  with  a dilated  eye  as  glitter- 
ing and  sultry  as  the  still-life  around  it.  Critics  have  exhausted  the  pas- 
sions of  hate,  revenge,  etc.,  etc.,  in  describing  what  they  consider  to  be 
an  ‘ evil  eye.’  To  us  that  eye  expresses  nothing  more  terrible  than  in- 
satiable, impatient  longing.  Here’  is  a creature  drearily  alone  in  his  lair, 
the  last  of  his  kind,  doomed  to  roam  the  sea,  another  species  of  Wander- 
ing Jew,  no  likeness  to  other  monsters  of  the  deep,  no  recognition  from 
them — a friendless  thing,  that  sees  itself  unlike  all  nature  in  its  solitude, 
that  seems  to  ask,  in  a dumb,  passionate  way,  how  many  ages  more  exist- 
ence must  be  prolonged  ? To  us,  this  pidture  is  the  tragedy  of  solitude. 
Many  are  disappointed  that  the  sea-serpent  is  not  painted  in  gay  colors  ; 
such  a serpent  would  be  contrary  to  nature,  which  gives  dark  coloring  to 
the  largest  animals  of  both  sea  and  land.” 

A correspondent  of  a London  journal,  recently  writing  from  Rome, 
says  : — 

“ The  studio  of  M.  Vedder,  who  has  just  arrived  from  Florence,  contains 
at  present  but  few  works,  among  which  I may  mention  a weird  and  novel 
representation  of  a scene  at  the  Crucifixion,  the  dead  portrayed  as  meet- 
ing the  living,  as  the  crowds  pass  to  and  fro  between  the  city  and  the  Cross. 
It  is  a conception  which  gives  much  room  for  striking  effedts  of  light  and 
shade,  and  the  depicting  of  contrasted  feelings  ; but  one  which  we  cannot 
but  wish  were  connedted  with  some  scene  less  awful  and  holy,  where  the 


Portraiture , Genre,  and  Historical  Painters. 


453 


free  play  of  imagination  need  not  be  checked  by  any  sentiment  of  religious 
awe.  A view  of  the  Convent  of  San  Miniato  is  very  carefully  and  effect- 
ively colored,  and  one  remarks  a neat  little  series  of  illustrations  of  the 
celebrated  fable  of  the  father  and  son  who  bought  a donkey,  and  having 
little  of  that  animal’s  resolute  independence  of  character,  endeavored  to 
please  every  one  in  the  disposal  of  their  purchase,  until,  at  the  expense 
of  the  animal,  they  learned  the  futility  of  the  endeavor.” 

Elihu  Vedder  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  February,  1836.  His 
father,  a dentist,  was  then  in  praCtice  there  ; but  soon  after  went  to  Cuba, 
where  he  still  resides.  Both  the  parents  of  the  artist  are  of  the  old  Dutch 
stock  of  the  Mohawk  Valley,  and  came  from  the  vicinity  of  ScheneCfady. 
As  a child,  the  little  Elihu  would  chew  sticks  into  brushes,  and  invest  his 
money  in  cheap  paints  ; at  the  age  of  twelve,  he  painted  a fruit-piece  of 
decided  promise  ; he  used  to  delineate  the  cat,  dog,  cow,  and  members  of 
the  family,  and,  from  the  first,  showed  skill  and  taste  in  color ; he  took  a 
quarter’s  lessons  in  drawing,  and  soon  after  went  to  Sherburne,  N.  Y.,  to 
study  with  Matteson  ; this  preliminary  discipline  was  followed  by  a visit 
to  Europe,  whence  he  returned  to  open  a studio  in  New  York;  during  the 
last  few  years  he  has  lived  in  Italy,  visiting  other  parts  of  the  continent. 
While  a student  with  Matteson,  he  was  painstaking,  patient,  and  earnest, 
with  a very  modest  estimate  of  himself.  In  company  with  Andrew  War- 
ren, a fellow-student,  he  made  out-of-door  studies  from  nature  ; but  his 
taste  was  for  figure-painting.  Ardent  in  temperament,  and  diligent  in  pur- 
suit of  art,  he  was  also  eminently  social,  and  had  a keen  appreciation  of 
humor.  His  first  original  attempts  were  timid;  he  made  several  copies, 
among  them  Wilkie’s  “ Blind  Fiddler  ; ” but  it  was  only  by  degrees,  after 
a year’s  study  of  the  rudiments  with  Matteson,  that  he  exhibited  that  fer- 
tility of  imagination  and  vigor  of  handling,  which  have  since  characterized 
his  works. 

W.  J.  Hennessy,  though  his  pictures  are  sometimes  deficient  in  vitality 
of  tone  and  purity  of  color,  manifests  no  ordinary  facility  in  that  kind  of 
artistic  aptitude  which  enables  the  pencil  to  outrival  the 
pen  in  telling  a story.  He  has  been  an  industrious,  and,  Hennessy. 
with  a certain  class,  a popular  artist,  in  some  branches  of 
genre  painting.  He  lately  exhibited  a little  picture  representing  a poor  old 
woman  picking  up  sticks  in  a forest  at  dusk  ; and  the  look  of  extreme  age, 
indigence,  and  toil  about  the  solitary  figure,  reminded  the  spectator  of  Goody 
Blake  in  Wordsworth’s  Ballad,  on  account  of  the  sentiment  of  privation  so 
keenly  suggested. 

Hennesy  has  been  a hard  student  and  industrious  illustrator.  His  pic- 
ture called  “Drifting”  first  gave  him  reputation:  it  is  poetically  sad  ; a 
pensive  figure  in  a lonely  boat  floating  adrift  through  a lowering  landscape  ; 
then  he  showed  his  humorous  talent  by  the  picture  called  “ Getting  himself 
Up  ; ” — a boy  in  a garret  vigorously  brushing  his  hair — with  genuine  boyish 
will  and  glee  ; and  in  the  pathetic,  another  work  indicated  equal  talent, 
touching  and  true  ; it  is  called  “ Morning  Devotion,”  and  represents  an  old 


454 


American  Artist  Life. 


woman  at  prayer  in  a garret.  Since  this  early  success  Hennessy  has  exe- 
cuted many  elaborate  pictures,  in  which  he  has  aimed  to  express  sentiment, 
or  illustrate  scenes  of  tenderness  and  humor. 

“ Under  the  Pines,”  represents  a young  lady,  who  has  apparently  just 
arrived  at  the  dreamy  age  of  sweet  sixteen,  seated  on  a mossy  bank  beneath 
the  shadow  of  a noble  group  of  pines.  The  expression  of  her  face  is  con- 
templative, as  if  she  were  gazing  into  some  pleasant  visions  that  her  fancy 
has  conjured  up.  Out  under  the  pine  boughs  on  the  left  is  a quiet  pool  of 
water,  reflecting  clearly  the  shrubs  and  reeds  upon  its  brink.  The  painting 
is  broad  in  its  masses,  and  the  effect  is  very  summer-like. 

Another  picture  is  called  “ Mon  Brave,”  and  represents  a lady  kissing 
the  portrait  of  a soldier,  whom  she  has  given  to  die  for  the  great  fight  for 
liberty.  “ The  Beach  at  Long  Branch,”  is  effective.  The  time  selected  is 
afternoon,  and  on  the  long  sandy  stretch  below  the  bluffs  are  gathered 
groups  of  ladies  waiting  for  their  dilatory  beaux.  Some  are  reading,  some 
are  sewing,  and  others  are  looking  dreamily  over  the  scarcely  agitated  water. 
The  afternoon  effeCt  is  well  rendered,  and  the  appearance  of  the  sandy 
beach  is  given  with  truth  to  Nature. 

“ Hennessy,  ” says  a critic  of  one  of  the  recent  Academy  Exhibitions,  “ is 
rapidly  rising  toward  the  foremost  rank  of  our  American  genre  painters. 
‘Gathering  Faggots’  is  chiefly  valuable  for  its  glimpse  of  brilliant  red 
sky,  and  the  fine  relief  of  a figure  against  it,  standing  on  the  crest  of  a 
wooded  hill  whose  base  was  in  deep  twilight  shadow.  ‘ The  First  Day 
Out  ’ represents  a charmingly  serious  little  experimentalist  taking  the  ear- 
liest steps  in  the  world,  surrounded  by  his  doting  and  anxious,  yet  delighted 
family.  The  expressions  on  their  faces  are  as  significant  as  an  utterance — 
but  that  of  the  baby  is  more  delicious  yet.  He  is  so  solemn — so  absorbed 
— such  a veritable  Columbus  discovering  unknown  territory  in  the  shape 
of  legs — that  you  wonder  whether  Hennessy  is  not  still  younger  than  he 
looks,  since  he  remembers  so  well  how  a baby  feels.  ‘ The  Height  of  Ambi- 
tion ’ is  a spirited  picture  of  the  same  baby,  a few  years  older,  marshalling  a 
company  of  wooden  soldiers  on  a table  to  the  music  of  his  first  drum.  The 
happiness  of  childhood’s  martial  phase  scarcely  ever  had  a livelier  exponent. 
But  by  far  the  best  of  Hennessy’s  contributions  to  this  Academy  is  his 
‘ Passing  Away.’  The  lovely  harmony  of  design  and  pathos  of  motive  be- 
longing to  it  can  hardly  get  just  suggestion  by  our  describing  it  as  the  pic- 
ture of  an  aged  woman,  sitting  in  calm  meditation  by  the  dormer  window 
of  a garret,  through  which  streams  the  pensive,  fading  light  of  an  autumnal 
sunset,  with  her  long-used  Bible  before  her,  and  the  wrinkles  of  many  sor- 
rows on  her  forehead,  but  the  pain  gone  from  every  line,  and  only  the  pa- 
tience of  experience,  the  hope  of  the  early  end,  left  behind  upon  her  features. 
The  story  is  told  with  the  strong  simplicity  of  real  genius.” 

When  a youth  in  his  brother’s  shop — a prosperous  hat  manufacturer,  in 
Albany,  N.  Y.,  George  H.  Bough  ton  was  known  among 
Boughton.  his  few  intimate  associates  as  fond  of  sketching,  and  full 
of  humor  and  sentiment.  He  sent  a series  of  illustra- 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


455 


tions  of  Shakspeare  to  a New  York  publishing  house,  and,  although  the 
proposal  to  issue  them  was  declined,  they  were  recognized  as  having  decid- 
ed and  original  merit.  Soon  after,  Boughton  tried  his  hand  at  landscape  ; 
in  1357  he  sent  to  the  committee  seeking  contributions  to  the  Ranney 
Fund,  a little  picture  called  “Winter  Twilight : ” it  was  highly  praised  by 
the  artists  for  its  sentiment,  simplicity,  and  truth.  Soon  after  he  made  a 
small  sketch  called  the  “ Lake  of  the  Dismal  Swamp,”  an  imaginative, 
yet  none  the  less  real,  landscape,  breathing  the  very  soul  of  desolate  and 
weird  nature  ; the  feeling  in  this  sketch  was  prophetic  of  Boughton’s  artis- 
tic development,  and  it  is  therefore  an  interesting  memorial.  It  is  in  the 
possession  of  his  friend,  Launt  Thompson,  the  sculptor.  From  scenic  to 
figure  pieces  the  transition  was  natural  ; but  herein  Boughton  was  con- 
scious of  his  inadequate  training,  and  he  went  abroad  to  study.  He  has  sent 
home  many  beautiful  evidences  of  his  progress.  Of  English  birth,  he  mar- 
ried in  England,  but  has  lived  much  on  the  continent ; he  has  had  a suc- 
cessful career  in  London.  No  one  of  our  artists  has  exhibited  such  genu- 
ine pathos  and  pure  latent  sentiment  upon  canvas  ; some  of  his  small 
pictures  are  gems  of  their  kind,  they  tell  a touching  story  so  naively — as 
their  very  names  indicate — like  “ Coming  through  the  Rye,”  “ Passing 
into  the  Shade,”  etc.  “ Coming  from  Church  ” represents  an  old  French 
peasant  woman  and  her  granddaughter,  slowly  walking  home  from  Mass  ; 
the  lonely,  snow-clad  country,  the  coarse  but  neat  Normandy  dress  of  the 
elder  woman,  and  of  the  fair  young  girl  upon  whose  arm  she  leans,  who 
wears  a large  bonnet  and  carries  the  prayer  book — the  artless  beauty  of 
the  young,  contrasted  with  the  furrowed  countenance  of  the  elder  woman  ; 
their  slightly  abstracted  air,  and  the  calm  simplicity  with  which  the  holy 
shadow  of  their  recent  devotions  rests  on  their  expressions,  and  is  re- 
flected, as  it  were,  in  the  still,  cold,  peaceful  landscape,  are  singularly 
pleasing  and  impressive. 

There  is  an  eclecticism  in  art  as  in  philosophy,  not  only  as  regards 
style,  but  subjeCt ; the  technical  divisions  in  painting  do  not  comprise  all 
its  possible  varieties  ; not  only  do  portrait-painters  often  excel  in  land- 
scape, but  adepts  in  the  latter  include  a taCt  and  ability  which  combines 
therewith  the  most  salient  traits  of  genre  art.  Hence  it  is  needful  to  go 
beyond  the  arbitrary  distinctions,  and  recognize  a multiform  or  ecleCtic 
genius.  Among  American  artists  who,  with  a decided  taste  and  ability 
for  landscape,  combine  therewith  the  naive  and  weird  elements  which  be- 
long to  the  most  expressive  kind  of  genre  art,  is  George  H.  Boughton,  of 
Albany.  For  a considerable  period  before  his  peculiar  merits  were  gener- 
ally recognized,  little  pictures  and  sketches,  contributed  to  casual  exhi- 
bitions, won  the  attention  of  judicious  observers  by  the  originality  of 
idea,  or  the  feeling  displayed,  both  in  treatment  and  choice  of  subjeCt. 
Among  the  earliest  of  these  were  snow  scenes,  rustic  figures,  glimpses  of 
humble  life,  bits  of  fantasy  and  sentiment,  indicative  of  a keen  and  tender 
sympathy  with  natural  language.  Many  of  these  were  instinctively  pro- 
nounced “charming” — that  word  best  expressing  their  kind  of  attraction  ; 


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American  Artist  Life. 


in  pathos  as  well  as  in  quaintness,  in  the  superstitious  as  well  as  the  tranquil 
side  of  character  and  life,  Boughton  manifested  an  insight  and  a skill  full 
of  promise.  He  improved  his  executive  talent  by  study  at  Paris — the 
best  school  for  the  discipline  and  development  of  his  special  gifts  as  an 
artist.  An  anecdote  of  his  life  there,  evinces  that  humor  which  almost 
invariably  accompanies  sentiment.  While  copying  a pidture  in  the  Louvre, 
one  of  those  egotistical  and  verdant  Englishmen,  so  often  encountered  on 
the  continent,  entered  the  gallery,  guide-book  in  hand,  and  lacquey  de place 
at  his  heels  ; many  students,  flaneurs , and  strangers  were  looking  at  the 
pictures.  The  Anglais  approached  Delaroche’s  “ Hemi-cycle,”  and,  ex- 
amining the  figures  through  his  eye-glass, — one  of  which,  in  costume  and 
figure,  bears  a striking  resemblance  to  Dante, — “ Ah,”  said  the  irate 
islander,  reproachfully,  to  the  valet  de  place , “ what  does  this  mean  ? all 
the  great  men,  including  Dante,  but  not  Shakespeare  ; just  like  these  in- 
fernal Frenchmen — left  out  Shakespeare  ! ” and  then  in  a loud  and  angry 
voice,  and  with  a threatening  gesture,  he  exclaimed:  “It  is  an  insult  to 
England  ! ” and  savagely  stalked  away,  to  the  infinite  amusement  of  the 
bystanders.  But  the  comedy  was  not  yet  over.  Boughton  gravely,  in  his 
turn,  examined  the  famous  work  of  Delaroche,  and  pretended  also  indig- 
nant surprise,  exclaiming  : “ Ah,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? all  the 
great  men  of  the  world,  and  Washington  left  out  ! It’s  an  insult  to 
America ! ” The  part  was  so  well  enadted  as  to  delight  the  auditors. 

Bough  ton’s  French  practice,  added  to  his  native  perception  and  genuine 
feeling,  seemed  to  complete  his  artistic  equipment  ; and  the  works  he  ex- 
hibited, abroad  and  at  home,  unpretending  in  size  and  simple  in  subjedf, 
have  won  the  most  discriminate  recognition  on  both  sides  of  the  channel ; 
their  breadth  and  softness  of  tone  and  color,  and  their  genuine  sentiment, 
have  been  repeatedly  designated  as  superior  and  satisfactory.  “ Through 
the  Fields,”  “Hop-Pickers  Returning,”  “Twilight,”  “Cold  Without,” 
“ The  Cottage  Window,”  “ Morning  Prayer,”  and  “ Passing  into  the 
Shade,”  are  subjects  which  demonstrate  the  scope  and  tendency  of  this 
artist’s  talent  and  taste  ; nature  and  sentiment,  the  familiar  but  suggestive, 
and,  above  all,  the  human  element,  is  what  he  seizes  and  embodies.  A 
leading  London  critical  authority  declares  that  Boughton  “ has  learnt 
the  secret  of  putting  natural  feeling  into  rustic  figures,  which  has  been 
almost  entirely  wanting  to  English  painters.” 

“ The  Ambush  ” is  a happy  effort.  Every  one  who  has  ever  seen  “ Young 
America  ” in  winter,  recognizes  at  a glance  the  wonderful  fidelity  to  nature 
in  every  detail  of  this  pidture.  Boughton’s  “Match-Boy”  belongs  to  A. 
M.  Cozzens,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; his  “ Scarlet  Letters,”  to  R.  M.  Olyphant; 
“ Moonlight  Skating,”  to  J.  Taylor  Johnston  ; “ Coming  through  the  Rye,” 
to  Lucius  Tuckerman  ; “Passing  into  the  Shade,”  to  W.  T.  Blodgett; 
“ Lake  of  the  Dismal  Swamp,”  to  August  Belmont  ; “ Coming  from 

Church,”  to  Sheppard  Gandy;  “Gypsy  Woman,”  to  M.  O.  Roberts; 
“The  Old  Story,”  to  the  National  Academy,  and  “ Winter  Twilight,”  to 
R.  L.  Stuart,  of  New  York. 


Portraiture , Genre , Historical  Painters. 


4,57 


“ Passing  into  the  Shade  ” represents  two  old  peasant-women,  the  one 
care-subdued,  and  the  other  worn,  but  cheery,  slowly  walking  over  the  dead 
leaves  and  under  the  faded  boughs  of  a woodland  ; the  November  tint  of 
the  foliage,  the  denuded  trees,  the  dim  chill  atmosphere,  and  the  infirm, 
pensive,  and  poor  old  strollers,  tell  the  story  at  a glance  ; nature  and 
humanity  have  here  together  “fallen  into  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf ; ” there 
is  deep  pathos  in  the  figures,  accessories,  and  contrasted  expression. 

An  old  peasant  woman  on  her  knees  beside  her  lowly  bed,  in  the  cold 
twilight  of  a wintry  dawn, — a little  girl  watering  flowers  at  a cottage  win- 
dow, or  Whittier’s  “ Maud  Muller,” — subjects  which  owe  all  their  effeCt  to 
the  feeling  with  which  they  are  delineated, — show  Boughton’s  affinity  to 
the  school  whereof  Frere  is  so  endeared  an  expositor.  One  of  his  pic- 
tures, in  a late  Academy  exhibition,  is  thus  described  : “ The  picture, 
entitled  1 Cold  Without,’  is  not  the  potable  of  that  designation,  but  an- 
• other  kind  of  attempt  at  raising  caloric,  instituted  by  one  very  old  and 
another  very  young  female  peasant,  in  a room  through  whose  diamond- 
paned  windows  the  bitter  cold  snow  may  be  seen  lying  in  crystal  powder 
upon  the  frozen  sills  out-doors.  The  old  woman  is  a typical  peasant  of  the 
hardest  worked  and  poorest  fed  French  class — dry,  meagre,  gnarly-faced 
and  brown,  but  gayly  attired  in  a tasteful  red  turban,  brown  sack,  and  blue 
skirt.  As  she  sits,  feeding  a reluCtant  stove  with  those  pipe-stem  sticks 
which  form  the  French  fuel,  her  little  grandchild,  ill-favored  and  tawny, 
but  bright-looking,  from  a finely  managed  Rembrandtesque  fire-refleCtion 
thrown  upon  her  face,  blows  sturdily  away  into  the  hearth  on  a big  bellows. 
The  same  softness  of  tone,  lovely  arrangement  of  color,  and  graphic  draw- 
ing of  forms  and  expressions,  which  make  all  Boughton’s  pictures  so  fas- 
cinating, have  here  their  full  opportunity  and  use.” 

Boughton  has  been  quite  successful  of  late  in  finding  a ready  sale  for 
his  pictures  in  London  ; they  are,  indeed,  exactly  adapted  for  that  domes- 
tic enjoyment  to  which  art  so  genially  ministers  in  Great  Britain  ; and  we 
cannot  but  attribute  this  artist’s  skill  and  naivete,  in  part,  at  least,  to  the 
free  experimental  initiation  he  enjoyed  at  home,  followed  by  the  admirable 
system  of  the  best  French  ateliers.  An  English  art-journal,  in  a critical 
notice  of  the  pictures  in  the  British  Institution,  thus  confirms  this  view, 
while  paying  a high  and  just  tribute  to  two  of  Boughton’s  recent  works  : 
“Amid  the  imaginative  unfeeling  pictures  of  the  commonest  common 
life,  which  seem  the  stock-in-trade  of  the  painters  here,  there  are  few 
which  show  study,  thought,  and  taste.  One  of  the  best  of  these  is  a small 
piCture  by  Mr.  Boughton,  entitled  ‘ Passing  into  the  Shade,’  which  repre- 
sents a couple  of  aged  peasant-women  tottering  along  through  a wood, 
painted  with  infinite  grace  and  feeling.  Like  all  works  exhibited  by  this 
painter,  it  is  very  French  in  style,  but  the  Gallicism  is  that  of  education,  ■ 
not  of  affeCtation.  A second  little  work  by  the  same  hand — shamefully 
hung,  by  the  way — called  ‘Jack  Frost,’  is  most  original  and  humorous. 
If  punning  were  allowed  us,  we  might  say  that  the  earliest  of  erl-kings  is 
painting  away  on  a window-pane  for  a canvas,  and  covering  it  on  a cold 


American  Artist  Life. 


45,8 

and  frosty  morning  with  lovely  coral  shaped  and  ferny  patterns,  for  which 
purpose  he  has  half  used  up  the  tube  of  flake-white  pigment  left  on  the 
window  sill.” 

The  life-record  of  this  refined  artist  is  as  uneventful  as  it  is  suggestive  ; 
he  owes  his  progress  to  the  judicious  culture  of  genuine  gifts.  Born  in 
Norfolk,  England,  in  1836,  he  was  brought  to  America  when  between  three 
and  four  years  of  age  ; commenced  art-studies  without  a teacher,  at  the  age 
of  sixteen,  at  Albany,  N.  Y.,  where  his  parents  had  settled  ; sold  his  third  or 
fourth  picture  to  the  New  York  American  Art-Union,  and  received  such 
substantial  encouragement  from  that  institution,  that  he  was  enabled  to  go  to 
London  in  1853.  He  studied,  chiefly  out  of  doors,  for  six  months,  and 
then  returned  to  Albany,  and  thence  removed  to  New  York.  In  1859 
Boughton  visited  Paris,  and  studied  by  himself,  aided,  however,  by  kindly 
suggestions  from  various  artists,  and,  among  others,  by  Edward  Frere. 
I11  1861  he  opened  his  studio  in  London,  and  has  since  remained  there. 

This  clever  genre  artist  is  now  in  Europe.  He  was  born  in  Buffalo,  N.Y., 
and  for  several  years  studied  there  with  W.  H.  Beard.  One  of  his  most 
careful  works — “ An  Artist’s  Studio  ” — with  a portrait  of 

C.  C.  Coleman.  Vedder,  is  in  the  possession  of  S.  C.  Evans,  Esq.,  of  New 
York  ; another,  “ Interior,”  crowded  with  still-life  acces- 
sories, and  a virtuoso  occupying  the  room,  was  quite  successful,  and  re- 
markably elaborate  in  detail.  Coleman’s  later  works  are  still  more  pictur- 
esque and  significant. 

Another  American  artist  found  subjects  for  his  pencil  among  the  dis- 
tinguished literateurs  of  the  French  capital,  whither  he  went  to  execute  a 
picture  for  the  vacant  panel  of  the  Rotunda  of  the  Capitol 
Powell.  at  Washington, — a commission  bestowed  upon  him  rather 

in  deference  to  his  Western  origin  than  because  of  prior- 
ity of  claim  in  point  of  rank  or  age.  Originally  intended  for  Professor 
Morse,  the  order  was  solicited  by  the  friends  of  Inman,  Huntington,  and 
others  ; but,  according  to  the  singular  system  of  applying  to  art-commis- 
sions the  principle  of  State-rights,  it  was  finally  awarded  to  a young  artist 
from  Ohio — William  PI.  Powell.  He  chose  for  his  subject  the  discovery 
of  the  Mississippi  by  De  Soto,  who  is  represented  in  knightly  costume, 
attended  by  his  soldiers  and  priests,  and  mounted  on  a charger — the  group 
emerging  through  one  of  the  leafy  oak  openings  upon  the  banks  of  the 
mighty  river  then  and  there  first  revealed  to  the  sight  of  European  adven- 
turers. Powell  brought  home  portraits  of  Lamartine,  Dumas,  and  other 
popular  French  writers,  and  has  also  executed  full-length  portraits  of 
Washington  Irving  and  other  native  celebrities,  besides  a large  number  of 
heads  of  private  individuals.  But  the  most  elaborately  finished  of  Powell’s 
pictures  is  the  “Battle  of  Lake  Erie,”  painted  for  the  State  of  Ohio.  A 
better  subjeCt  for  an  historical  picture  can  hardly  be  imagined.  Who  has 
not  pictured  to  himself  the  gallant  Perry  as  he  left  the  shattered  hulk  of 
the  “ Lawrence,”  and,  amid  the  flying  shot  of  the  enemy,  dashed  in  his 
boat  to  the  “ Niagara,”  brought  her  into  aCtion,  and  won  the  day  ? Cooper 


Portraiture , Genre , <3/^  Historical  Painters. 


459 


and  Mackenzie,  Calvert  and  Dr.  Parsons,  Bancroft  and  others,  have  narrated 
the  event  with  more  or  less  authenticity  and  eloquence.  The  moment 
chosen  by  the  artist  is  that  when  the  boat  leaves  the  “ Lawrence,”  whose 
bow,  encumbered  with  broken  spars,  and  overshadowing  a seaman’s 
corpse,  looms  over  the  frail  boat  thus  exposed  to  the  storm  of  the  can- 
nonade ; two  or  three  gallant  tars  cheer  her  departure  ; around  and  above 
is  the  thick  smoke  of  battle — through  which  the  spars  of  the  enemy’s 
squadron  are  discernible  in  the  order  in  which  they  had  fought  and  drifted. 
A shot  has  struck  the  water  under  the  gunwale  of  the  boat,  to  the 
evident  consternation  of  Perry’s  black  servant,  Hannibal ; the  others, 
though  more  than  one  has  been  wounded,  are  intent  upon  rowing,  though 
it  is  evident  from  their  earnest  looks  that  sympathy  with  and  admiration 
for  their  heroic  leader,  swell  their  hearts  : he — the  central  figure,  the  soul 
of  the  piflure — is  standing  with  outstretched  arm,  and  resolute  and  con- 
fident look,  unconscious  of  his  handsome  little  brother^  who  tugs  at  his 
dress,  or  of  the  deprecating  gesture  of  the  helmsman  to  make  him  sit  down 
and  avoid  the  terrible  exposure,  of  which,  in  the  excitement  of  the  mo- 
ment, he  is  unaware;  he  is  evidently  just  from  the  heat  of  the  aCtion, 
having  his  coat  thrown  open,  his  collar  loose,  his  hair  flying  in  the  breeze, 
and  his  brave  heart  absorbed  in  the  fight ; he  has  evidently  caught  up  his 
sword  from  the  binnacle  or  deck,  seized  his  commodore’s  pennant,  and 
sprung  into  the  boat  to  redeem  the  day.  The  men  are  genuine  nautical 
types — models  from  the  Brooklyn  Navv-yard  ; and,  in  every  detail,  of  rig, 
uniform,  attitude,  emblem,  etc.,  the  artist  has  availed  himself  of  authentic 
materials  and  the  best  professional  counsel ; and  thus  obtained  an  effec- 
tive, harmonious,  and  inspiring  result. 

Powell’s  portraits  of  Generals  Anderson  and  McClennan  are  in  the  New 
York  City  Hall  ; his  “ Landing  of  the  Pilgrims  ” and  “ Scott’s  Entry  into 
the  City  of  Rome,”  belong  to  M.  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  His 
portraits  of  private  individuals  are  numerous. 

Joseph  Ames  is  a native  of  Rosbury,  New  Hampshire,  where  his  grand- 
father was  the  original  “ lord  of  the  manor.”  When  twelve  years  old  he 
attempted  a portrait  of  his  little  brother  on  apiece  of  board 
in  the  barn— which  crude  experiment  showed  an  aptness  Ames, 
for  likeness  in  amusing  contrast  to  lack  of  knowledge  in 
artistic  method.  Soon  after  an  artist  lent  him  a picture  to  copy  ; and,  by 
practice,  his  facility  so  increased  that  he  soon  embarked  on  an  adtive  career. 
In  Baltimore  and  Boston  he  found,  for  several  years,  more  sitters  than  he 
could  accommodate  ; as  well  as  frequent  orders  from  New  York  and  Wash- 
ington. Among  his  popular  portraits,  often  repeated,  are  those  of  Webster, 
Rachel,  and  Choate.  His  “Death  of  Webster”  has  been  engraved;  his 
portrait  of  Pius  IX.  was  much  admired;  and  of  fancy  pieces  his  delinea- 
tion of  types  of  rustic  New  England  beauty,  like  “ Maud  Muller,”  and  the 
“ Old  Stone  Pitcher,  or  Girl  coming  from  the  Well,”  have  been  favorites. 
His  portrait  ol  President  Felton  is  at  Harvard  College  ; that  of  the  prima 
donna  Marietta  Gazzaniga  is  a good  example.  Ames  paints  on  an  aver- 


460 


American  Artist  Life. 


age  seventy-five  portraits  in  a year ; of  course  they  often  lack  high  finish  ; 
but  his  fresh  and  bright  tints  and  frequent  success  in  likeness— even  the 
rapidity  of  his  execution — contribute  to  his  prosperous  activity. 

A.  H.  Wenzler,  a Dane  by  birth,  but  long  a citizen  of  New  York,  whither 
he  came  in  boyhood,  is  as  devoted  a student  of  art  as  is  to  be  found  in  that 
metropolis.  His  standard  is  high,  his  zeal  unremitted. 

Wenzler.  In  spirit  he  is  kindred  with  the  most  self-devoted  of  his 
profession.  No  one  has  painted  more  exquisite  minia- 
tures, with  such  lovely  flesh-tints,  such  fine  drawing,  and  delicate  color. 
They  remind  us  of  the  chefs  (T  oeuvre  of  that  branch  of  art,  hoarded  in  the 
caskets  of  beauty  and  worn  on  the  bosom  of  affeCtion.  One  of  his  last 
triumphs  in  a department  of  art  where  mediocrity  is  so  common  and  the 
highest  success  rare,  is  a portrait  of  the  highly-endowed  and  deeply-la- 
mented son  of  our  respedted  fellow-citizen,  Dr.  Francis.  Although  depend- 
ent on  a daguewotype  and  his  affectionate  memory  alone,  so  perfedt  in 
expression,  so  life-like  in  lineament,  so  characteristic  to  the  minutest  detail, 
is  this  beautiful  work,  that  we  feel,  as  we  examine  it,  that  love  inspired 
what  genius  conceived,  and  thus  reproduced  the  living  image  so  endeared, 
to  console  hearts  otherwise  indeed  bereft  of  all  £>ut  the  memory  of  his 
nobleness  and  his  worth.  The  oil  portraits  of  this  artist  have  won  great 
admiration  for  the  extreme  reality  of  their  details  and  for  their  excellent 
drawing  : in  tone  and  hue  they  have  been  more  experimental,  and  therefore 
less  satisfactory  ; there  is  an  extremely  literal  imitation  of  local  facts  almost 
photographic  in  its  character. 

A favorite  young  artist  of  Ohio,  a State  remarkable  for  the  number  of 
gifted  sculptors  and  painters  to  whom  it  has  either  given  birth  or  encour- 
agement, is  Thomas  Buchanan  Read,  who  is,  perhaps, 
Read.  better  known  by  his  verses  than  his  pictures,  both  of  which 
are  remarkable  for  a certain  grace  of  conception  and  re- 
finement of  execution.  He  was  born  in  Chester  County,  Pennsylvania, 
March  12,  1822,  removed  to  Cincinnati  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  entered  a 
sculptor’s  studio,  but  soon  devoted  himself  to  painting.  In  1841  he  estab- 
lished himself  as  a portrait-painter  in  New  York,  and  subsequently  in 
Boston  and  Philadelphia.  In  1850  he  went  to  Europe,  and  resided  for 
several  years  in  Rome  and  Florence.  Of  his  ideal  pictures  the  u Lost  Pleiad  ” 
and  the  “ Water  Sprite  ” are  the  most  characteristic.  The  tone  of  mind 
of  this  artist  is  essentially  poetical ; he  has  strong  sympathies  with  beauty, 
both  in  nature  and  in  expression,  which  find  fluent  utterance  in  verse,  of 
which  he  has  published  several  volumes. 

His  portrait  of  George  Peabody  is  in  the  Peabody  Institute,  Baltimore, 
Md.  ; and  those  of  Longfellow’s  children,  in  a group,  are  well  known 
through  a popular  photograph.  He  executed  several  fanciful  conceptions  ; 
and  his  powers  of  expression  seemed  to  find  vent  as  readily  in  language 
as  in  color.  His  first  local  reputation  was  acquired  in  portraiture  ; his 
alternate  residence  at  the  West  and  North,  and  his  sojourns  in  Europe, 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


461 


have  somewhat  scattered  the  evidences  of  his  art-industry ; and  although 
he  continues  to  practise  as  a painter,  he  is  best  known  as  a writer  of  grace- 
ful and  graphic  verse. 

Christopher  Pearse,  son  of  the  late  Chief-Justice  Cranch,  of  Washington, 
D.  C.,  is  another  instance  of  artistic  vocation  springing  from  a love  of 
beauty  that  dominates  mere  intellectual  culture  and  profes- 
sional education  ; like  Greenough  and  Story  he  was  the  Cranch. 
recipient  of  a college  education,  and  destined  for  a learned 
profession.  Born  in  Alexandria,  Va.,  in  1813,  he  was  graduated  at  Colum- 
bian College,  Washington,  in  1831  : for  three  years  he  studied  theology  at 
the  Divinity  School  in  Cambridge,  Mass.  ; became  a licentiate,  and  after 
preaching  for  some  time,  withdrew  from  the  ministry  in  1842,  and  devoted 
himself  to  landscape  art.  As  a writer  his  tendencies  are  aesthetic  rather 
than  theological ; he  is  a keen  and  loving  observer  of  nature  ; and  sentiment 
colored  all  his  views  with  a light  born  of  contemplative  sympathy  with  the 
latent  beauty  of  life  and  the  universe  ; moreover  he  experienced,  as  do  all 
men  thus  constituted,  an  inaptitude  for  conventional  conformity ; he  is 
sensitive  and  imaginative  rather  than  practical  ; and,  by  temperament  as 
well  as  taste,  is  an  artist.  He  first  found  expression  in  verse  ; and  many 
of  his  descriptive  and  psychological  poems,  as  well  as  two  ingenious  fairy 
tales  for  children,  which  he  also  illustrated,  indicate  a fancifulness  and  feel- 
ing which  demand  the  scope  and  habitual  sustenance  that  art  alone  yields. 
Cranch  was  a contributor  to  that  memorable  organ  of  the  New  England 
transcendentalists — the  “ Dial ; ” he  has  much  affinity  with  German  litera 
ture  ; in  1854  he  published  a volume  of  poems.  After  residing  a while  in 
New  York,  he  visited  Italy,  and  remained  there  several  years  ; returning  to 
the  United  States,  in  1853,  he  renewed  his  sojourn  in  Europe — residing 
chiefly  at  Paris.  His  time  has  been  divided  between  the  French  metropolis 
and  the  different  cities  of  Italy.  Perhaps  Sorrento  has  best  ministered  to 
his  love  of  the  beautiful  in  nature,  as  expressed  in  art ; he  has,  during  his 
ten  years  of  exile,  executed  many  admirable  landscapes  ; those  devoted  to 
Swiss  and  Italian  scenery  have  been  justly  admired  for  their  grace,  quiet 
truth,  and  ideal  charm  : there  is,  perhaps,  a want  of  emphasis  in  the  land- 
scapes of  Cranch,  especially  in  the  details  of  rock  and  foliage  ; but  in  the 
more  ethereal  elements,  he  often  exhibits  a skill  and  feeling  which  win  the 
spectator  ; his  clouds,  atmosphere,  and  all  the  traits  which  bear  generaliza- 
tion, evidence  the  hand  of  one  in  true  though  often  vague  relation  with  na- 
ture, especially  in  her  loveliest  and  most  serene  moods.  Since  his  return^ 
from  Europe  Cranch  has  resided  in  New  York,  and  at  Fishkill,  Dutchess 
County.  Fie  has  painted  numerous  views  of  Venice,  several  fruit-pieces, 
and  other  compositions,  with  attractive  little  bits  of  local  scenery. 

Since  Ehninger’s  last  return  from  Europe, — where  he  left  many  clever 
fruits  of  his  pencil — he  has  completed  several  pictures, 
which  have  a force  and  finish  that  mark  his  practical  ad-  Ehninger. 

vance  ; moreover,  they  are  of  a kind  which  few  of  our  artists 


4 62 


American  Artist  Life. 

have  attempted  with  any  success,  and  represent  some  of  the  most  charm- 
ing phases  and  features  of  the  English  school.  The  subjects  are  taken 
from  familiar  rural  experience,  and  bring  home  to  the  sympathetic  mind 
the  sensation  and  the  sentiment  of  country  life  ; there  is  a flavor  about 
them  which  reminds  us  of  Moreland  and  Gainsborough.  Take,  for  in- 
stance, an  English  harvest  field — how  sweetly  and  truly  the  light  falls  on 
the  golden  sheaves  and  the  patient  farm-horses  ; how  natural  and  English 
are  the  figures  of  the  rustic  laborers  pitching  the  grain-shocks  into  the 
cart,  the  woman  and  the  child  seated  in  the  pleasant  field,  and  the  whole 
air  of  peace  and  plenty  ! In  drawing,  color,  composition,  and  feeling,  this 
pidture  is  most  pleasing  and  masterly.  Not  less  so  is  the  American  scene 
of  a farmer  halting  his  plough  in  the  furrow,  while  his  gudewife  sets  the 
baby  on  the  horse  ; or  the  naive , expressive  donkeys  in  another  rural  sub- 
ject— all  conceived  with  simplicity  and  truth,  and  adapted  much  better 
than  melodramatic  and  exaggerated  sentimental  pictures,  as  ornaments  to 
our  drawing-rooms,  from  the  peaceful  and  salubrious  tone  they  breathe,  and 
the  careful  execution  and  genial  spirit  they  exhibit. 

Our  estimate  of  his  scope  and  abilities  made  some  years  since  is  con- 
firmed by  his  recent  works.  We  then  said  : — 

“ Not  only  has  he  proved  a faithful  student  of  the  elements  of  his  art,  but 
has  attained  a degree  of  practical  skill,  and  manifested  an  individuality 
rarely  achieved  in  so  brief  a period.  Wisely  devoting  himself  to  drawing, 
under  the  eye  of  a thoroughly  educated  French  artist,  he  has  avoided  the 
careless  habits  and  incomplete  discipline  which  so  hamper  and  limit  the 
success  of  most  of  our  young  painters.  Some  of  Ehninger’s  figures  are 
outlined  and  foreshortened  with  the  correctness  of  an  adept ; one  can  see 
in  them  a well-drilled  hand  ; but  what  is  still  more  pleasant  to  recognize, 
he  knows  how  to  seize  on  the  principles  of  expression.  His  forms  and 
faces  have  a decided  meaning  ; there  is  positive  character  in  his  pictures. 
Somewhat  of  these  traits  might  have  been  confidently  predicted  from  the 
merit  of  his  early  sketches.  They  are  finely  toned  : he  knows  the  value 
of  neutral  tints  ; and  manages  light  and  shade  with  a most  pleasing  effect. 
Here,  for  instance,  is  a somewhat  hackneyed  subject,  ‘ The  Yankee  Ped- 
dler; ’ but  there  is  nothing  Yankee  in  it  but  the  subject ; a patient  handling 
and  an  expressive  significance  are  manifest ; nothing  crude,  hasty,  or  ex- 
travagant. Look  at  the  two  girls  examining  a piece  of  stuff ; how  charac- 
teristic the  faces  and  attitudes  ! See  the  baby  stretch  over  its  mother’s 
shoulder  (while  she  bargains  for  the  coffee-mill  held  temptingly  up  by  the 
peddler),  and  strive  to  reach  the  trumpet  the  little  brother  holds  to  his 
lips  ; mark  the  boy’s  features  in  the  shadow  of  his  hat,  and  the  heads  of  the 
horses  ; they  are  full  of  truth  and  character  ; the  general  artistic  effedt  is 
almost  too  good  for  a subjedt  of  this  class  ; though  very  apt  in  their  treat- 
ment, a higher  range  is  more  appropriate  for  the  artist.  There,  for  instance, 
is  a gem  ; it  is  only  a ‘ New  England  Farm-Yard  ; ’ but,  were  we  exiled  to 
the  tropics  or  Southern  Europe,  this  pidture  would  symbolize  our  country 
to  imagination  and  memory.  A negro  boy  is  watering  a horse  at  an  old 


Portraiture , Genre , Historical  Painters.  463 

mossy  trough  ; clown  the  road  a woman  is-  slowly  driving  a cow  toward  the 
gate  ; in  the  middle  of  the  yard  are  four  barn-yard  fowls.  Such  are  the 
simple  materials.  Note  them  in  detail.  The  boy  is  one  of  those  sable 
anomalies  found  about  New  England  farms,  that  once  known  can  hardly 
be  forgotten  : his  action  and  face  are  inimitable  ; the  horse  is  excellent, 
drawn  and  colored  to  the  life,  its  individuality  and  its  breed  recognized  at 
a glance  ; the  expression  of  the  face  singularly  true  to  nature  ; then  the 
fowls, — how  exactly  they  look  as  we  see  them  every  summer-day  from  the 
window  of  our  rural  domicile  ; it  is  not  merely  that  attitude,  form,  and 
plumage  are  given  with  precision,  but  the  natural  language  of  the  birds  is 
preserved  : one  is  reminded  of  Hawthorne’s  graphic  description  of  the 
Pyncheon  fowls,  only  Ehninger’s  are  less  antiquated  and  in  better  condi- 
tion. How  sweetly  falls  the  afternoon’s  mellow  light  adown  the  vista  of 
the  adjacent  road,  and  over  the  freshly-tinted  foreground  ! Some  of  the 
most  natural  points  of  the  Flemish  school  are  evident.  Four  little  studies 
of  costume  and  character,  French  in  subject,  and  daintily  executed,  suggest 
that  the  artist  would  excel  in  the  sphere  to  which  Newton  and  Leslie  have 
given  popularity.  His  forte  is  genre.  A small  picture  on  panel  has  a finish 
and  expression  that  would  charm  a virtuoso.  It  represents  a youth  killed 
in  a duel,  and  his  greyhound  regarding  his  body  ; a dusky  chamber  with 
antique  appointments,  a richly-dressed  form  stretched  on  the  floor,  a bloody 
rapier,  and  a dog,  are  the  objedts  depidfced  ; but  the  look  of  the  animal,  the 
dead  face,  the  cliiaro-oscnro , affedt  one  like  Mrs.  Radcliffe’s  night-scenes, 
or  an  episode  of  Froissart.  We  are  attracted  by  a small  landscape  ; a cart 
whose  Gallic  origin  is  self-evident,  drawn  by  horses  of  equally  obvious 
Norman  breed,  a woman  seated  on  the  top  of  her  load,  with  the  well-known 
dress  of  a French  peasant,  a man  in  a blouse  walking  beside  the  team,  a 
seaward  view  stretching  from  a treeless  coast,  on  the  bank  of  which  rises 
a picturesque  mill,  unite  to  form  a scene  that  recalls  our  day’s  ride  on  the 
top  of  the  diligence,  from  Havre  to  Rouen,  when  every  objedt  was  novel, 
and  we  knew,  for  the  first  time,  what  it  was  to  be  a stranger  in  a foreign 
land.  This  is  a perfedt  bit  of  Normandy  ; not  an  objedt  or  efifedt  but  tells 
the  same  story  : a thunder-cloud,  half-irradiated  with  sunshine,  pours  a 
rich  though  subdued  light  over  the  prospedt.  The  ‘ Needle  and  the  Sword,’ 
‘ The  Lady  at  the  Embroidery  Frame,’  and  ‘ A Man  examining  a Foil,’  are 
gems  in  their  way.” 

John  W.  Ehninger  graduated  at  Columbia  College,  in  New  York,  of 
which  city  he  is  a native,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  in  1847.  He  soon  became 
a student  of  painting  with  Coiture,  having  gone  abroad  immediately  after 
completing  his  academical  course.  During  his  residence  in  Paris,  he  made 
numerous  visits  to  other  European  capitals,  and  became  acquainted  with 
both  the  ancient  and  modern  schools,  by  examining  their  best  produdts 
and  frequenting  the  most  celebrated  ateliers.  An  engraving,  published  by 
the  American  Art-Union  in  1850,  from  an  illustration  of  Irving’s  humor- 
ous History,  executed  in  oil  by  Ehninger,  probably  first  made  him  gener- 
ally known  as  a young  American  artist  of  promise,  in  a comparatively 


464 


American  Artist  Life. 

4 

new  sphere.  Upon  his  returiP'to  the  United  States,  he  pursued  his 
profession  in  a somewhat  desultory  manner,  owing  doubtless  in  part 
to  the  precarious  demand  for  such  works  as  he  was  best  able  to  exe- 
cute. At  one  time  we  find  him  illustrating  a new  and  popular  poem,  at 
another  successfully  teaching  a class  of  ladies  ; now  at  work  upon  a new 
process  of  etching,  by  means  of  photography  ; and  again  engaged  upon  a 
striking  conception,  which  needs  but  elaborate  and  patient  finish  to  be  a 
first-class  exhibition  picture  of  its  kind.  The  subjects  of  his  pencil-indi- 
cate  the  school  of  art  in  which  he  excels — “ Love  me,  love  my  Horse,” 
“ Ars  Celare  Artem-L  a coquettish  and  naive  scene  ; “The  Sword,”  and 
“ The  Foray  ; ” he  sometimes  verged  upon  the  historical,  as  in  “ Lady  Jane 
Grey  ; ” his  “ Christ  Healing  the  Sick  ” indicates  an  aptitude  for  religious 
art,  though  but  a pencil-drawing  ; his  eight  illustrations  of  Longfellow’s 
Miles  Standish,  proved  a favorite  gift-book  ; and  his  outline  illustrations 
of  Irving’s  Dolph  Heyliger,  and  Hood’s  Bridge  of  Sighs,  betray  fine 
power  of  expression  and  graceful  limning.  Unequal  and  versatile,  this 
artist  is  one  of  the  best  American  disciples  of  the  French  school  ; and 
his  subjects  are  often  interesting  and  characteristic. 

Few  of  our  artists  have  had  greater  advantages;  belonging  to  an  old 
Knickerbocker  family,  and,  having  the  discipline  of  an  academic  edu- 
tion,  to  great  social  privileges  at  home  he  adds  the  culture  derived  from 
European  travel  ; an  art-student  at  Paris  and  Dusseldorf,  and  a sojourner 
in  England,  Southern  France,  and  Spain,  his  range  of  observation  has 
been  wide  and  suggestive.  In  the  latter  country,  Ehninger  painted  a 
number  of  genre  pictures,  taken  from  the  picturesque  peasantry  of  the 
Pyrenees — all  of  which  were  disposed  of  in  England,  where  his  works  have 
been  more  appreciated  than  in  his  native  country.  In  the  intervals  of 
more  elaborate  work,  he  has  contributed  designs  to  the  London  Illustrated 
Times  and  News  ; during  a recent  visit  to  Florida,  he  made  some  prom- 
ising studies  of  plantation  life  ; and  his  drawings  on  wood,  to  illustrate 
popular  books,  have  been  numerous  and  skilful.  His  first  picture  in  oil, 
an  episode  in  the  life  of  Governor  Stuyvesant,  belongs  to  Rutherford 
Stuyvesant,  of  New  York  ; in  “The  Foray,”  belongingto  G.  T.  Strong,  Esq., 
of  New  York,  the  landscape  is  by  Mignot  ; “ Ars  Cela re  A rtem , ’ ’ belongs 
to  J.  C.  McGuire,  Esq.,  of  Washington,  D.  C.  ; “ The  Sword,”  to  R.  M. 
Olyphant,  Esq.  ; “ Love  me,  love  my  Horse,”  to  H.  G.  Stebbins,  Esq.  ; “ An 
English  Lane,”  to  C.  H.  Ward,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; and  “Shakespeare 
before  Sir  T.  Lucy,”  to  Rutherford  Stuyvesant,  of  New  York  ; “Village 
Politics,”  to  C.  A.  Bristed,  Esq.  ; “ Christ  Healing  the  Sick,”  belonged  to 
the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Anthon  ; “ Death  and  the  Gambler”  is  an  impressively 
weird  picture,  and  “October,”  an  unique  delineation  of  pumpkin-gather- 
ing. Ehninger  is  one  of  the  most  accompleshed  draughtsmen  among 
American  artists — his  pencil  works  wonders  ; his  series  of  illustrations  of 
John  Gilpin — never  yet  engraved — have  been  much  admired  at  home  and 
abroad  ; and  his  most  recent  work  is  a set  of  designs  for  a mediaeval 
legend. 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


465 


The  Quaker  origin  of  our  earliest  painter  is  not  a solitary  instance 
such  identification  of  the  most  prosaic  of  sedts  with  the  practice  of  an  art 
which,  according  to  their  strict  tenets,  is  allied  with,  if 
not  direCtly  conducive  to,  vanity  ; although  a shrewd  mem-  Hicks, 
ber  of  the  communion,  when  waited  upon,  a few  years 
since,  in  London,  by  a committee  of  elders,  to  remonstrate  with  him  be- 
cause of  his  extravagant  purchase  of  a “Wouverman,”  disarmed  the  pro- 
test and  quieted  all  conscientious  scruples,  by  proving  to  his  brethren  that 
lie  had  made  an  excellent  investment  ! 

Among  our  portrait-painters  of  Quaker  parentage,  is  Thomas  Hicks, 
born  in  Newtown,  Bucks  county,  Pa.,  in  1823.  He  is  a lineal  descendant 
of  the  famous  Elias  Hicks,  whose  patronymic  is  associated  with  the  first 
serious  division  in  that  remarkable  body  of  Christians.  His  young  kins- 
man early  began  to  experiment  in  limning.  He  tried  his  hand  at  portrai- 
ture when  but  fifteen  years  old.  He  first  studied  in  Philadelphia,  carefully 
drawing  from  the  casts  of  the  antique  in  the  Academy,  and  subsequently 
at  the  National  Academy  of  New  York,  where,  for  many  years,  he  has 
pursued  successfully  the  career  of  a portrait-painter.  Attention  was  called 
to  his  claims  by  the  exhibition  in  1841  of  his  first  composition,  the  Death 
of  Abel,”  and  subsequently  by  a half-length  ideal  female  figure,  represent- 
ing “ Italia.”  He  went  to  Europe  in  1845,  an<^  remained  four  years,  chiefly 
at  Rome  and  Paris  ; in  the  latter  city  he  studied  with  Coiture,  and  in  the 
former  copied  the  old  masters.  He  usually  catches  a likeness  with  facil- 
ity, and  often  indulges  in  warmth  of  coloring  and  elaborate  accessories, 
which  have  contributed  to  the  popularity  of  his  portraits  ; among  the  most 
notable  of  these  are  heads  and  half  or  full- lengths  of  Plalleck,  Longfel- 
low, Ward  Beecher,  Dr.  Kane,  Dr.  Cogswell,  and  Edwin  Booth  as  Iago. 
The  artist-life  of  Hicks  has  been  prosperous,  but  not  without  tragic  adven- 
tures. He  was  in  Paris  during  the  Revolution  of  1848,  and  sheltered  two 
fugitive  insurgents  in  his  room,  enabling  them  finally  to  escape.  During 
the  Carnival  at  Rome,  in  the  midst  of  a dense  crowd  in  the  Piazza  Colonna, 
he  was  stabbed  in  the  back  with  a stiletto , so  seriously  as  to  remain  for 
months  in  a critical  state.  He  is  also  one  of  the  survivors  of  the  catastrophe 
at  Norwalk,  Connecticut,  when  so  many  perished  by  the  rush  of  a train 
of  cars  into  the  river. 

With  the  recolleCtion  of  his  miraculous  escape  from  the  hecatomb  of 
victims  that  perished  by  this  railway  catastrophe,  it  was  startling,  a few 
weeks  after,  to  find  this  popular  artist  cheerily  directing  the  pencil  of  his 
wife,  another  survivor  of  that  tragic  scene.  What  a contrast  between  their 
tasteful  occupation  and  quiet  studio,  and  the  remembrance  of  that  pitiless 
fate  which  overtook  so  many  of  their  companions  ! Hicks  is  a good  col- 
orist. Examine  that  head  of  a stolid  burgher  of  Long  Island  ; there  is 
little  in  feature  and  expression  for  an  artist  to  make  effective.  Yet  this 
want  is  atoned  for  by  the  skill  with  which  the  tints  are  disposed.  Another 
point,  in  which  success  is  rare,  is  obvious  in  a full-length,  so  well  drawn 
and  toned  ; the  figure  stands  firmly  and  easily.  Whoever  has,  of  late 

3° 


466 


American  Artist  Life. 


years,  been  to  the  Falls  of  Trenton,  doubtless  remembers  the  landlord  and 
his  thriving  family.  They  have  been  very  cleverly  grouped  together  by 
Hicks,  one  leaning  against  a tree,  another  handling  his  gun  ; one  playful, 
another  contemplative  ; and,  in  the  background,  through  a leafy  vista,  we 
have  a glimpse  of  the  rushing  water  ; the  likenesses  are  recognized  at 
once  ; the  attitudes  are  natural  and  well  varied  ; and  there  is  a pleasant 
atmosphere  and  unity  of  effeCt  in  the  whole. 

Quite  a variety  of  this  artist’s  paintings  are  in  the  gallery  of  Marshall 
O Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  a portrait,  a landscape,  “Mount  Vesu- 
vius,” “ The  Harem,”  and  “ Shelley’s  Grave.” 

Among  other  portraits  by  this  artist  are  full-lengths  of  Hon.  James  A. 
Vandyke,  of  Detroit,  Mich.;  of  George  T.  Trimble,  of  the  New  York 
Board  of  Education  ; of  Hon.  Hamilton  Fish,  in  the  New  York  City  Hall; 
two  of  the  late  Pelatiah  Perit,  one  in  the  Seamen’s  Savings  Bank,  and  the 
other  in  the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  New  York  ; also  half-lengths  of  Hon. 
Gulian  C.  Verplanck,  at  the  Century  Club,  New  York  ; of  Judge  Kane,  in 
the  rooms  of  the  Pennsylvania  Historical  Society  ; of  Mayor  Tiemann,  in  the 
New  York  City  Hall ; of  Hon.  Luther  Bradish,  in  the  gallery  of  the  New  York 
Historical  Society;  of  Wm.  M.  Evarts,  Esq.,  at  the  New  York  Century 
Club,  and  Elias  Hicks,  N.  Y.  Chamber  of  Commerce  ; his  three-quarter- 
length  of  Dr.  Johnston  is  in  the  New  York  Hospital.  His  portrait  of  Ward 
Beecher  belongs  to  O.  Leary,  Esq.,  Canada;  and  a replica  to  Mr.  McRae; 
that  of  Bishop  Wainwright,  to  T.  B.  Brownson,  Esq. ; that  of  Bryant,  and 
of  Bayard  Taylor  in  Oriental  costume,  to  the  artist;  his  portrait  of  Col. 
Emmons  Clark  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Twenty-seventh  Regiment  ; that 
of  Margaret  Fuller  (Countess  d’Ossoli)  of  Geo.  Cabot  Ward,  Esq.,  of  New 
York  ; and  his  portrait  of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck  was  executed  for  B.  R. 
Winthrop,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  Hicks  has  also  painted  heads  of  O.  W. 
Holmes,  Longfellow,  Mrs.  Stowe,  W.  H.  Seward,  Geo.  H.  Boker,  Mrs.  Kirk- 
land, and  Hon.  R.  Conkling.  His  “Booth  as  Iago”  is  owned  by  A.  M. 
Cozzens,  Esq.,  and  the  original  study  by  Wm,  T.  Blodgett,  Esq.,  of  New 
York;  and  the  former  gentleman  has  pictures  of  “An  Italian  Woman” 
and  “Amalfi,”  by  this  artist. 

One  of  the  most  effective  of  our  native  painters  in  genre  is  not  an  el  eve  of 
the  modern  French  school,  but  seems  to  have  divined  for  himself  a special 
aptitude  for  the  naive  and  characteristic  ; and,  what  is 
Eastman  Johnson,  more  desirable,  to  have  recognized  in  American  life  the 
resources  for  a department  of  art  previously  too  much 

negleCted. 

Eastman.  Johnson  was  born  in  the  little  town  of  Lovell,  near  Freyburg, 
in  the  State  of  Maine.  His  father  long  held,  with  eminent  credit,  a respon- 
sible office  in  the  United  States  Treasury  Department.  His  artist  son  was 
first  known  to  fame  as  a crayon-limner,  wherein  his  skill  in  catching  a like- 
ness, and  the  grace  and  vigor  of  his  drawing,  rendered  him  popular  and 
prosperous  ; so  that,  in  a few  years,  he  was  enabled  to  visit  Europe,  where 
he  commenced  an  earnest  system  of  study,  and  began  to  practise  in  oil. 


Portraiture,  Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  467 

He  remained  two  years  at  Dusseldorf ; and  although  greater  facility  and 
accuracy  in  drawing  were  thus  acquired,  he  did  not  learn  much  which  pro- 
moted his  special  artistic  development ; and  therefore  started  with  alacrity 
for  Italy,  by  the  way  of  Paris  and  Holland,  visiting  the  best  galleries  and 
studios. 

At  the  Hague  he  fell  in  with  Mignot,  and  tarried  ostensibly  to  copy  a 
remarkable  picture  in  the  royal  collection.  Intending  to  remain  but  a few 
weeks,  his  sojourn  lasted  four  years  ; for  then  and  there  he  struck  upon  a 
congenial  vein  of  work,  found  unexpected  opportunities  for  study,  and  met 
with  flattering  success  in  portraiture.  He  executed  at  the  Hague  his  first 
original  and  elaborate  work  in  oil.  It  was  to  him  a labor  of  love  ; and  he 
gave  to  it  the  time  and  the  care  which  the  genuine  artist  delights  in  be- 
stowing upon  what  he  feels  to  be  his  appropriate  task.  The  subjeCfc  and 
treatment  are  remarkably  simple,  and  the  effeCts  produced  by  wise  and  pa- 
tient labor  with  a constant  eye  to  nature.  A boy  with  dark  eyes  and  hair, 
and  olive  complexion,  in  the  rude  dress  of  a Savoyard  peasant,  stands  lean- 
ing against  the  weather-stained  wall  of  an  old  court-yard,  weed-grown  and 
picturesque.  The  figure  is  expressive  and  admirably  designed  ; the  face 
full  of  character,  and  the  color  rich,  mellow,  and  finely  harmonized  ; it  is 
such  a boy  as  Murillo  would  have  painted  with  a relish.  There  is  a finish 
in  this  picture,  a truth  of  expression,  a naivete ’ and  a maturity  of  execu- 
tion, from  the  dark-glowing  eye  of  the  peasant  to  the  stains  on  the  wall 
and  the  curl  of  the  vine-leaves,  which  indicate  a mastery  of  the  best  prin- 
ciples of  art,  and  are  the  more  remarkable  as  being  exhibited  in  the  earliest 
work  of  the  kind  from  the  same  hand. 

Having  shown  his  capacity  and  his  true  tendencies  in  this  picture,  John- 
son executed  several  others  of  the  same  class,  and  sent  them  home,  where 
they  were  received  with  warm  commendation,  and  found  ready  and  liberal 
purchasers  ; among  them  “ The  Card-Players  ” will  be  especially  remem- 
bered by  all  cognizant  of  the  painter’s  second  advent,  when  those  who  had 
known  and  admired  him  in  portraiture  were  agreeably  surprised  at  his  suc- 
cess in  this  new  and  attractive  sphere.  Meantime,  however,  he  did  not 
negleCt  the  former  branch  ; but,  encouraged  by  the  court  and  leading  fam- 
ilies at  the  Hague,  executed,  for  liberal  prices  and  to  popular  satisfaction, 
portraits  in  oil  and  colored  crayons  of  many  prominent  citizens,  and  nearly 
all  the  maids  of  honor.  Although  the  most  lucrative  and  available,  this 
class  of  pictures  occupied  Johnson  only  in  the  intervals  of  some  study  of 
nature  and  character,  for  which  he  has  a quick  eye  and  a true  sympathy. 

No  one  of  our  painters  has  more  truly  caught  and  perfectly  delineated 
the  American  rustic  and  negro,  or  with  such  pathetic  and  natural  emphasis 
put  upon  canvas  bits  of  household  or  childish  life,  or  given  such  bright  and 
real  glimpses  of  primitive  human  nature.  On  his  return  to  the  United 
States  he  turned  his  attention,  with  great  success,  to  native  subjects  ; and 
every  picture  from  his  easel  made  a fresh  and  permanent  impression. 
“ The  Papers,”  “ The  Marseillaise,  and  the  Post-Boy,”  each  tells  its  own 
story  as  emphatically  as  could  Wilkie  or  Hogarth  ; and  the  “ Boy  from  the 


468  American  Artist  Life. 

Ragged-School,”  or  the  “ Girl  by  the  Stove,”  have  much  of  Fr&re’s  truth 
and  tenderness. 

If  we  compare  the  subjects  and  execution  of  Johnson  and  Edmonds, 
we  realize  how  national  genre  art,  even  in  its  least  ambitious  phase,  has 
advanced  under  the  dexterous  hand  of  the  latter  artist.  Not  only  is  the 
style  more  finished,  but  the  significance  is  deeper,  and  the  sentiment  more 
delicate.  A critic  has  well  said  of  “ The  Old  Kentucky  Home  ” : — 

“ The  beholder  should  not  fail  to  notice  the  very  truthful  painting  of 
the  decayed  shed-roof,  the  moss-grown  shingles,  the  broken  beams,  the 
weather-beaten  clapboards,  and  the  old  brick  chimney.  And  again,  if  he 
looks  up  through  the  branches  of  the  tree,  he  will  not  fail  to  see  the  family 
residence  is  just  as  well  painted.  The  postures  of  all  the  figures  are 
almost  perfection,  especially  that  of  the  mulatto  girl  on  the  left-hand  side. 
They  put  to  shame  the  bad  drawing  of  many  of  our  older  artists,  who 
imagine  themselves  to  be  fitted  for  the  realms  of  so-called  4 high  art.’ 

“ But  the  picture  is  now  interesting  in  another  respect.  Here  we  see 
the  ‘good  old  times’  before  the  ‘peculiar  institution  ’ was  overturned — 
times  that  will  never  again  return.  The  very  details  of  the  subjeCt  are 
prophetical.  How  fitly  do  the  dilapidated  and  decaying  negro  quarters 
typify  the  approaching  destruction  of  the  ‘system  ’ that  they  serve  to  illus- 
trate ! And,  in  the  picture  before  us,  we  have  an  illustration  also  of  the 
‘rose-water’  side  of  the  institution.  Here  all  is  fun  and  freedom.  We 
behold  the  very  reality  that  the  enthusiastic  devotees  of  slavery  have  so 
often  painted  with  high-sounding  words.  And  yet  this  dilapidation,  un- 
heeded and  unchecked,  tells  us  that  the  end  is  near. 

“ The  prophecy  has  been  fulfilled.  No  more  does  the  tuneful  banjo  re- 
sound in  that  deserted  yard  ; no  more  do  babies  dance  or  lovers  woo  ; no 
more  does  the  mistress  enjoy  the  sport  of  the  slave,  but  scowls  through 
the  darkened  blind  at  the  tramping  ‘boys  in  blue.’  The  banjo  is  silent  ; 
its  master  sleeps  in  the  trench  at  Petersburg.  The  lover  has  borne  the 
‘banner  of  the  free  ’ through  hard-fought  battles,  and  now  is  master  of  the 
soil.” 

The  “ Drummer-Boy  ” is  a vigorous  work,  full  of  spirit  and  expression. 
A drummer-boy  at  An  detain  being  disabled  by  a wound,  was  seized  by  a 
comrade,  mounted  on  his  shoulders,  and  together,  with  drum  beating  and 
bayonet  poised,  they  rushed  to  the  deadly  charge.  Such  is  the  story,  and 
the  artist  tells  it  on  canvas  with  simple  and  emphatic  eloquence. 

More  pathetic,  but  equally  true  to  life  and  nature,  is  another  illustra- 
tion of  the  War  for  the  Union  : In  the  foreground  of  the  picture,  under 
the  cool  shadow  of  the  trees,  lies  upon  a camp-cot  a young  soldier. 
He  appears  to  be  convalescent,  and  his  face  is  turned  toward  a 
young  woman,  who  is  seated  by  his  side,  writing  a letter  at  his  dictation. 
In  the  distance  are  hospital  tents,  and  a guard  pacing  his  beat  in  the 
golden  sunshine.  “This  is  a simple  yet  touching  story,”  says  a critic, 
“ which  recalls  the  loving  work  so  often  done  by  noble  women  in  the  camp 
and  in  the  hospital,  and  it  is  told  with  all  that  eloquence  of  color  and  per- 


Portraiture , Genre,  and  Historical  Painters. 


fedtion  of  design  which  has  made  this  artist  the  Edward  Frere  of  our 
country.  One  of  his  happiest  conceits  is  seen  in  the  picture,  where  the 
wounded  soldier,  in  an  absent,  unconscious  way,  has  taken  in  his  hand  a 
sprig  from  the  apple-tree  branches  which  sweep  his  pillow.  It  reminds 
him  perhaps  of  that  quiet  farm-house  away  up  among  the  hills  or  valleys 
of  the  North,  of  sisters,  of  mother,  of  home.  The  picture  describes  the 
sunnier  side  of  the  soldier’s  life,  but  it  may  be  the  one  we  most  love  to 
remember.” 

As  if  to  complete  the  series,  or  rather  to  bring  home  to  the  mind  a not 
less  characteristic  incident  in  the  life  of  the  American  soldier,  Eastman 
Johnson  painted  “ The  Pension  Claim- Agent,”  which  represents  one  of 
numerous  incidents  in  real  life,  resulting  from  national  war.  The  scene  is 
laid  in  the  cottage  of  a soldier,  who  has  been  disabled  by  the  loss  of  a leg. 
The  agent  has  seated  himself  at  the  table,  thrown  his  hat  upon  the  bed, 
and  deposited  his  valise  filled  with  the  papers  pertaining  to  his  business, 
upon  the  floor.  Pie  sits  with  pen  in  hand  listening  to  the  soldier,  who 
stands  leaning  upon  a crutch,  telling  the  story  of  his  battles.  Two  old 
persons  sit  upon  one  side,  perhaps  the  father  and  mother  of  this  youthful 
veteran  ; and  the  housewife  is  busy  at  a cupboard,  while  a little  girl  sits 
peeling  apples,  and  at  the  same  time  listening  to  the  story. 

“ Sunday  Morning,”  a scene  so  deeply  associated  with  Peace,  and  yet  as 
truly  native  to  the  land,  has  been  described,  with  truth,  as  suggestive  in 
the  highest  degree  The  aged  grandfather,  unconscious  of  everything 
but  the  time-consecrated  habit,  holds  under  his  dimmed  eyes  the  Book  in 
which,  for  long  and  weary  years,  he  has  found  the  illumination  of  his  faith, 
and  which  he  reads  slowly,  monotonously,  no  doubt ; his  old  wife  piously 
follows  every  word  with  her  praying  heart.  The  figure  of  that  grandmother 
is  touchingly  pathetic  in  its  austere  goodness.  You  feel  how  little  of  what 
we  call  Earth’s  honors  she  has  known,  but  at  the  same  time  how  much  she 
has  tasted,  in  her  humble  way,  the  universal  reward  of  family  virtue  and 
family  love.  The  young  husband  is  there,  with  precisely  the  half-careless, 
half-preoccupied  attitude  a farmer  must  have  when  listening  to  a Psalm, 
while  he  thinks  of  his  cattle  or  his  crops,  and  finds  the  reading  rather  te- 
dious. But  his  wife  makes  up  in  her  woman  way  for  all  these  side-thoughts. 
She  loses  not  one  word  ; she  even  seems  eager  to  treasure  their  comfort 
and  their  peace  ; and  unconscious  almost  of  the  babe  she  suckles,  you  see 
her  bending  forward  toward  the  old  man  and  giving  him  all  her  attention. 
Not  so  the  two  charming  children  who  sit  side  by  side.” 

Among  other  recent  works  of  this  effective  and  assiduous  painter,  are 
u Cosette,”  from  ViCtor  Plugo’s  u Misdrables  ; ” a lively  sketch  of  a man 
“ Popping  the  Cork  of  a Bottle  of  Champagne,”  with  a singularly  zestful 
expression  ; and  a “ Boy  leading  a Steer  to  a pile  of  Corn-stalks  ” — a strong, 
realistic  picture.  In  all  his  works  we  find  vital  expression,  sometimes 
naive , at  others  earnest,  and  invariably  characteristic  ; trained  in  the  tech- 
nicalities of  his  art,  keen  in  his  observation,  and  natural  in  his  feeling,  we 
have  a genre  painter  in  Eastman  Johnson  who  has  elevated  and  widened 


470 


American  Artist  Life. 


its  naturalistic  scope  and  its  national  significance.  His  pictures  are  in 
constant  demand,  and  purchased  before  they  leave  the  easel.  All  American 
collectors  seek  and  prize  them.  His  “ Savoyard  Boy,”  “ Mount  Vernon 
Kitchen,”  and  four  of  his  crayon  portraits,  are  in  the  possession  of  G.  W. 
Riggs,  Esq.,  of  Washington,  D.  C.  ; Rev.  H.  W.  Beecher  has  his  “ Albano 
Girl ; Wm.  T.  Blodgett  his  “ Corn-Sheller  ; ” J.  L.  Claghorn,  Esq.,  his 
“ Drop  on  the  Sly ; ” A.  M.  Cozzens,  his  “ Not  enough  for  Two  ; ” “ Get- 
ting Warm,”  “ The  Little  Storekeeper,”  and  “ Young  Letter-Writer  ” belong 
to  R.  M.  Olyphant ; “ The  Musicians,”  to  R.  L.  Stuart ; the  “ Chimney- 
Sweep,”  to  August  Belmont;  “ The  Chimney-Corner”  and  “ The  New 
England  Boy  at  Breakfast,”  to  J.  Taylor  Johnston  ; and  in  the  collection 
of  Marshall  O.  Roberts  are  “ The  Post-Boy,”  “Lady  at  Prayer,”  “Hard 
Cider,”  “The  Woodsman,”  and  “The  Organ-Boy.”  His  “ Old  Kentucky 
Home”  and  “Mating” — the  latter  belonging  to  Gen.  John  A.  Dix — were 
sent  to  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1867.  Several  of  his  pictures  belonged  to 
the  lamented  Col.  Wilder  Dwight,  of  Boston. 

In  his  delineation  of  the  negro,  Eastman  Johnson  has  achieved  a pecu- 
liar fame.  One  may  find  in  his  best  pictures  of  this  class  a better  insight 
into  the  normal  character  of  that  unfortunate  race  than  ethnological  dis- 
cussion often  yields.  The  affeCtion,  the  humor,  the  patience  and  serenity 
which  redeem  from  brutality  and  ferocity  the  civilized  though  subjugated 
African,  are  made  to  appear  in  the  creations  of  this  artist  with  singular 
authenticity.  “Washington’s  Kitchen  at  Mount  Vernon”  is  full  of  sugges- 
tions in  this  respeCt ; and  “ The  Old  Kentucky  Home  ” is  not  only  a mas- 
terly work  of  art,  full  of  nature,  truth,  local  significance,  and  character,  but  it 
illustrates  a phase  of  American  life  which  the  rebellion  and  its  consequen- 
ces will  either  uproot  or  essentially  modify;  and,  therefore,  this  picture  is 
as  valuable  as  a memorial  as  it  is  interesting  as  an  art-study.  It  is  charac- 
teristic of  American  civilization  to  be  perpetually  in  a transition  state  ; 
and  as  Audubon  has  depicted  and  described  species  of  birds  that  have 
since  disappeared  from  this  continent,  so  the  novelist,  historian,  and  artist 
do  no  inadequate  service  when  they  conserve  the  aspeCt  and  traits  of 
life  and  manners  soon  to  become  thincrs  of  tradition.  And  in  view  of  the 

O 

subjeCt,  we  cannot  but  hope  that  Eastman  Johnson  will  do  for  the  aborig- 
ines what  he  has  partially  but  effectually  done  for  the  negroes.  In  a few 
years  the  Indian  traits  will  grow  vague  ; and  never  yet  have  they  been 
adequately  represented  in  art.  Catlin’s  aboriginal  portraits  are  indeed 
valuable  and  authentic;  Ward’s  statue  of  the  Indian  Hunter,  and  Craw- 
ford’s of  the  Indian  in  his  conscious  decadence,  are  beautiful  memorials  ; 
but  much  remains  to  be  done  in  pictorial  art.  A recent  glance  into  the 
portfolio  of  Eastman  Johnson  convinced  us  that  he  would  do  peculiar  jus- 
tice to  a comparatively  unworked  mine  of  native  art.  While  at  Great 
Portage,  on  the  Upper  Mississippi,  a few  years  ago,  he  sketched  the 
figures  and  faces  of  some  of  the  Sioux — old  men  and  women,  young  squaws 
and  children  : and  we  have  never  seen  the  savage  melancholy,  the  resigned 
stoicism,  or  the  weird  age  of  the  American  Indian,  so  truly  portrayed  : a 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Plistorieal  Painters.  471 

Roman  profile  here,  a fierce  sadness  there,  a grim,  withered  physiognomy, 
or  a soft  but  subdued  wild  beauty,  prove  how  the  artist’s  eye  had  Caught 
the  individuality  of  the  aboriginal  face  ; and  with  the  picturesque  costume, 
scenic  accessories,  rites  of  fete  and  of  sepulture,  it  is  easy  to  imagine 
what  an  effective  representative  picture  of  the  Red  Man  of  America,  with 
adequate  facilities,  this  artist  could  execute. 

One  of  his  most  naive  conceptions  is  called  “ Mating.'1  On  the  low 
roof  of  a farm-house  a flock  of  pigeons  are  billing  and  cooing,  strutting 
and  puffing,  every  eye  and  feather  kindled  with  amorous  vitality — so  natu- 
ral and  real  as  alone  to  make  the  picture  a gem  to  the  naturalist  ; while 
leaning  against  the  door-post  below  is  a buxom  girl,  whose  air  and  expres- 
sion, attitude  and  eye,  are  just  as  full  of  the  “ hopes  and  fears  that  kindle 
hope”  as  those  cf  the  doves,  while  her  rustic  lover  in  shirt-sleeves,  ab- 
sently whittling  a stick,  does  his  courting  in  a like  spirit  of  bashful  desire. 
Altogether  the  story  is  told  with  inimitable  truth  and  nature.  “ The  Itin- 
erant Musician,”  “ Negro  Girl  looking  out  of  a Window,  “ A Boy  in  a Torn 
Straw  Hat,”  u Crossing  a Stream,”  “ A Girl  Picking  Flowers,”  and  other 
simple,  natural,  yet  infinitely  suggestive  themes,  this  painter  has  treated 
with  remarkable  skill  and  meaning.  Expression  is  his  forte — not  dramatic 
or  historical  so  much  as  human  expression.  His  “ Margaret  ” is  a great 
favorite,  often  as  the  subjeCt  has  been  delineated. 

One  of  the  latest  subjects  which  have  occupied  his  pencil  is  drawn  from 
his  own  childhood’s  reminiscences  of  the  scenes  amid  which  he  was  born. 
In  Maine,  of  old,  no  rustic  festival  equalled  in  merriment  and  local  interest 
the  “ boiling-day  ” in  the  sugar-camp.  The  woods  of  maple  glow  with 
fire  ; picturesque  groups  of  farmers  and  gudewives,  and  maidens  and  chil- 
dren animate  the  forest ; a gossip  lays  down  the  law  here  ; a political  quid- 
nunc comments  on  a stale  newspaper  there  ; old  people  smoke  pipes  on  a 
mossy  bank  ; young  ones  whisper  love  by  the  thicket.  There  is  usually  a 
fiddler,  an  ancient  negro,  and  an  improvised  feast ; and  all  these  elements, 
with  the  woods  for  a background,  and  characteristic  dresses,  faces,  and 
groups,  combine  to  form  rare  materials  for  a scene  quite  peculiar  to  this 
country  ; yet  becoming  more  rare  and  less  picturesque  as  locomotive  facil- 
ities reduce  costume,  dress,  speech,  and  even  faces,  to  a monotonous  uni- 
formity. 

When  the  Pictorial  Journal,  which  now  in  its  best  form  ministers  to 
some  of  the  better  aptitudes  of  art,  was  a novelty  among  us,  certain  woodcuts 
in  a Philadelphia  publication  of  this  class  attracted  notice 
from  their  expressiveness  and  superior  drawing.  It  was  Darley. 
soon  discovered  that  these  were  the  work  of  a young  ap- 
prentice in  a mercantile  house,  who,  whenever  he  could  escape  from  his 
uncongenial  duties,  had  recourse  to  his  pencil ; at  one  moment  indulging 
in  the  most  piquant  caricature,  and  at  another  delineating,  with  remark- 
able truth  and  force,  the  fishwomen  or  firemen  of  his  native  metropolis. 
Thus  Felix  O.  C.  Darley  began  his  remarkable  career  as  a draughtsman. 
Connected  by  birth  with  a family  not  only  eminent  but  endeared  for  dra- 


472 


American  Artist  Life. 

malic  talent,  and  related  to  the  favorite  portrait-painter  of  the  day — Thomas 
Sully— the  young  man  had  a legitimate  claim  to  find  subsistence  and  satis- 
faction in  rendering  the  comedy  of  life  into  artistic  significance.  His  love 
for  the  pursuit  was  instinctive  ; but  he  possessed  also  two  special  endow- 
ments therefor — facile  power  and  an  original  and  vivid  sense  of  the 
humorous.  Fortunately,  just  at  this  time,  that  peculiar  vein  of  humorous 
writing  which,  from  its  local  interest  and  character,  deserved  its  name  of 
“ American,”  had  become’ a recognized  element  of  popular  literature— the 
attraction  of  which  could  be  indefinitely  enhanced  by  skilful  and  sug- 
gestive illustration,  such  as  makes  the  pencils  of  Doyle  and  Leech  a 
requisite  counterpoise  to  the  heavy  work  of  British  journalism.  When, 
therefore,  the  Philadelphia  publishers  engaged  Darley  to  illustrate  a series 
of  American  humorous  works,  he  determined  with  alacrity  to  trust  to  his 
pencil  and  abandon  trade.  Born  in  Philadelphia  on  the  twenty-third  of 
June,  1822,  he  was  placed  in  a counting-house  at  the  age  of  fourteen  ; and, 
in  twelve  years  after,  we  find  him  settled  in  New  York,  and  engaged,  under 
the  auspices  of  the  American  Art-Union,  in  executing  elaborate  outline 
illustrations  of  Irving’s  humorous  writings.  The  six  devoted  to  the  u Le- 
gend of  Sleepy  Hollow,”  when  published,  formed  an  epoch  in  our  art-his- 
tory ; — being  the  first  truly  artistic  specimens  in  a department  which  Retsch 
and  Fuseli  had  made  so  interesting.  They  were  recognized  as  masterly 
and  full  of  promise  abroad,  and  led  to  a very  advantageous  offer  from  Lon- 
don, whereby  Darley  could  have  established  himself  eligibly,  had  he  not 
been  too  much  attached  to  home  and  too  ambitious  of  success  there,  to 
listen  to  any  offer,  however  tempting,  which  should  lead  to  a prolonged 
exile.  The  result  proved  that  his  decision  was  not  less  wise  than  patriotic  ; 
for  his  talents  have  been  in  constant  requisition,  his  progress  regular  and 
rapid,  and  his  prosperity  assured.  The  peculiar  skill  and  readiness  of 
Darley’s  pencil  has  unavoidably  enlisted  it  in  numerous  casual  enterprises  ; 
from  a vignette  for  a bank-note  to  a political  caricature  for  a comic  paper, 
there  was  no  draughtsman  among  us  so  prompt  and  inventive  ; the  inter- 
vals of  his  professional  work  were  eagerly  improved  by  his  friends  to  en- 
rich their  portfolios  with  sketches  and  portraits  full  of  meaning  and  mirth, 
in  the  circles  where  they  originated. 

But,  while  assiduous  in  the  economical  duties  of  his  vocation  and  prolific 
in  his  impromptu  social  contributions,  like  all  genuine  artists,  Darley  cher- 
ished a hi gh  ideal  and  a noble  ambition.  He  soon  conceived  an  elaborate 
work,  undertaken  from  pure  love  thereof,  and  resorted  to  when  free  from 
more  lucrative  and  limited  tasks.  A remarkable  story  of  New  England 
primitive  life  had  appeared  ; it  is  intense  in  its  psychological  phases, 
graphic  in  its  details  of  still-life,  powerful  and  subtle  in  its  grasp  of  char- 
acter, and  vivid  in  its  sense  of  beauty  ; yet  unfinished  in  style,  with  little 
dramatic  harmony  ; crude  in  execution,  though  original  and  vital  in  ma- 
terial. It  came  from  the  pen  of  a clergyman,  whose  life  in  Maine  had 
afforded  him  excellent  opportunities  for  observing  nature  and  studying 
character.  A kindred  subjeCt,  although  widely  different  in  date  and  local 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  473 

traits,  has  since  become  classic  in  the  “ Scarlet  Letter”  of  Hawthorne,  a work, 
by  the  way,  which  commends  itself,  from  its  national  theme  and  standard 
literary  execution,  to  Barley’s  pencil  ; but  his  imagination  was  captivated 
by  the  fresh  descriptions  and  individuality  of  character,  as  well  as  the 
picturesque  scenes  of  the  earlier  and  less  polished  fiCtion  ; and  the  “illus- 
trations” thereof,  published  in  1856,  and  immediately  successful,  were 
wrought  out  in  the  most  earnest  and  sympathetic  spirit,  and  placed  him  at 
once  in  the  front  rank  of  original,  graceful,  expressive  artists  : abroad  and 
at  home  the  series  was  hailed  by  every  lover  of  the  beautiful,  student  of 
character,  and  votary  of  expression— pure,  genuine,  and  powerful,  through 
the  simplest  but  most  subtle  lines  of  the  draughtsman.  Barley’s  principal 
designs  are  for  a series  of  humorous  stories  : Neal’s  Charcoal  Sketches, 
etc.  ; illustrations  of  Irving’s  Works  : Tales  of  a Traveller,  Alhambra, 
Sketch-Book,  Knickerbocker’s  New  York,  and  Life  of  Washington  ; and  out- 
lines illustrative  of  the  “ Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow”  and  “ Rip  Van  Winkle,” 
for  the  American  Art-Union.  The  former  were  republished  in  the  Paris 
“ Magazin  Pittoresque,”  the  latter  reproduced  in  miniature,  published  in 
London  ; Illustrations  of  Sylvester  Judd’s  story  of  “ Margaret of  Cooper’s 
Works  ; consisting  of  outlines  for  the  American  Art-Union  Bulletin;  from 
the  Spy,  Leather-Stocking  series,  and  of  vignettes  for  Townsend’s  edition 
of  all  the  novels  ; his  bank-note  vignettes  comprise  Indian  scenes, 
buffalo  hunts,  farm  scenes,  etc.  His  spirited  and  popular  illustrations 
of  Bickens’  Works  are  still  favorites;  and  of  large  engravings  of  his  com- 
position, there  are  “Wyoming,”  “ The  First  Blow  for  Liberty,”  “Washing- 
ton’s Entry  into  New  York,”  and  “The  Seasons,”  representing  phases  of 
American  farm-life. 

The  designs  for  Cooper’s  novels — all  characteristic  scenes  chiefly  from 
American  life — are  five  hundred  in  number  ; large  copies,  in  crayon,  of 
some  of  the  most  popular  have  been  separately  published.  Lie  also  de- 
signed a series  of  illustrations  for  the  novels  of  Simms.  Barley  exe- 
cuted for  the  private  collection  of  the  Prince  Napoleon,  in  accordance 
with  an  order  given  him  by  the  latter  during  his  yacht-trip  to  America,  four 
characteristic  scenes — “ Emigrants  Attacked  by  Indians  on  the  Prairie,” 
“The  Village  Blacksmith,”  “ The  Unwilling  Laborer,”  “The  Repose.” 
One  of  his  most  pleasing  and  elaborate  compositions — “ Brovers,  Land- 
scape, and  Cattle” — belongs  to  J.  C.  McGuire,  Esq.,  of  Washington,  B.  C. 
Buring  the  War  for  the  Union,  his  graphic  and  patriotic  pencil  delin- 
eated, with  dramatic  truth,  many  a significant  incident  and  scene,  from 
“ Giving  Comfort  to  the  Enemy  ” — a rebel  woman  handing  up  a cup  of 
water  by  her  cottage  door  to  a worn  and  weary  Union  cavalier — to  “ For- 
aging in  Virginia,”  and  the  chivalric  charge  of  the  lamented  young  Bahl- 
gren  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.  The  two  latter  are  in  the  possession  of  W.  T. 
Blodgett,  Esq.  It  is  a remarkable  evidence  of  Barley’s  skill  that  this 
effective  scene  was  designed  entirely  from  the  verbal  description  of  a 
newspaper  correspondent ; and  yet  so  true  in  detail  to  faCt  is  the  draw- 
ing, that  we  have  heard  the  young  hero  himself,  when  beguiling  his  con- 


474 


American  Artist  Life. 


valescence  after  the  loss  of  his  limb,  by  examining  a photograph  of  the 
sketch,  attest  the  accuracy  with  which  the  artist’s  imagination  has  caught 
and  embodied  the  local  and  personal  faCts.  It  is  one  of  the  most  spirited 
artistic  illustrations  of  the  war  for  the  Union.  The  scene  is  that  of  Novem- 
ber, 1862,  when  young  Dalghren,  under  the  orders  of  General  Sigel,  sur- 
prised the  enemy  at  Fredericksburg,  by  a gallant  dash  of  the  First  In- 
diana cavalry.  The  artist  has  chosen  the  moment  of  alarm,  wonder,  and 
hot  resistance  incident  to  the  first  moment  of  the  sudden  entrance  of  the 
gallant  troop.  The  dark  shadows  of  a winter  morning  hang  round  the  old 
roofs  of  the  town  ; a dashing  trooper  has  upset  the  barrow  of  a negro 
boy,  who  rolls  howling  on  the  ground  ; from  the  old  wooden  porch  of  the 
“Jeff.  Davis”  tavern,  rushes  a man  with  his  arm  in  a sling,  evidently  a 
disabled  rebel  officer,  accompanied  by  the  landlord,  and  from  the  window 
above  an  infuriated  “ maid  of  the  inn  ” is  hurling  a chair  down  upon  the  in- 
vaders’ heads  ; at  the  opposite  end  of  the  street,  a man  has  just  borne  the 
rebel  flag  from  the  roof,  but  has  scarcely  crossed  the  threshold  when  he  is 
shot  down,  with  his  prize  still  grasped ; an  old  man  is  charging  the  rifle 
again  at  the  lower  window  ; across  the  little  square  in  front  scurries  a 
matronly  negress,  bending  as  she  runs,  over  the  little  white  child  she  is 
bearing  away  from  the  skirmish.  Those  who  know  the  difficulties  to  be 
overcome  in  representing  hand-to-hand  cavalry  fights,  will  estimate  Darley 
highly  in  this  work,  wherein  are  four  encounters — men  and  horses  in  the 
most  fierce  and  characteristic  aCtion.  Equally  expressive  in  its  way,  but 
quite  diverse  in  subjeCt,  is  his  illustration  of  a scene  in  the  Pickwick 
Papers,  which  describes  the  visit  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  to  the  in- 
corrigible Sam  Weller  in  prison.  Old  Tony  leans  upon  the  back  of  an 
arm-chair,  enjoying  Sam’s  mock  solicitude  for  the  physical  welfare  of  “ the 
Shepherd,”  while  Mrs.  Weller  is  sentimental  in  another  corner  of  the 
picture. 

Darley  did  not  visit  Europe  until  the  maturity  of  his  life  and  career  ; 
having  married  a daughter  of  the  great  arithmetician,  Zerah  Colburn,  he 
sailed  for  England,  with  his  wife,  as  soon  as  the  war  permitted  him  to  do 
so  with  tranquillity  and  satisfaction.  There  are  advantages  to  an  artist  in 
such  a late  acquaintance  with  the  art-treasures  of  the  old  world  ; his  style 
is  formed,  and  there  is  less  danger  of  his  individuality  being  overlaid  ; he 
knows  precisely  what  to  seek  and  how  to  use  the  resources  opened  to 
him  ; with  a more  self-possessed  enjoyment  and  intelligent  appreciation, 
he  surveys  and  studies  the  hallowed  trophies  of  classic,  mediaeval,  and 
modern  art.  Darley  made  studies  from  models  in  Rome,  and  one  or  two 
compositions  in  color  ; one — “A  Scene  in  the  Streets  of  Rome  ” — is  now 
in  the  possession  of  E.  Bigelow,  Escp,  of  Boston,  Mass.  In  every  part 
of  Europe  through  which  he  passed,  his  pencil-sketches  were  devoted  to 
remarkable  historical  houses  and  characteristic  figures.  He  will  use  much 
of  these  materials  in  large  water-color  compositions,  and  they  will  prove 
invaluable  as  means  of  elaborate  and  authentic  illustrations  of  legend, 
chronicle,  and  song. 


Portraiture,  Genre,  and  Historical  Painters.  475 

Darley  resides  in  an  old  family  homestead  at  Claymont,  Delaware,  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  a farm  where  Wertmuller,  a Swedish  painter, 
best  known  for  his  celebrated  picture  of  Danae,  lived  for  many  years, 
and  died.  Barley’s  professional  business,  however,  leads  to  frequent  so- 
journs in  the  Eastern  cities,  whereby  he  keeps  an  courant  with  whatever 
is  dramatic  and  picturesque  in  the  events  of  the  day,  and  his  talents  and 
industry  find  ample  scope  as  an  illustrator  of  current  and  standard  litera- 
ture. Critics  have  always  noted  special  aptitudes  in  popular  draughts- 
men— superior  skill  in  a certain  class  of  subjects  ; the  differences  in  the 
French,  German,  and  English  artists,  in  this  department,  are  striking  and 
patent : the  bold  and  fantastic  creations  of  Kaulbach,  the  stern  human- 
ity of  Hogarth,  the  local  felicities  of  Leech,  the  ideal  impression  of  Fuseli 
and  Retsch,  are  familiar  examples  of  individuality  of  feeling  and  execu- 
tion. Darley  has  made  a study  of  American  subjects,  and  finds  therein  a 
remarkable  range  from  the  beautiful  to  the  grotesque,  as  is  manifest  when 
his  drawings  are  compared  ; it  is  rare  for  the  same  hand  to  deal  so  aptly 
with  the  graceful  and  the  pensive,  so  vigorously  with  the  characteristic, 
and  so  broadly  with  the  humorous  ; and  exhibit  an  equal  facility  and  felic- 
ity in  true,  literal  transcript,  and  in  fanciful  conception. 

It  is  well  to  consider  if  there  be  anything  ridiculous  in  one’s  manner 
or  appearance,  before  coming  within  the  scope  of  Darley’s  vision.  If  your 
nose  is  retrousez  or  pointed,  your  figure  dumpy,  or  the  way  in  which  you 
try  to  be  agreeable  slightly  exaggerated,  the  quick  perception  and  ready 
crayon  of  Darley  may  transform  you  into  such  a nasal  individuality,  such 
an  incarnated  dump,  or  absurd  exquisite,  that  whoever  once  beholds  the 
sketch,  will  ever  after  involuntarily  laugh  at  the  sight  of  you,  even  at  a 
funeral.  Lord  Brougham  said  that  the  idea  of  his  life  being  written  by 
Lord  Campbell,  the  biographer  of  the  Chancellors,  added  to  the  horrors  of 
death  ; and  the  idea  of  being  caricatured  by  Darley,  may  well  add  to  a 
sensitive  man’s  horrors  of  life.  How  many  worthy  individuals  whom  we 
would  fain  approach  with  respeCt,  or  at  least  courteous  interest,  has  this 
wizard’s  pencil  made  forever  grotesque  to  our  mind’s  eye  ! There  is  one 
who  has  become,  to  our  consciousness,  only  a walking  proboscis,  whose 
nose  we  were  not  ever  aware  of  until  we  saw  it  outlined  by  Darley  ; 
another,  whose  real  features  we  can  never  detedfc,  because  of  the  emphatic 
smirk  with  which  the  same  magician  has  invested  his  face  ; and  a third, 
who  never  looks  to  us  as  if  he  stood  on  terra  firma , but  appears  like  a gal- 
vanized dumpling  bouncing  on  an  imaginary  steed  ; and  these  transforma- 
tions being  based  on  the  natural  language  of  the  parties,  have  just  enough 
truth  to  be  broadly  hinted  by  their  ordinary  appearance,  and  thus  the 
funny  image  and  the  real  person  are  indissolubly  mingled  to  the  fancy. 
Two  or  three  lines  suffice  Darley  to  metamorphose  his  fellow-creatures, 
while  he  preserves  their  identity.  We  recognized  instantly  one  of  his  por- 
traits, although  nothing  was  represented  but  the  hind-quarters  and  the 
back  of  a pair  of  legs.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  result  when  this  facility 
and  characteristic  limning  is  applied  to  illustrate  graphic,  verbal  descrip- 


476 


American  Artist  Life. 

tion.  The  artist  not  only  reproduces,  but  often  transcends  or  satirizes  the 
author’s  conception.  It  is  no  wonder  that  so  clever  and  prolific  a draughts- 
man is  beset  by  the  publishers  ; his  free,  significant,  and  original  sketches 
will  give  a zest  to  any  book.  He  makes  one  realize  how  ironical,  acute, 
observant,  and  natural  it  is  possible  to  be  with  no  instrument  but  a lead- 
pencil  ; he  tells  a story  with  a dash,  reveals  a character  by  a curve,  and 
embodies  an  expression  with  two  or, three  dots.  It  is  better  than  a comedy 
to  look  over  his  sketch-book  ; he  needs  no  coffee  and  pistols  for  two,  but 
makes  a palpable  hit  at  his  adversary  with  a pen-stroke,  that  is  more 
fatal  to  dignity,  if  not  to  life,  than  a sword- thrust.  It  is  well  that  with 
such  a power  to  annoy,  Darley  has  a noble  spirit  ; it  is  only  those  who 
provoke  his  gift  that  he  impales,  or  those  who  are  really  such  a reflection 
on  humanity  that  they  are  worth  preserving  as  specimens  of  nature’s  jour- 
neyman work  ; his  talent  for  caricature  is  usually  elicited  by  an  amiable 
contest  of  wit  with  his  brother-artists,  or  made  the  legitimate  medium  of  a 
deserved  reproof  of  intolerable  affectation  or  overwhelming  conceit ; he 
only  shoots  at  fair  game.  But  there  is  another  side  to  Darley’s  mind.  He 
holds  a master’s  pencil,  and  can  do  justice  to  the  most  earnest  and  pathetic 
sentiment.  Witness  some  of  his  elaborate  compositions,  his  beautiful 
designs,  his  finished  heads  and  groups  ; and  especially  that  work  of  true 
genius,  the  illustrations  of  Judd’s  story  of  “ Margaret.”  We  have  had  noth- 
ing in  this  syle  of  art  to  compare  with  the  exquisite  and  impressive  draw- 
ings in  which  Darley  has  embodied  his  sense  of  the  beauty,  power,  and 
truth  of  that  remarkable  fidtion.  Were  the  execution  of  the  novel  as 
classic  as  its  material  is  original  and  profound,  these  illustrations,  like 
those  of  Flaxman,  would  have  a world-wide  celebrity. 

John  Phillips  is  also  a native  of  the  West,  and  by  means  of  an  old 
palette,  lent  him  by  a portrait-painter,  he  succeeded,  when  quite  young,  in 
producing  a remarkable  likeness  of  a boy  ; and  he  resolved 
Phillips.  to  follow  the  profession,  and  go  abroad  to  study.  Mr. 

Gregg,  of  Canandaigua,  N.  Y.,  gave  him  a letter  to  the 
celebrated  artist,  Gordon,  a veteran  of  the  Scotch  school,  whose  advice  to 
the  young  man  was,  to  “ keep  his  own  style,  and  study  Velasquez.”  Accord- 
ingly he  went  to  Spain,  and  tcopied  several  Murillos  in  the  Madrid  Gal- 
lery, giving  them  the  genuine  old  tint  of  the  originals  ; they  sold  readily 
at  the  legations,  and  to  visitors.  With  great  care  Phillips  made  copies  of 
Velasquez,  greatly  to  his  own  improvement.  He  considers  the  Madrid 
Gallery  the  first  in  the  world,  and  thinks,  with  the  present  facilities  for 
travelling  in  Spain,  it  should  be  more  studied  by  our  artists.  During  his 
sojourn  at  Madrid,  some  splendid  paintings  were  brought  to  light  in  an 
old  convent,  where  they  had  lain  concealed  since  the  days  of  Philip  the 
Second.  This  royal  purveyor  of  the  arts  sent  Velasquez  three  times  to 
European  capitals  to  purchase  the  best  obtainable  pictures ; and  the  result 
may  be  imagined.  Phillips  succeeded  in  reproducing  the  heads  of  Van- 
dyke, Titian,  and  Velasquez,  especially  their  gray  tints,  and  thus  acquired 
a somewhat  peculiar  and  often  highly  effective  style  of  portraiture. 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


4 77 


Francis  B.  Carpenter  was  born  at  Homer,  Cortland  County,  New  York  ; 
he  studied  awhile  with  Thayer,  a pupil  of  Elliott’s  ; his  first  impulse  to 
cultivate  art  was  derived  from  the  sight  of  a picture,  by  his 
classmate,  Dr.  Otis,  now  a well-known  physician  in  New  Carpenter. 
York, — on  their  school-room  door.  Carpenter  has  exe- 
cuted the  portraits  of  several  ex-Presidents  and  Governors  ; that  of  Fillmore 
is  in  the  New  York  City  Hall ; his  portrait  of  David  Leavitt  was  exhibited 
at  the  National  Academy  in  1852.  With  a facility  in  catching  a likeness, 
Carpenter  is  a patient  worker  and  gives  the  details  conscientiously  ; his 
coloring,  however,  is  not  brilliant.  His  name  has  become  associated  with 
the  last  days  of  President  Lincoln’s  memorable  career  ; and  it  is  another 
remarkable  illustration  of  the  incidental  significance  of  artist-life,  that  as  a 
portrait-painter,  Carpenter  was  brought  into  such  frequent  and  intimate 
contaCt  with  the  martyred  President,  that  he  was  enabled  to  report  and  re- 
cord traits  of  the  man,  which,  otherwise,  would  have  been  lost ; and  which 
the  circumstances  of  his  administration  and  death  have  rendered  inex- 
pressibly dear  to  the  American  heart.  Overwhelmed  with  care,  solicitude? 
and  official  work,  in  the  midst  of  the  most  severe  ordeal  it  was  ever  the  lot  of 
a statesman  to  encounter,  the  only  period,  for  months,  during  which,  in  the 
twenty-four  hours,  he  allowed  himself  to  lapse  from  the  strain  of  public 
duty,  was  that  given  to  the  portrait-painter.  During  these  sittings  there 
was  an  abandon , a freedom  of  intercourse,  a self-revelation — all  the  more 
naive  from  previous  restraint ; and  when  that  faithful  life  was  suddenly 
ended,  when  the  assassin’s  shot  laid  low  that  stalwart  frame  and  quenched 
the  soft  light  of  that  vigilant  eye,  —men  began  to  garner  up  their  most  ten- 
der and  characteristic  memories  of  the  man,  to  appreciate  the  pathos 
underlying  the  humor  of  his  honest  nature,  and  to  recall  and  record  his 
words  of  wisdom,  of  mirth,  and  of  faith.  Then  it  was  that  Carpenter,  who 
had  for  half  a year  been  a daily  inmate  of  the  Presidential  mansion,  and 
had  learned  to  love  as  well  as  comprehend  the  man  whom  Providence 
seems  to  have  endowed  and  endeared  for  the  terrible  crisis  in  our  nation’s 
life, — “ set  in  a note-book”  his  conversations  with  Lincoln  during  his 
sittings,  and  at  other  times  of  accidental  intercourse.  It  was  like  the  Pres- 
ident to  communicate  himself  freely  to  a true-hearted  artist,  who,  like 
himself,  had  struggled  up  from  rustic  limits  to  an  expanded  field  of  adivity 
through  relf-reliant  and  honest  intelligence  ; they  were  soon  en  rapport ; 
and  many  a sweet  domestic  feeling,  many  a just  principle,  salient  anecdote, 
and  humane  aspiration  found  utterance  as  the  artist  worked  at  the  likeness  ; 
so  that  a double  revelation  simultaneously  went  on — one  a visible  portrait, 
the  other  an  unconscious,  and,  therefore,  true  manifestation  of  character. 
Carpenter’s  book  entitled  “ Six  Months  in  the  White  House  ” is  not  only 
a valuable  and  interesting  personal  memoir,  but  it  is  an  unique  and  most 
suggestive  produCt  of  American  artist-life. 

It  was  through  Hon.  Schuyler  Colfax  that  arrangements  were  made  for 
Carpenter  to  delineate  the  “ Emancipation  Proclamation,”  or  rather  the 
memorable  Cabinet  meeting  at  which  it  was  decided  upon.  The  vital  and 


4/8 


American  Artist  Life. 


momentous  consequences  of  this  add  have  never  yet  been  fully  realized  ; 
it  hallowed  the  nation’s  struggle  forever  ; it  crowned  with  holy  fame  the 
name  of  Lincoln  ; it  insured  the  triumph  of  the  Republic  ; as  an  historical 
event,  it  stands  alone  and  illustrious  in  the  annals  of  the  age.  It  was  pri- 
marily a military  necessity  ; it  prevented  foreign  intervention  and  a servile 
insurrection,  as  well  as  placed  the  Government  on  the  highest  moral  and 
Christian  ground,  while  grappling  with  a wicked  Rebellion. 

As  if  in  anticipation  of  this  verdidt  of  posterity,  a native  artist  seized 
the  memorable  occasion  as  a subject  for  historical  portraiture.  To  say 
that  he  has  succeeded  in  representing  the  scene  with  authenticity,  that 
he  has  embodied  not  only  its  visible  features,  but  its  moral  impression,  is 
awarding  him  no  common  praise.  It  is  a conscientious  work,  executed 
with  patient  study.  We  could  wish  that  more  grace  and  vitality  inspired 
the  scene,  and  can  imagine  that,  in  the  hands  of  a more  ideal  artist,  higher 
and  more  magnetic  effedt  would  have  been  given  ; but  the  intrinsic  value 
of  the  work  is  none  the  less  apparent.  The  •moment  chosen  is  when  the 
President,  having  declared  his  resolution  to  issue  the  document,  asks  his 
Cabinet  for  suggestions  ; and  having  read  the  Proclamation,  is  listening  to 
Mr.  Seward,  who  made  an  important  proposition,  viz.  : that  the  issue  of 
the  great  charter  should  follow  a decided  military  success,  instead  of  ap- 
pearing at  that  time,  when  McClellan’s  melancholy  failures  had  filled  the 
public  mind  with  dismay. 

The  likenesses  in  the  pidture  are  excellent  ; the  attitudes  are  charac- 
teristic, and  the  grouping  well  managed  ; the  scene,  in  a word,  is  truly  rep- 
resented. But,  beyond  and  above  this,  there  is  a latent  expression  in  the 
picture  which  appeals  to  our  deeper  feelings  ; the  grave,  earnest  look  of  the 
men  thus  deliberating  over  a great  act  of  Christian  policy,  the  solemnity 
of  the  occasion,  the  grandeur  of  national  duty,  pervades  the  mind  as  the 
eye  rests  on  the  faces,  forms,  and  accessories  of  the  work  ; while  the  rough, 
stern  features  of  Jackson,  dimly  visible  in  his  portrait,  the  map  of  the  seat 
of  war,  the  portfolio  of  “ orders  ” — all  and  everything  bring  home  to  the 
spedtator  a critical  and  momentous  epoch  of  national  life.  The  thoughtful, 
earnest,  sad,  but  honest  and  firm  expression  of  the  President  is  singularly 
impressive  ; it  exhibits  a phase  of  the  man  too  often  lost  sight  of  in  the 
facetious  humor  wherewith  he  covered  from  casual  observation  the  deeper 
instindts  of  his  nature.  We  realize,  as  we  gaze,  that  he  feels  his  vast  re- 
sponsibility, and  is  resolved  to  be  true  to  right  and  duty. 

Twibill  died  February  15,  1836.  “Of  the  young  artists  of  the  day  there 
were  none  more  promising  than  he.  His  small  oil  portraits  were  seldom 
equalled  : the  full-lengths  of  Gen.  Conway  and  Col.  Trumbull  attest  his 
excellence.”  Greene,  the  faithful  treasurer  of  the  National  Academy,  has 
executed  several  beautiful  female  portraits,  some  of  them  ideal,  and  remark- 
able for  exquisite  finish  ; Loop  is  well  known  for  progress  and  success  in 
portraiture  ; Hoyt  of  Boston,  Stearns  of  New  York,  Pope  and  Lazarus, 
have  won  fame  in  this  department  ; the  latter’s  portraits  of  Mrs.  Duncan, 
John  Van  Buren,  and  the  Indian  Princess,  belonging  to  M.  O.  Roberts, 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


479 


are  among  his  best  efforts.  Shegogue,  Miller,  Osgood,  Herring,  and  many 
familiar  names,  creditably  illustrate  this  sphere.  Some  of  Mrs.  Hall’s  min- 
iatures are  models  of  delicate  and  true  limning,  and  are  much  prized  in 
New  York;  Cummings,  Shumway,  Freeman,  and  Officer  have  been  much 
noted  in  the  same  department.  The  list  of  portrait-painters  more  or  less 
successful  in  the  United  States  during  the  last  forty  years,  is  a for- 
midable one, — too  long  for  enumeration.  Among  them  are,  Warren,  E. 
W.  Nichols,  Charles  M.  Eaton,  Pope,  Park,  Cafferty,  D.  Johnson,  Fish, 
Barrow,  Burling,  Bishop,  Bridgman,  Cook,  D.  M.  Carter,  Chubb,  Covell, 
Dolph,  Duffy,  Ferguson,  Fern,  Pine,  Satterlee,  Whittaker,  Ryder,  Mor- 
gan, Carmiencke,  Collins,  John  Greenough,  S.  S.  Osgood,  etc.  John  Henry 
Brown,  of  Philadelphia,  is  one  of  the  best  miniature-painters  in  the  coun- 
try, and  is  constantly  employed  ; and  others  of  New  York  ; Alvan  Clark, 
Tenney,  Brackett,  and  others  of  Boston  ; Welch,  T.  Sully,  Jr.,  and  others, 
of  Philadelphia  ; Osgood’s  portrait  of  Mrs.  Norton,  Wight’s  of  Humboldt, 
and  Ames’  of  Pius  IX.,  were  highly  popular  ; Sanford  Thayer,  of  Syracuse, 
N.  Y.  ; while  every  Western,  New  England,  and  not  a few  Southern  towns, 
boast  their  local  portrait-painter.  Marshall,  widely  known  for  his  admira- 
ble engravings  of  Washington  and  Lincoln,  has  executed  fine  portraits. 
Samuel  B.  Waugh’s  portraits  are  favorably  known  in  Pennsylvania;  Gam- 
badella,  and  those  of  Lawrence,  Fagnani,  Augero,  Brandt,  and  other  foreign 
artists,  add  to  the  variety  in  this  prolific  department. 

William  Henry  Furness,  Jr.,  was  admirably  prepared  for  portrait-paint- 
ing by  his  long  practice  in  crayon-drawing.  He  copied  in  crayon  several 
of  Stuart’s  portraits — one  of  President  Quincy ; the  copy 
is  in  Harvard  Hall,  Cambridge.  In  the  estimation  of  many  Furness, 
he  stood  next  to  Seth  Cheney  in  this  line.  After  the  lat- 
ter’s death,  John  Cheney,  the  distinguished  engraver,  requested  Mr.  Butler, 
the  publisher  of  Edith  May’s  verses,  to  employ  Mr.  Furness  to  take  a 
crayon  head  of  that  lady,  as  he  was  to  engrave  it  for  the  volume.  It  is  a 
lovely  head,  and  very  admirably  engraved, — the  likeness  perfect.  In  Phila- 
delphia, Mr.  Edward  Wetherill  has  four  family  portraits,  by  Mr.  Furness, 
all  striking  and  highly  valued.  He  also  took  the  portraits  of  Mr.  Whitney, 
formerly  president  of  the  Reading  Railroad,  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Whit- 
ney’s son  ; of  a daughter  of  Mr.  George  Whitney,  full-length,  at  the  age  of 
twelve,  also  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  George  Whitney,  her  father  ; of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Sellers,  venerable  people,  the  parents  of  the  well-known  machin- 
ists of  Philadelphia,  and  in  their  possession  ; of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Edgar 
Thompson  ; of  Mr.  John  Merrick,  over  ninety  years  of  age,  in  possession 
of  S.  V.  Merrick,  Esq.  ; of  Mrs.  Carvill,  in  possession  of  a daughter,  Mrs. 
F.  Mortimer  Lewis  ; of  Mr.  John  W.  Field,  Mrs.  Charles  Richardson,  and  her 
little  daughter,  in  the  possession  of  C.  R.,  Esq.  ; two  portraits  of  the 
artist’s  father,  one  in  possession  of  Evans  Rogers,  Esq.,  the  other,  which 
has  been  engraved  by  Sartain,  belonged  to  him  ; of  Mrs.  Lucretia  Mott 
and  Hon.  Charles  Sumner,  in  the  possession  of  the  artist’s  father ; of  Rev. 
Dr.  Barnes,  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Earle  ; of  Mr.  John  Haseltine,  the 


4<So 


American  Artist  Life. 


mother  of  the  artist.  “ The  Boy-Student,”  one  of  his  early  heads,  belongs 
to  John  W.  Field,  Esq.  His  portrait  of  Mr.  J.  P.  Lesley  is  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Mr.  L.  Of  his  portrait  of  Hamilton  Wilde,  the  artist,  there  are  two 
copies  ; one  is  in  the  possession  of  the  latter’s  mother,  in  Boston  ; that  of 
Mrs.  Lathrop  belongs  to  Rev.  Dr.  Lathrop,  and  that  of  Miss  Emerson  to 
her  father,  at  Concord,  Mass. 

He  never  slighted  a portrait  ; he  saw  faults  in  all  his  paintings,  but  he 
valued  them  all.  There  was  no  conceit  in  this,  no  vanity.  He  felt  that  there 
was  something  in  them  that  people  would  recognize  and  value,  sooner  or  later. 
He  never  touched  a brush  until  he  went  to  Diisseldorf  to  study  under  Leutze. 

Born  in  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  in  1827,  the  son  of  Rev.  William  H.  Furness, 
the  highly-gifted  and  much-beloved  Unitarian  divine  of  that  city,  the  boy 
grew  up,  when  a new  love  of  art  had  began  to  manifest  itself  around  him  ; 
he  was  familiar  with  several  fine  collections  of  pictures,  and  he  heard  their 
merits  discussed  by  intelligent  men  and  women  ; with  a pure  instinct  for 
.the  beautiful,  and  remarkable  uprightness  of  character,  he  early  seized  the 
latent  charm,  and  appreciated  the  higher  principles  of  art  ; and  when, 
after  his  excellent  domestic  and  school  education,  he  determined  to  make 
it  his  vocation,  every  aid  and  encouragement  was  afforded  him.  He  soon 
became  an  accomplished  draughtsman,  went  abroad  and  studied  at  Diis- 
seldorf, returned,  and  established  himself  as  a portrait-painter  in  his  native 
city  ; married,  and  went  to  Boston,  where  he  opened  a studio,  and  had 
taken  the  highest  rank  in  his  profession  ; won  the  love  and  praise  of  the 
good  and  wise,  and  was  regarded  as  the  most  promising,  progressive,  and 
aspiring  of  our  young  artists — when,  in  his  fortieth  year,  on  the  4th  of 
March,  1867,  he  died,  at  his  residence  at  Cambridge,  from  a sudden  attack 
of  disease  of  the  heart,  induced  by  a severe  cold,  symptoms  of  which  had 
previously  manifested  themselves. 

His  father  said  of  him,  in  a sermon,  after  his  death  : “ His  life  was  not 
only  singularly  happy, — it  was,  in  every  point  of  view,  a great  success. 
About  the  age  of  sixteen,  when  he  left  school,  he  went  into  a counting- 
room.  After  a year’s  service  there,  he  came  to  me,  I remember  it  as  if  it 
were  yesterday,  and  told  me  that  he  never  should  succeed  in  business, — 
that  he  could  not  possibly  recoiled!  prices.  ‘ Why  then,’  I asked,  4 do  you 
not  do  what  you  want  to  do  ? ’ ‘ May  I ? ’ he  asked,  in  return.  4 Certainly,’ 
I replied.  And  without  a day’s  delay  he  took  to  his  pencil ; and  his  earliest 
efforts  received  among  you,  dear  friends,  such  kindly  encouragement,  and 
he  rapidly  gained  such  a name  for  the  fidelity  of  his  likenesses  (in  crayon), 
that  he  was  soon  urged  by  friends  in  Brooklyn  to  go  there  ; and  thence 
he  went  to  Boston,  where  he  found  so  much  occupation  in  crayon-draw- 
ing, that  after  a residence  of  two  or  three  years  in  that  city,  living  very 
simply  all  the  while,  he  was  not  only  wholly  independent  while  yet  hardly 
more  than  a boy, — he  was  enabled  to  accumulate  the  means  of  a more  than 
two  years’  residence  abroad,  whither  he  went,  studying  in  Diisseldorf  and 
Munich,  Dresden  and  Venice.  His  course  was,  so  far  as  outward  circum- 
stances were* concerned,  as  smooth  as  possible. 


Portraiture , Genre,  and  Historical  Painters. 


481 


“ When  he  was  a child,  and  occasionally  ill,  some  of  the  household 
there  were,  who  thought  it  hardly  to  be  desired  that  he  should  get  well, 
as  it  was  difficult  to  imagine  how,  with  his  delicate  nature,  he  was  ever  to 
make  his  way  through  the  rough  world.  But  as  the  years  came  and 
passed,  he  was  never  under  the  necessity  of  making  his  way.  His  way 
was  made  for  him.  And  he  passed  through  the  earlier  period  of  his  life, 
and  indeed  through  his  whole  life,  as  a bird  through  the  air,  as  a beam  of 
light ; only  he  asked  me  once  very  seriously,  whether  I thought  it  quite 
right  that  he  should  pursue,  as  his  business  and  duty,  what  was  so  de- 
lightful to  him.  Yes,  in  a mere  worldly  point  of  view,  his  life  was  very 
successful.  He  was  rich,  in  that  he  had  no  desires  that  ran  beyond  his 
means.  And  in  other  respeCts,  there  are  very  few  who  have  the  privilege 
which  he  possessed  of  comforting  and  blessing  others  more  bountifully 
than  it  was  in  their  power  to  express.  In  repeated  instances  he  was,  as 
it  seemed  to  those  most  interested,  so  supernaturally  successful  in  restor- 
ing the  life-like  images  of  the  dead,  even  when  he  had  not  known  them  in 
life,  that  survivors  poured  out  their  very  hearts  to  him  in  thankfulness,  and 
no  one  ever  received  more  touching  expressions  of  gratitude  than  he. 
When  we  recall  these  instances,  how  can  we  have  the  thought  that  he  has 
been  cut  off,  or  that  his  life  was  not  to  him,  as  it  was  to  us,  a rich,  full, 
most  generous  blessing  ? 

“ It  was  not  on  account  of  any  extraordinary  ability  as  an  artist  that  he 
was  so  wonderfully  successful  in  such  cases.  ‘ Other  artists,’  he  used  to 
say,  ‘ might  do  the  same,  but  they  will  not.’  It  was  a very  painful  work 
to  him, — very  exhausting  ; and  again  and  again  he  was  on  the  point  of 
resolving  to  decline  all  such  attempts,  but  his  human  sympathy  was  too 
strong  to  allow  him  to  make  the  resolve.  And  when  he  undertook  the 
work,  his  whole  might,  mind,  soul,  and  being  were  thrown  into  it.” 

American  art  lost  one  of  its  most  pure  and  promising  votaries  by  the 
death  of  Furness.  Educated  in  an  atmosphere  of  truth,  the  culture  and 
character  of  his  father  early  impressed  him  wdth  high  and  holy  aims  ; for 
the  genuine,  the  aspiring,  and  the  ideal  his  sympathies  were  soon  enlisted  ; 
a singular  refinement  of  nature  prepared  him  to  seek  in  art  no  meretricious 
or  casual  end,  but  the  realization  of  principles,  the  latent  truth  of  nature. 
His  own  culture  was  liberal ; he  was  a scholar  as  well  as  an  artist ; in  Ger- 
man literature  he  followed  the  studies  and  profited  by  the  fine  insight  and 
taste  of  his  father  ; to  an  intellectual  equipment  rare  among  American 
artists,  he  added  the  true  spirit  of  a gentleman,  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word  ; there  was  a candor,  geniality,  and  considerateness  about  him  at  once 
winsome  and  impressive.  Rising  above  mere  conventionality,  seeking, 
in  simplicity  and  truth,  the  elements  of  character  and  the  refined  attri- 
butes of  nature  in  portrait-painting,  his  likenesses  have  a reality  and  a 
magnetism  which  have  seldom  been  surpassed.  There  is  a human  truth 
and  individuality  about  them  which  forms  a striking  contrast  to  the  average 
conventional,  and,  so  to  speak,  profane  portraiture  of  the  day. 

We  recall,  for  instance,  the  portrait  of  Emerson’s  daughter;  of  Mrs, 

3i 


482 


American  Artist  Life. 


Lathrop,  of  Boston — a sister  of  the  gifted  and  lamented  Buckminster  ; and 
one  of  Rev.  Dr.  Furness,  the  artist’s  father,  in  the  very  attitude  and  with 
the  very  air  and  expression  we  have  often  witnessed  in  his  study,  when 
he  stood  leaning  on  the  back  of  an  arm-chair,  with  a book  just  taken  from 
the  shelf — in  a natural  and  characteristic  pose — making  some  genial  remark 
or  suggestive  comment.  The  subdued  and  harmonized  tone  of  coloring, 
the  avoidance  of  all  irrelevant  accessories  and  expedients,  the  simplicity 
of  conception,  accuracy  of  drawing,  and,  above  all,  the  expressiveness 
and  authentic  characterization  in  the  portraiture  of  Furness,  attest  a rev- 
erence for  truth,  a conscientious  ideal,  and  an  artistic  gift,  which  rendered 
him  at  once  respeCted  and  endeared  to  all  noble  lovers  of  art,  and  all  capa- 
ble of  appreciating  its  relation  to  society,  to  character,  and  to  nature.  Amid 
the  mercenary  and  meretricious  influences  around  us,  the  death  of  such  a 
man  and  such  an  artist  is  a special  calamity  ; his  influence  and  example 
were  most  auspicious. 

To  those  near  and  dear  to  him  it  is  impossible  to  offer  consolation  other 
than  their  own  memories  and  faith  suggest,  for  his  was  one  of  those  natures 
as  essential  to  domestic  happiness  as  to  artistic  sympathy;  a son  who  in- 
herited and  illustrated  the  best  gifts  *of  fatherhood — identical  in  mental 
affinities  and  moral  convictions  ; while  in  the  tender  relations  of  family 
and  friendship  his  was  an  inspiring  and  benign  presence,  the  withdrawal 
whereof  is  like  the  going  out  of  a star  that  guides,  cheers,  and  keeps  faith 
and  hope  vivid  and  strong. 

The  circumstances  of  this  bereavement  added  to  its  desolation.  The 
lamented  artist’s  family  were  at  Philadelphia,  on  a visit  to  his  father,  when 
he  was  called  upon  by  some  friends  to  make  a sketch  from  a deceased  per- 
son, and  remained  in  the  room  with  the  corpse  for  an  hour  or  two,  with  the 
window  open.  The  next  day  he  was  ill  with  a severe  cold  ; and  the  day 
after  he  expired. 

Earnestness  of  aim,  singleness  of  purpose,  loyalty  to  the  pursuit  he 
loved,  in  its  possible  and  progressive  rather  than  in  its  attained  standard — 
gave  a simple  dignity  and  advancing  merit  to  his  artist-career.  Only  thirty- 
nine  when  he  died,  how  much  of  rational  anticipation  and  gracious  promise 
died  with  him  ! The  freshness  of  enthusiasm,  the  simplicity  of  faith,  and 
the  patience  of  duty  consecrated  his  life,  and  now  endear  his  memory. 

Geo.  H.  Hall’s  fruit-pieces  enjoyed  a wide  popularity  ; his  pencil  was 
long  in  constant  requisition  for  “ strawberries,”  “peaches,”  “cherries,” 
and  other  trophies  of  Pomona  ; indeed,  at  the  sale  of  his 
Hall.  studies  for  these  works  just  before  he  sailed  for  Europe, 

in  1865,  the  large  sum  of  twelve  thousand  dollars  was  ob- 
tained for  seventy-five  small  but  carefully  elaborated  fruit  and  flower-pieces. 
Our  latest  information  of  his  studies  abroad  is  derived  from  a letter  from 
Mr.  Bryant,  dated  Seville,  Feb.  16,  1867,  in  which  he  says  : “ The  Moorish 
buildings  of  Seville  are  wonderful  things  of  their  kind  ; and  it  has  rich 
treasures  of  art  in  the  paintings  of  the  Spanish  school  ; and  the  humors 
of  the  gipsies  who  inhabit  a part  of  the  town,  are  said  to  be  a source  of 


Portraiture , Genre , Historical  Painters . 483 

entertainment  to  the  stranger.  The  American  artist,  Geo.  H.  Hall,  who  is 
now  here,  finds  among  them  some  striking  subjects  for  his  pencil,  and  will 
return  to  America,  I think,  with  some  finer  works  than  he  has  ever  before 
painted.” 

An  accomplished  disciple  of  the  modern  French  school  is  William  P. 
W.  Dana.  He  is  the  son  of  the  late  Samuel  Dana,  of  Boston — a name 
Ions:  identified  with  the  financial  houses  of  State  street. 

Inclined  to  draw  and  sketch  from  earliest  boyhood,  he  also  Dana, 
manifested  that  love  of  the  sea  which,  from  Robinson 
Crusoe  to  the  last  yacht-voyage  of  an  English  nobleman,  forms  so  popular 
a motive  of  literature  with  the  young.  Toy-ships  and  boating  in  the  har- 
bor were  favorite  pastimes  with  the  embryo  artist.  Born  in  1833,  he  was 
but  twelve  years  old  when  this  nautical  passion  led  to  a serious  adventure. 
He  shipped  on  board  a whaler  as  sailor-boy,  but,  being  enlightened  by  the 
“ old  salts  ” as  to  the  inevitable  hardships  of  such  a voyage,  he  changed 
his  plan,  and  offered  his  services  to  a captain  bound  across  the  Atlantic  ; 
the  vessel  had  been  chartered  to  take  provisions  to  famished  Ireland  ; the 
weather  proved  stormy,  the  voyage  long,  the  duty  hard,  and  the  whole 
experience  a terribly  severe  ordeal  to  the  young  truant,  hitherto  nurtured 
in  comfort  and  cherished  with  maternal  love.  It  was  two  months  and  mid- 
winter before  the  ship  reached  Londonderry.  He  returned  to  America 
sadder  and  wiser,  and,  somewhat  ashamed  of  his  boyish  escapade,  hesi- 
tated about  showing  himself  at  the  parental  home  ; fortunately  he  received 
affectionate  tidings,  and  then  a grateful  welcome.  Indisposed  to  thwart  so 
native  a taste,  his  father  soon  sanctioned  a trip  to  China,  and  then  Dana 
determined  to  enter  a mercantile  house,  in  order  to  make  himself  an  accom- 
plished ship-master.  But  the  art-instinCl  resumed  its  sway  ; he  copied 
two  marine  views,  which  were  loaned  him  by  the  owner,  and  it  was  decided 
that  he  should  study  abroad.  In  1852,  he  went  to  Europe,  travelled,  and, 
in  the  autumn  of  the  next  year,  was  enrolled  among  the  pupils  of  Picot  ; 
and  the  following  spring,  by  means  of  the  customary  competition  drawing, 
was  admitted  to  the  Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts.  His  first  picture  was  “A 
Wreck  on  Fire  at  Sea.”  His  summers  were  passed  in  Normandy  and 
Brittany,  where  he  sketched  craft,  beaches,  cliffs,  costumes,  peasants,  edi- 
fices, fishermen,  etc.,  resuming  work  at  the  Paris  life-schools  in  winter. 

For  awhile  Dana  practised  in  the  atelier  of  La  Poiteven,  to  whom  he 
feels  himself  indebted  for  the  wisest  councils  and  most  amiable  encourage- 
ment. In  1862  he  returned  to  the  United  States,  and  has  since  assidu- 
ously followed  his  art,  which,  with  domestic  enjoyments  and  duties,  absorbs 
his  time  and  attention.  His  subjects  are  various  ; his  original  tendency 
was  for  marine  landscapes,  and  in  these,  especially  where  the  scene  is  the 
coast  of  France,  he  has  been  frequently  successful ; but,  of  late  years,  he 
has  gained  high  repute  as  a delineator  of  animals  ; his  dogs  and  horses 
are  often  admirable.  Many  clever  genre  pieces,  and  a few  fine  portraits, 
have  emanated  from  his  studio  in  New  York  and  Newport,  R.  I.  A striking 
view  of  the  Champs  Elysees  in  winter,  an  illustration  of  Longfellow’s 


484 


American  Artist  Life. 


“Excelsior,”  the  “Land  of  Nod,”  “The  Chase  of  the  Frigate  Constitu- 
tion,” “ Blondina,”  “ Maternal  Care,”  and  a “ Normandy  Farm-yard,”  with 
here  and  there  the  wonderfully  individual  eye,  and  perfectly  imitated  nat- 
ural language  and  individual  peculiarities  of  a canine  or  equine  favorite — 
impress  the  spectator  with  Dana’s  rare  equipment  and  dexterous  execu- 
tion. A critic  says  of  “An  English  Greyhound,”  from  his  pencil  : “ It  is  a 
pleasing  picture.  We  look  for  life  and  spirit  in  the  eye,  and  anatomy  in 
the  figure  : we  find  refinement  of  character  and  the  elegance  of  rank  in  the 
drawing  of  the  hound.  An  apparent  silvery  quality  of  color  and  delicate 
background  are  very  agreeable  in  this  picture.”  His  method  and  manner, 
his  coloring  and  ideas  of  art,  are  remarkably  loyal  to  the  French  school  ; 
and  there  is  an  absence  of  crudity  and  a refinement  of  taste  in  his  works 
which  are  rare  among  our  artists.  Of  his  varied  talent  and  attractive 
coloring  a glance  at  his  works  instantly  convinces  us  ; they  are  unequal  in 
merit,  but  invariably  artistic  in  feeling.  Dana  excels  in  depicting  children 
and  animals  ; none  of  our  artists  have  so  well  given  the  sentiment  of  such 
works.  “ Heart’s-Ease,”  a convalescent  child  with  that  flower  in  her  lap, 
is  pathetic  in  the  extreme  ; “Cliffs  at  Sunset,”  is  owned  by  Miss  C.  Mur- 
ray; “Waiting  for  the  Fishing-Boats,”  belongs  to  B.  W.  Gilbert,  Esq.  ; 
“Low  Tide  at  Yport  and  French  Fishing-Craft,”  to  T.  B.  Winchester, 
Esq.  ; “ Moonlight  Coast  Scene,”  to  Monsieur  Auroy  ; of  “ Breakers 
Ahead  ” the  owner  is  Dr.  George  T.  Elliot  ; “ La  Chaumiere,”  William 
H.  Stewart,  Esq.  ; “ The  Needles  of  Etretat,”  William  B.  Astor,  Esq.  ; 
“ Excelsior,”  Monsieur  Surville  ; “ Morning  on  the  Coast,”  J.  B.  Murray, 
Esq.;  “ Mt.  St.  Michael,”  Miss  A.  Willett;  “Admirals  in  Embryo,” 
James  A.  Suydam,  Esq.  ; “ Chase  of  the  Frigate  Constitution,”  Abbott 
Lawrence,  Esq.;  “The  Mimic  Race,”  C.  H.  Ludington,  Esq.  ; “Blon- 
dina,” Mrs.  Cambridge  Livingston;  “ Les  Champs  Elysees,”  B.  S.  Rotch, 
Esq.  ; “Milo,”  T.  P.  Bronson,  Esq. ; “Land  of  Nod,”  William  H.  Bridg- 
man, Esq. ; “ Cour  de  Ferme  at  Etretat,”  purchased  from  the  Paris  Exhi- 
bition of  1 86 1,  for  one  of  the  prizes  of  the  Societe  des  Beaux  Arts  de  Paris 
et  Londres  ; “ The  Stable  Window,”  “ French  Peasant  Girl,”  donation  to 
the  New  York  Sanitary  Fair  ; “ Kit-Kat  of  a Dog,”  Edward  R.  Bell,  Esq.  ; 
“La  Petite  Normande,”  W.  S.  Haseltine,  Esq.;  “Noon,  Farm-yard 
Scene,”  FI.  P.  Kidder,  Esq.  ; “Envying  Another’s  Lot,”  R.  M.  Cushing, 
Esq.  ; “Foggy  Morning  on  the  Coast  of  Normandy,”  Dr.  George  T.  El- 
liot, and  “ There’s  Many  a Slip  Betwixt  the  Cup  and  the  Lip.” 

How  delicate  and  fanciful  are  some  of  the  conceptions  of  Dana,  we 
may  know  by  his  choice  of  subjedls,  which  range  from  the  broadest  humor 
to  the  most  naive  sentiment ; even  Mother  Goose  fantasies  inspire  his 
pencil,  as  witness  the  expressive  sketch  of  the  “Three  Wise  Men  of 
Gotham,”  whose  individuality  is  apparent  in  their  diverse  attitudes  and 
expression,  as  the  bowl  in  which  they  have  incontinently  embarked  bobs 
about  on  the  restless  waves;  “A  Girl  Feeding  her  Doll”  would  seem 
quite  a limited  theme ; but  in  the  apt  hands  of  this  artist,  according  to  an 
art-critic  : — 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


4S5 


“ It  is  exceedingly  delicate  in  sentiment,  and  lovely  in  expression.  The 
colors  are  harmoniously  blended,  the  drawing  correct  and  spirited,  and  the 
entire  treatment  marked  by  great  power  and  truthfulness.  The  face  of  the 
girl  is  very  beautiful,  and  filled  with  thoughtful  tenderness.  Over  her  head 
a white  kerchief  is  tied,  and  from  beneath  its  folds  her  golden  hair,  escap- 
ing, rests  on  her  placid  brow.” 

This  family  name  is  auspiciously  associated  with  Art,  first  through  one 
of  the  brothers,  Thomas  F.  Hoppin,  who  designed  the  figures  of  the  great 
window  in  Trinity  Church,  New  York,  and  modelled  a dog 
that  was  cast  in  bronze,  the  first  instance  of  the  kind  here,  Hoppin. 
and  was  much  admired,  and  took  the  prize  at  the  Ameri- 
can Institute.  He  was  born  in  Providence,  R.  I.,  and  early  manifested  a 
taste  for  drawing,  in  which  he  was  instructed  by  John  R.  Smith,  of  Phila- 
delphia. In  1837  he  went  to  Paris,  and  studied  under  Delaroche  ; the  next 
year  he  returned  and  designed  the  figures  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  above 
referred  to.  He  has  published  spirited  etchings  and  designs  on  wood. 
The  elder  brother,  William  J.  Hoppin,  although  educated  for  the  bar,  has 
been  one  of  the  most  efficient  and  tasteful  promoters  of  art : as  an  officer 
of  the  American  Art-Union,  he  edited  a “Bulletin,”  so-called,  filled  with 
the  freshest  intelligence  on  the  subjeCt,  and  abounding  in  judicious  criticism  ; 
his  personal  interest  in  several  of  our  artists  favorably  introduced  their 
works  to  the  public,  and  encouraged  their  early  studies  ; he  has  written 
many  admirable  papers  on  art,  historical,  biographical,  and  critical,  some 
of  which  have  been  published,  and  others  read  before  the  New  York  His- 
torical Society,  the  Rhode  Island  Art  Association,  the  Century  Club, 
etc.  He  was  appointed  an  Imperial  Juror  for  the  department  of  Fine 
Arts  in  the  Paris  exposition  of  1867.  His  younger  brother,  Augustus 
Ploppin,  is  an  artist  by  profession,  and  widely  known  for  his  accurate, 
expressive,  and  elaborate  drawings,  and  especially  through  his  finished 
and  effedtive  illustrations  of  several  popular  works  ; he  was  born  in  Pro- 
vidence, R.  I.,  studied  law,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar ; but  his  love  of 
art  proved  too  strong  to  admit  of  a legal  career,  and  he  went  to  Europe  to 
examine  the  works  of  the  great  masters.  Since  his  return  he  has  chiefly 
devoted  himself  to  drawing  on  wood.  His  illustrations  of  Butler’s  Poem  of 
“Nothing  to  Wear,”  “The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table,”  “ The 
Potiphar  Papers,”  “ The  Arabian  Days’  Entertainments,”  “ Mrs.  Parting- 
ton,” etc.,  are  full  of  character  and  graceful  execution.  Some  of  the  elabo- 
rate pen-and-ink  drawings  of  this  artist  surpass  in  finish,  force,  and  beauty, 
anything  of  the  kind  produced  in  this  country. 

Another  accomplished  and  more  ideal  draughtsman  is  William  Tiffany, 
of  Baltimore,  whose  pencil  illustrations  of  Tennyson  and 
Longfellow  are  remarkable  for  delicate  truth  and  refined  Tiffany, 
conception. 

A son  of  Major  Whistler,  U.  S.  A.,  who  is  also  from  Baltimore,  has 

made  some  curious  experiments  in  color,  and  some  of 

’ Whistler. 

his  sketches  are  singularly  effective.  A critic  of  the 


486 


American  Artist  Life. 


Paris  Exposition  of  1867,  thus  describes  and  estimates  Mr.  Whistler’s 
somewhat  numerous  contributions  to  the  American  Department : 

“ Mr.  Whistler’s  etchings  attract  a good  deal  of  attention,  and  differ  from 
his  paintings  in  meriting  it.  They  display  a free  hand  and  a keen  eye  for 
effedt.  Three  of  the  oil  pictures  are  blurred,  foggy,  and  imperfedt  marine 
pieces.  The  fourth  is  called  the  “ White  Girl,”  and  represents  a powerful 
female  with  red  hair,  and  a vacant  stare  in  her  soulless  eyes.  She 
is  standing  on  a wolf-skin  hearth-rug — for  what  reason  is  unrecorded.  The 
picture  evidently  means  vastly  more  than  it  expresses — albeit  expressing 
too  much.  Notwithstanding  an  obvious  want  of  purpose,  there  is  some 
boldness  in  the  handling  and  a singularity  in  the  glare  of  the  colors  which 
cannot  fail  to  divert  the  eye,  and  to  weary  it.” 

Few  of  our  younger  artists  have  proved  so  effective  in  their  command 
of  the  richer  combinations  of  color  as  Hamilton  G.  Wilde,  of  Boston. 

His  genre  and  architedlural  pieces — the  former  often  de- 
Wilde.  voted  to  Italian  street  scenes  and  picturesque  mountain 
costumes,  and  the  latter  glowing  and  mellow,  with  sunny 
bridges  of  Venice — are  among  the  most  novel  and  pleasing  memorials  ol 
the  land  of  song,  which  American  travellers  have,  within  a few  years, 
brought  home  as  trophies  of  native  talent.  His  “ Girl  and  Doves  ” be- 
longs to  T.  Tuckerman,  of  New  York;  and  among  others  of  his  finely- 
colored  and  suggestive  works  are  the  “Sierra  Nevada,”  the  “Roman 
Campagna,”  the  “ Market  of  Granada.”  A “ Scene  in  Venice  ” belongs 
to  J.  W.  Field,  of  Philadelphia,  and  a portrait  of  Mr.  Newhall.  His 
“ Roman  Peasant  ” is  in  the  Belmont  Gallery.  His  “ Belle  Dame  sans 
Merci  ” and  “ Sultana  ” are  in  the  possession  of  C.  J.  Peterson,  of  Phila- 
delphia. 

Another  genre  painter  who  has  exhibited  talent  and  won  admirers  is 
Albert  F.  Bellows,  a descendant  of  the  old  New  England  family  of  that 
name,  whose  progenitor  came  over  in  the  Hopewell,  in 
Bellows.  1634.  Early  addidted  to  drawing,  and  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen apprenticed  to  a lithographer  in  Boston,  and  subse- 
quently visiting  Antwerp  and  Paris,  this  artist  soon  acquired  considerable 
technical  dexterity,  and  has  shown  a special  talent  for  a vein  of  genre  art 
which,  from  the  familiarity  of  the  subjedts  and  the  simple  nature  expressed, 
win  and  retain  popular  sympathy.  The  subjedts  indicate  this.  Among 
the  successful  pidtures  of  Bellows  are — “ The  First  Pair  of  Boots,  “ The 
Sorrows  of  Boyhood,”  “Approaching  Footsteps,”  “ City  Cousins,”  “The 
Broken  Pitcher,”  “ Frost  Pencillings,”  “ The  Lost  Child,”  etc. 

Blauvelt  is  another  name  identified  with  this  department ; 
Blauvelt.  his  “Warming  Up”  and  “ Counterfeit  Bill  ” have  much 
truth  to  fadt  and  charadter. 

Eugene  Benson’s  motive  is  more  poetical  ; the  “ Fireside  Reverie  ” 
reminds  us  somewhat  of  Fr£re  : a young  girl  sits  by  a 
Benson.  stove,  gazing  in  abstradted  mood  into  the  fire  : the  posi- 
tion and  expression  are  full  of  the  unconsciousness  which 


Portraiture , Genre,  and  Historical  Painters.  487 

betokens  self-absorption.  This  artist  of  late  has  devoted  himself  to 
aesthetic  criticism. 

In  genre  subjects  of  a more  humble,  and  especially  those  of  a juvenile 
and  sportive  kind,  J.  G.  Brown,  a young  artist  of  English  birth,  has  pro- 
duced several  favorite  delineations  ; “ Curling,”  which  the 
skating  facilities  of  the  Central  Park  has  made  a familiar  J.  G.  Brown, 
winter  pastime  in  New  York,  was  among  the  popular  little 
works  of  recent  exhibitions,  and  another  picture,  called  “ Marching  Along,” 
won  much  attention,  especially  among  lovers  and  observers  of  child- 
hood : — 

“ Here  a score  of  country  children  have  formed  themselves  into  a pro- 
cession, and  are  going  behind  a drum  and  dinner-horn,  over  a brook  and 
through  the  woods,  to  have  a Union  celebration  in  the  open  air.  Every 
child  is  a character.  Foremost  goes  the  small  boy  whose  whole  soul  is  in 
his  dinner-horn,  and  whose  brains,  to  judge  from  appearances,  will  pre- 
sently be  blown  through  it.  Then  follows  the  drummer,  dignified  to  the 
last  degree,  and  looking  the  knee-high  picture  of  indignation  at  the  frivo- 
lous orderly  sergeant,  who  won’t  be  orderly  at  all,  but  persists  in  falling 
out  of  the  ranks  and  crossing  the  brook  by  wading  with  his  trousers  rolled 
up,  instead  of  taking  the  orthodox  military  route  over  the  bridge.  But  the 
most  lovely  creation  of  all  is  a beatified  little  girl,  who  has  been  crowned 
queen  of  the  occasion  with  a wreath  of  posies,  and  whose  mild  pure  face 
looks  up  with  an  innocent  quiet  joy  which  nothing  in  our  memory  of  child- 
pictures  can  surpass.  Her  sympathetic  little  friend,  who  nestles  on  her 
shoulder  with  a face  of  unenvious  pleasure,  is  only  less  sweet.  Behind 
these,  through  every  grade  of  character,  the  procession  shades  off  to  an 
admirably  stolid  little  child,  who  don’t  half  know  whether  he  will  join  the 
Union  or  not — a pudgy-legged,  hang-back  little  border-state  boy — a sort 
of  Kentucky  in  petticoats.” 

His  “First  Cigar”  belongs  to  M.  O.  Roberts,  and  his  “Trudging  in 
the  Snow  ” to  R.  L.  Stuart.  “Resting  in  the  Woods,”  “Against  his 
Will,”  and  “ The  Little  Peacemaker  ” have  expressive  merit. 

Walter  Brown  has  exhibited  several  highly-finished  small  pictures,  which 
attracted  attention  by  the  elaborateness  of  their  detail  and 
the  evident  care  with  which  they  were  painted.  Particu-  Walter  Brown, 
larly  noticeable  was  the  pidture  of  “ An  Angler  Making 
Flies,”  and  another  representing  a fireplace  in  an  old  country-house. 

In  quite  a decisive  style,  the  son  of  Robert  Weir  has  recently  brought 
new  artistic  credit  to  the  honored  name  he  bears,  by  delineating,  with  a 
skill  quite  worthy  of  a Flemish  adept  in  interiors,  the  fa- 
mous foundry  at  Cold  Spring,  initiated  years  ago  by  Gou-  J.  F.  Weir, 
verneur  Kemble,  and  of  late  famous  for  its  manufacture  of 
Parrot  guns.  Those  familiar  with  the  scene  presented  at  one  of  these 
establishments  at  night,  during  the  casting  process,  are  not  likely  to  forget 
the  impression  derived  from  the  vast  dusky  space,  lit  up  by  the  fiery  glow 
o.  the  furnaces,  or  the  streams  of  molten  iron,  with  the  huge  dusky  figures 


488 


American  Artist  Life . 

moving  to  and  fro,  like  demons  of  the  mine,  or  mysterious  creatures  such 
as  people  the  legends  of  the  Hartz  Mountains  or  the  Black  Forest.  We 
know  of  no  pidture  which  so  deftly  elaborates  our  industrial  economy  as 
this  clever  and  effective  picture  of  the  West  Point  Foundry,  by  John  F. 
Weir  ; he  has  spared  no  pains  to  render  it  authentic  ; the  figures  are 
modelled  from  some  of  the  athletes  of  the  establishment ; the  details  are 
exact,  and  the  extremely  difficult  task  of  eliminating  all  the  light  in  the 
picture,  from  the  molten  metal  passing  from  the  cauldron  into  the  mould, 
has  proved  a complete  success. 

His  “ Christmas  Ball,”  “ Culprit  Fay,”  and  other  genre  works,  indicate  a 
blending  of  the  real  and  ideal  which  are  full  of  promise.  His  first  work 
was  a fine  sunset  from  West  Point,  painted  at  West  Point  at  the  age  of 
seventeen  ; he  soon  after  came  to  New  York,  and,  encouraged  by  his 
friend  Gifford,  opened  a studio,  and  has  since  worked  progressively. 

Noble,  who  has  immortalized  the  heroism  of  Margaret  Garner,  is  about 
to  achieve  a greater  work  in  rendering  upon  canvas  that  beautiful  incident 
in  the  life  of  John  Brown,  when,  on  his  way  from  his 
Noble.  prison  to  the  gallows,  he  gave  his  blessing  to  a negro 
child.  The  picture  tells  the  story  with  marvellous  power. 
Noble’s  pidture  of  the  “ Slave  Mart  ” has  been  exhibited  in  the  rotunda  of 
the  Capitol  at  Washington,  and  in  Boston  has  attracted  much  attention. 

J.  W.  Wood  has  delineated  the  African  as  he  developed  during  the  late 
war — as  a “contraband,”  a “recruit,”  and  a “veteran  ; ” as  a new  phase 
of  American  art  they  deserve  attention.  A critic  has  well 
Wood.  described  them  as  follows  : — 

“ The  three  pictures  referred  to  illustrate  three  eras  in 
the  life  of  an  American  negro,  and  tell  his  story  so  well  that  no  one  can 
fail  to  understand  it.  In  the  first  the  newly-emancipated  slave  approaches 
a provost-marshal’s  office  with  timid  step,  seeking  to  be  enrolled  among 
the  defenders  of  his  country.  This  is  the  genuine  ‘contraband.’  He  has 
evidently  come  a long  journey  cn  foot.  His  only  baggage  is  contained  in 
an  old  silk  pocket-handkerchief.  He  is  not  past  middle  age,  yet  priva- 
tion and  suffering  have  made  him  look  prematurely  old.  In  the  next  we 
see  him  accepted,  accoutred,  uniformed,  and  drilled,  standing  on  guard  at 
the  very  door  where  he  entered  to  enlist.  This  is  the  ‘volunteer.’  His 
cares  have  now  vanished,  and  he  looks  younger,  and,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
happy  and  proud.  In  the  third  piCture  he  is  a one-legged  veteran,  though 
two  years  since  we  first  saw  him  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  passed.  He 
approaches  the  same  office  to  draw  his  ‘ additional  bounty  ’ and  pension, 
or  perhaps  his  back  pay. 

“ These  pictures  have  little  value  as  far  as  their  technical  qualities  are 
concerned.  Whatever  merits  they  have  are  of  drawing  rather  than  color. 
But  their  best  qualities  consist  in  the  clearness  with  which  they  tell  their 
story,  and  the  evident  sympathy  of  the  artist  with  his  subject.  These  are 
the  charms  by  which  all  who  see  them  are  attracted.  The  likeness  of  the 
hero  is  admirably  preserved  in  all  three  pictures,  and  the  effedt  of  varying 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters . 489 

circumstances  is  clearly  expressed  in  the  faces.  The  regulation  uniform 
in  ‘ The  Recruit  ’ is  excellently  painted.  The  artist  must  have  been  a 
shrewd  observer  of  how  the  common  soldiers — naturally  slouchy  in  their 
habits — wear  their  clothes  ; all  of  which  he  has  given  with  much  fidelity 
to  nature.  He  has  put  his  hero  upon  the  same  spot  in  each  pidture,  and, 
by  omitting  all  suggestive  details,  has  bestowed  all  his  labor  upon  the 
figures.  This  is  not  a merit,  but  goes  to  show  that  when  figure-drawing  is 
corredt  and  expressive,  accessories  are  unnecessary.  P3ut  Mr.  Wood’s 
backgrounds  are  all  very  conventional  in  treatment,  being  disagreeably  and 
unnecessarily  black,  and  injure  rather  than  improve  the  general  effedt  of 
the  pidtures.” 

One  of  the  best  colorists  among  our  younger  artists  is  John  Lafarge; 
and  although  the  state  of  his  health  has  prevented  the  execution  of  many 
elaborate  works,  he  has  painted  a few  Apostolic  figures, 
designed  for  a church,  which  have  much  of  the  feeling  Lafarge, 
of  the  old  masters.  His  flowers  have  been  especially 
admired  for  their  unconventional  execution  and  the  brilliant  truth  of 
their  hues  ; he  is  an  Sieve  of  the  modern  French  school,  and  among 
the  artists  his  style  is  much  praised.  “ His  flowers,”  says  a critic, 
“ have  no  botanical  truth,  but  are  burning  with  love  and  beauty.” 

Recent  original  and  significant  drawings  by  this  artist,  illustrative  of 
Browning’s  subtle  conceptions,  indicate  as  remarkable  a skill  in  composi- 
tion as  he  previously  exhibited  in  color,  and  would,  if  elaborately  executed, 
prove  admirable  and  interesting  pidtures. 

Nast  has  proved  one  of  the  most  spirited  and  authentic  draughtsmen 
of  the  battle  and  other  scenes  incident  to  the  late  Civil 
War;  his  illustrations  for  Harper’s  Weekly  show  talent  Nast. 
and  fidelity. 

He  is  an  original  designer,  and  exhibits  a remarkable  grasp  of  the  great 
questions  at  issue  ; some  of  his  designs  were  the  most  effedtual  “ campaign 
documents  ” against  the  rebels  and  their  sympathizers. 

George  A.  Baker  is  highly  esteemed  for  his  portraiture  of  women  and 
children  ; there  is  often  a clear  and  vivid  flesh-tint,  a grace  of  expression, 
and  a beautiful  refinement  in  his  portraits  which  render 
them  at  once  attradtive  and  authentic.  His  studio  in  New  Baker. 

York  is  rarely  without  some  gem  of  color  and  expression. 

Originally  devoted  to  miniature-painting,  much  of  the  delicacy  and  fidelity 
of  his  pencil  is  owing  to  the  high  finish  and  exadtitude  acquired  in  that 
kind  of  limning.  His  full-length  of  L.  M.  Hoffman  is  in  the  Mercantile 
Library,  New  York  ; a portrait  of  a child  of  A.  M.  Cozzens,  in  the  posses- 
sion of  that  gentleman,  is  a work  of  rare  beauty  and  worth,  and  was 
seledted  for  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1867.  There  are  three  charadteristic 
works  of  Baker  in  the  colledtion  of  Marshall  O.  Roberts — “Love  at  First 
Sight,”  “Wild  Flowers,”  and  “ Children  in  the  Woods.”  His  latest  achieve- 
ments are  thus  justly  recorded  by  a recent  Academy  critic  : 

' George  Baker  has  no  large  pidtures  which  add  to  his  established  repu- 


490 


American  Artist  Life. 

tation,  but  he  has  never  painted  a small  portrait  more  charming,  in  any 
artistic  sense,  than  one  of  a beautiful  young  girl  in  a gipsy  hat,  which  he 
calls  4 Coming  from  the  Woods.’  Here  he  attains  the  highest  triumph  of 
the  portrait-painter.  He  makes  a likeness  which  cannot  fail  to  be  eminently 
individual,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  avoids  all  appearance  of  being  mainly 
intended  as  a portrait,  by  the  perfect  unconciousness  of  its  manner  and  the 
artistic  arrangement  of  its  surroundings.  No  one  who  visits  our  exhibition 
can  have  escaped  the  conclusion  that  to  make  a fine  portrait  and  a fine 
picture  on  the  same  canvas  is  the  most  difficult  task  in  the  world.  The 
young  ladies  who  get  painted  among  out-door  accessories  almost  universally 
seem  to  have  selected  their  clump  of  trees  after  protradted  consultation 
with  the  landscape-gardener,  and  to  have  propounded  to  Madame  Demarest 
the  subsequent  problem : Given  three  maples,  a pear-tree,  and  a convol- 
vulus, what  style  would  look  prettiest  for  my  new  tarletan  ? George 
Baker’s  lovely  little  pidlure  is  the  antipodes  of  this  kind  of  thing.  The 
young  maid  has  come  ‘from  the  woods’  without  suspicion  that  a portrait- 
painter  lurks  in  ambush  on  the  hither  edge,  and  Baker  seems  to  have 
caught  her  sweet  face  quite  without  her  knowing  it,  just  as  it  gladdened 
to  see  somebody  coming  to  meet  her  whom  she  loved.  There  is  another 
portrait  of  one  of  our  loveliest  women — delicate  in  expression  and  tender 
in  flesh-tones  as  Baker’s  best  work.” 

Baker  is  a native  of  New  York,  and  most  of  his  portraits  are  there  ; 
many  of  his  works  are  in  the  possession  of  G.  M.  Vanderbilt,  Esq. 

A portrait-painter  named  Thompson  was  professionally  occupied  in  the 
Southern  States  half  a century  ago  ; and  afterwards  settled  at  Middle- 
borough,  Mass.,  where  two  of  his  sons  acquired,  at  an 
Thompson.  early  age,  facility  in  that  art.  Jerome  Thompson  is  chiefly 
known  by  his  rustic  scenes,  half  landscape  and  half  rural 
labors  or  sport  ; while  his  brother  Cephas  G.  Thompson  has  long  been 
assiduous  in  portraiture.  He  left  the  paternal  teaching  and  home  at  the 
age  of  eighteen,  and  went  to  the  neighboring  town  of  Plymouth,  where  he 
made  portraits  of  the  sea-captains  and  their  families  ; two  years  after  he 
was  at  work  in  Boston,  where  he  copied  the  casts  from  the  antique  at  the 
Athenaeum,  and,  with  Healy  and  other  young  art-students,  practised  draw- 
ing under  the  guidance  of  D.  C.  Johnston,  then  a popular  comic  draughts- 
man. He  then  set  up  his  easel  in  Providence,  R.  I.,  and  was  prosperously 
employed  there  until  1837,  when  he  removed  to  New  York,  and  opened  a 
studio  in  the  University  Building.  During  the  ten  succeeding  years 
Thompson  was  more  or  less  the  fashionable  portrait-painter  ; two  fancy- 
pieces,  idealized  likenesses  of  beautiful  young  women,  called  “ Spring  ” 
and  u Autumn,”  gained  him  reputation  ; they  are  now  in  the  possession  of 
Charles  Sprague,  Esq.,  of  Boston  ; his  studio  was  also  attractive  from  the 
full-lengths  of  children,  of  which  several  were  quite  successful ; and  also 
because  of  a series  of  portraits  of  American  authors  executed  by  the  artist 
as  a labor  of  love  ; among  them  Dr.  Francis,  Longfellow,  Bryant,  Fenno 
Hoffman,  William  H.  Simmons,  Dapontfi  the  younger,  Mrs.  Oaksmith, 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  491 

Mrs.  Embury,  etc.  The  portrait  of  Hoffman  is  in  the  collection  of  the 
N.  Y.  Historical  Society.  In  1847  Thompson  was  employed  at  New  Bed- 
ford, and  subsequently  again  at  Boston  ; and,  in  1852,  visited  Europe  with 
several  commissions  ; joined  by  his  family  the  succeeding  year,  he  remained 
seven  years  at  Rome,  passing  the  summers  at  Florence,  Perugia,  and 
among  the  mountains.  During  this  period  he  painted  numerous  illustra- 
tions of  Italian  life,  and  made  several  admirable  copies  from  the  old  mas- 
ters, among  them  one  of  Beatrice  Cenci,  taken,  as  it  were,  by  stealth,  as 
the  picture  was  only  accessible  once  a week,  and  but  for  a limited  time. 
Another  memorable  copy  is  the  Staffa  Madonna  of  Raphael,  in  the 
Conestabili  Palace  at  Perugia.  The  noble  proprietor  told  the  artist  that 
but  two  copies  had  ever  been  taken  previous  to  his  own — one  for  an  Eng- 
lish nobleman,  and  one  for  Louis  Napoleon.  Bryant  is  the  owner  of  this 
work.  The  subjects  of  Thompson’s  compositions  are,  “ The  Guardian 
Angels  of  Infancy,”  the  “ Angel  of  Truth,”  the  “ Liberation  of  St.  Peter,” 
the  “ Brigand’s  Daughter,”  the  “ Mother’s  Prayer,”  and  “ Chastity.”  His 
portraits  are  numerous,  and  chiefly  distributed  in  New  York  and  New 
England.  He  has  painted  a few  elaborate  family  groups.  This  estimable 
artist  has  been  much  favored  in  his  social  relations,  having  enjoyed  the 
friendship  of  many  leading  Swedenborgians,  with  whose  faith  he  strongly 
sympathizes.  He  has  also  several  true  friends  among  the  authors  of  the 
country.  Hawthorne  compliments  him  in  the  “Marble  Faun,”  and  Jarvis, 
in  his  “Art  Idea,”  accredits  him  with  a remarkable  knowledge  and  appre- 
ciation of  the  Italian  painters  of  the  fifteenth  century.  He  married  a sis- 
ter of  Anna  Mowatt  Ritchie,  and  within  a few  years  has  resumed  his 
professional  labors  in  New  York. 

Guy  is  a painter  of  considerable  merit  and  decided  progressive  genre  art ; 
as  witness  his  “Field  Day,”  “Feeding  the  Ducks,” 

“The  Sisters,”  and  “The  PiCture-Book,”  in  the  collec-  Guy. 

tion  of  M.  O.  Roberts,  of  New  York. 

Homer’s  “Prisoners  to  the  Front,”  an  aCtual  scene  in  the  War  foi 
the  Union,  has  attracted  more  attention,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  some  inadequacy  in  color,  won  more  praise  Homer, 
than  any  genre  picture  by  a native  hand  that  has  appeared 
of  late  years. 

“ Lull  in  the  Fight,”  by  Edwin  Forbes,  is  a large  picture  containing  some 
thirty  well-drawn  figures,  disposed  in  natural  attitudes  be- 
hind a breastwork  which  seems  to  have  been  hastily  thrown  Forbes, 
up  in  the  woods  in  anticipation  of  a battle.  It  is  a life-like 
scene,  and  one  of  the  best  war-piCtures  which  has  been  exhibited. 

Copeland,  a new  name,  has  executed  a strong  picture  called  “ Falling 
Leaves.”  It  is  the  old  scene  of  the  trees  shedding  their 
withered  foliage,  but  it  is  treated  with  simplicity,  and  has  Copeland, 
vigor  of  touch,  and  is  good  in  color. 

J.  M.  Falconer  has  a special  preference  for  old  houses  as  subjects  for 
his  pencil ; among  others  he  has  painted  the  house  wherein  Jefferson  wrote 


49  2 American  Artist  Life. 

the  Declaration  of  Independence,  in  the  possession  of  E.  L.  Howe,  of  New 
h ork  ; that  where  Robert  Fulton  was  an  apprentice,  in  Philadelphia,  and 
an  “ Old  Clothes  Store  ” in  Boston — in  the  possession  of  J.  F.  Kensett. 

Mr.  Falconer  has  for  many  years  proved  himself  an  intel- 
Falconer.  ligent  lover  of  art  and  artists  ; he  was  a member  of  the  first 
Water  Color  Society  ever  instituted  here,  and  is  one  of  the 
board  of  control  of  the  present  ; he  is  the  efficient  financial  friend  of  his 
confreres ; and,  although  engaged  in  business  pursuits,  he  is  the  faithful 
Treasurer  of  the  Artists’  Fund  Society.  He  was  born  at  Edinburgh,  Scot- 
land, in  i82o,  and  came  to  America  in  1836.  A hardware  merchant,  he  de- 
votes his  leisure  to  painting  in  oil  and  water  colors. 

Mr.  Butler,  who  has  given  one  arm  to  his  country,  has  lately  painted, 
at  Rome,  a Campagna  Scene,  where  “the  genuine  shep- 
Butler.  herd,  true  to  the  faCt,  seems  trying  how  long  it  is  possible 
to  live  without  thinking,  leaving  the  exercise  of  intellect 
and  the  care  of  his  charge  to  a most  wide-awake,  important,  and  danger- 
ous-looking dog,  which  keeps  watch  at  his  side.” 

Gould 'has  painted  a fine  picture  of  “The  Oriental 
Gould.  Scribe” — a reminiscence  of  his  travels  in  Egypt  and  Asia 

Mr.  Nehlig  is  another  of  our  native  artists  whose  works  will  do  honor  to 
his  country.  His  pictures  are  now  eagerly  sought  for.  His  “ Artist’s 
Dream,”  exhibited  with  the  collection  of  the  Philadelphia 
Nehlig.  Sketch  Club,  some  few  years  since,  although  placed  in  a 
very  modest  corner  of  the  room,  was  the  objeCt  of  special 
attention  and  admiration.  His  “Armourer  in  the  Olden  Time,”  exhibited  for 
some  time,  was  secured  by  a well-known  connoisseur  and  dealer  for  exhibition 
in  Europe.  One  of  his  pictures  is  a scene  in  a prison-yard,  where  a wife, 
who  is  a mother  as  well,  for  she  holds  a child  in  her  arms,  is  attempting  to 
speak  with  her  husband  through  the  bars  of  his  cell.  A soldier  is  drag- 
ging her  away.  Intense  agony  is  expressed  in  the  woman’s  face,  which  is 
so  admirably  painted  as  to  be  too  painfully  truthful.  There  are  several 
other  figures,  all  of  them,  and  especially  that  of  the  jailor,  seated  upon  a 
bench  in  the  foreground,  vigorously  drawn,  and  painted  with  a boldness, 
and  at  the  same  time  a clearness  of  finish,  which  equals  the  work  of  the 
best  French  painters.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  second  picture,  which 
shows  us  a party  of  cavaliers  who  have  quarrelled  over  their  cups.  It  is  to 
be  hoped  that  the  ambition  of  this  artist  will  lead  him  into  the  field  of  his- 
toric painting,  to  the  identification  of  himself  with  the  late  eventful  period 
of  our  country’s  history,  a work  for  which  his  genius  is  admirably  fitted. 

J.  O’B.  Inman,  son  of  Henry  Inman,  after  a successful  career  at  the 
West  as  a portrait-painter,  opened  a studio  in  New  York,  where  his  flower- 
pieces  and  small  genre  pictures  found  a ready  sale  ; his 
J.  O’B.  Inman.  facility  is  remarkable.  He  went  abroad  in  1866,  and  a 
letter  in  a London  journal  thus  alludes  to  him  : 

“Mr.  Inman,  who  has  been  but  a few  months  at  Rome,  has  found  that 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


493 


time  long  enough  for  very  many  representations  of  Roman  life,  executed 
with  a rapidity  which  would  seem  impossible  from  a study  of  the  results. 
Most  pleasing  to  the  writer  is  one  christened  ‘ Sunny  Thoughts,’  a sweet 
child  leaning  from  a window,  with  serious  but  happy  thought  in  her  deep 
blue  eyes,  innocence  and  cheerfulness  in  every  line  of  her  face,  all  accord- 
ing well  with  the  bright  light  which  falls  over  the  golden  hair  and  over  the 
vine-leaves  drooping  from  the  casement  above.” 

There  have  been  numerous  artistic  illustrations  of  the  late  war  for 
the  Union.  Those  of  Leutze,  Nast,  Wood,  Homer,  and  others  have 
been  previously  referred  to  ; and  among  the  most  successful  as  re- 
gards accuracy  and  spirit  are  the  paintings  of  Mr.  Walker,  who  made 
careful  studies  on  the  march.  Balling’s  “ Heroes  of  the  Republic,”  a group 
of  twenty-seven  Union  generals  on  horseback,  has  been  much  praised. 

Mr.  Yewell’s  painting  of  the  splendid  old  gothic  church  at  Moret,  France, 
is  called  “ The  First  Communion.”  From  the  door  of  the  old  church  or 
cathedral  comes  a procession  of  young  girls,  all  dressed  in 
white,  as  happy  as  they  are  innocent.  Groups  of  towns-peo-  Yewell. 
pie  are  artistically  arranged  in  front  of  the  church.  The 
architectural  details  of  the  church  and  the  surrounding  houses  are  painted 
with  elaborate  care. 

In  a visit  to  one  of  our  military  hospitals,  during  the  war  for  the  Union, 
a lover  of  art  was  struck  with  the  spirit  and  expression  of  a soldier’s  figure 
traced  in  charcoal  or  chalk  on  the  wall  near  the  bed  of  one 
of  the  patients  ; he  was  a Vermont  boy  who  had  taken  a Julian  Scott, 
stalwart  rebel  prisoner  near  our  lines,  and  conducted  him 
into  camp  amid  the  cheers  of  the  soldiers  ; attention  being  thus  called  to 
the  youth,  he  was  placed  upon  the  staff  of  an  officer,  and,  having  been 
wounded,  amused  himself  with  rough  drawings  of  camp-scenes,  of  which 
the  specimen  on  the  wall,  coming  thus  accidently  under  the  eye  of  a judge 
of  art,  was  found  to  indicate  unusual  talent.  The  gallantry  of  the  youth 
and  his  artistic  tendencies  gained  him  the  warm  friendship  of  a New  York 
merchant,  who  liberally  provided  for  his  education  \ and  Julian  Scott  has 
ever  since  the  end  of  the  war  devoted  himself  assiduously  to  art.  He  is 
already  an  accomplished  draughtsman,  and  has  made  several  authentic  and 
effective  illustrations  of  scenes  in  the  hospital,  the  camp,  and  on  the  battle- 
field, from  recolleCtion  and  studies  sketched  on  the  spot. 

Life-size  genre  pictures,  with  all  the  details  emphatically  expressed,  as 
if  by  magnified  photographic  process,  are  the  peculiar  works  of  Constance 
Mayer.  “ The  Convalescent,”  the  “ Sister  of  Mercy,”  and 
the  “ Orphan’s  Holiday  ” are  well-known  examples.  F.  A.  Mayer. 
Meyer’s  “Lost  Letter”  and  “The  Cavalier”  belong  to 
Geo.  W.  Riggs,  Esq.,  of  Washington,  D.  C. 

Of  Sylvester  Genin,  born  at  St.  Clairsville,  Ohio,  January  22,  1822,  a 
mCmoir  has  been  published,  which  adds  a curious  chapter  to  the  anomalous 
artist-experiences  of  the  West.  His  attempts  were  remark- 
ably ambitious,  for  he  dashed  at  once  into  historical  art  with  Genin. 
little  comparative  training.  Technical  defeCts,  of  course, 


494 


American  Artist  Life. 


were  inevitable  ; but  he  evinced  a remarkable  talent  for  composition,  and 
had  a spirited  style  which,  under  favorable  circumstances,  would  have  led 
to  permanent  triumphs.  The  subjects  and  size  of  his  pictures  are  in  singu- 
lar contrast  with  his  age  and  advantages,  and  his  story  is  exceptional  and 
interesting.  He  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight. 

Among  other  genre  painters  who  have  won  more  or  less  credit  and  man- 
ifested certain  kinds  and  degrees  of  talent  are  Bingham,  Comengys,  Pratt, 
Barrow,  Peele,  Stearns,  Holyoke,  C.  Jarvis,  Street,  Woodside,  Mrs.  Gre- 
torex,  Mrs.  Spencer,  Laurent,  Wright,  Cogswell,  Carter,  Morris,  Ruther- 
ford (who  gave  much  promise  and  died  young),  Edouart,  Perry,  Irving, 
Washington,  and  Colyer. 

A characteristic  faCt  in  the  brief  history  of  American  art  is,  that  among 
its  earliest  products  which  attracted  notice  abroad,  were  illustrations  of 
natural  history.  Audubon  and  Wilson  delineated  the  feathered  tribe  ; and 
the  story  of  their  adventurous  expeditions  and  expedients  is  a romantic 
chapter  in  artist-life  quite  unique  and  fresh  in  its  details  and  spirit.  Not 
less  interesting  are  the  trials  and  triumphs  of  Catlin,  who  portrayed  so 
many  of  the  aboriginal  ttibes  for  the  benefit  of  the  future  ethnologist  and 
the  gratification  of  Europeans.  Indians,  birds,  and  quadrupeds — indigenous 
on  this  continent — with  the  mounds  of  the  West,  and  the  geology  and  flora 
of  the  New  World,  form  a little  appreciated  but  scientifically  valuable  phase 
of  developments  of  art  in  the  United  States.  More  recently,  several  of  our 
painters  have  attained  reputation  as  animal-painters  ; and  while  the  mas- 
terly works  of  Landseer  and  Rosa  Bonheur  have  created  in  the  public  mind 
a standard  of  merit  in  this  branch  rarely  approached,  the  cattle  of  Hinck- 
ley, the  rabbits  and  deer  of  Beard,  the  domestic  fowl  and  game  of  Tait, 
and  the  pointers,  buffaloes,  and  prairie-dogs  of  Hays,  with  specimens  from 
the  pencils  of  Troy,  Oertel,  Ogilvie,  and  others,  have  made  familiar  and 
progressive  a class  of  pictures  long  prized  in  Holland,  France,  and  England, 
as  capable  of  illustrating  some  of  the  most  characteristic  traits  of  animated 
nature,  and  making  apparent  their  subtle  relation  to  humanity.  It  was,  per- 
haps, under  this  guise1  tha t genre  painting  naturally  took  its  rise  among  us. 

Such  representations  also  of  border  life  and  history  as  Bingham  made 
popular,  though  boasting  no  special  grasp  or  refinement  in  execution, 
fostered  a taste  for  primitive  scenes  and  subjects  which 
Bingham.  accounts  for  the  interest  once  excited  in  cities  and  still 
prevalent  at  the  West  in  such  pictures  as  “ The  Jolly 

Flat-Boatman.” 

John  James  Audubon  was  born  on  a plantation  in  Louisiana,  May  4, 
1780,  and  died  in  New  York,  January  27,  1851.  He  visited  Paris  in  his 
youth,  and  studied  painting  with  David.  On  returning  to 
Audubon.  the  United  States  he  engaged  ardently  in  ornithological 
researches,  removing  from  a farm  in  Pennsylvania  to  Hen- 
derson, Kentucky.  During  long,  isolated,  and  adventurous  expeditions,  the 
story  of  which,  from  his  own  pen,  has  all  the  interest  of  romance,  he  col- 
lected several  thousand  specimens  of  bird-portraits,  drawn  by  his  own  hand  ; 
they  were  all  accidentally  destroyed,  and  he  had  the  remarkable  courage 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  495 

and  perseverance  to  renew  his  labor  of  love  ; the  birds  are  represented  with 
their  natural  habits  and  localities,  and  are  of  life  size  ; his  work  was  publish- 
ed by  subscription  ; and  the  original  drawings  are  in  the  possession  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society.*  Audubon’s  sons  were  distinguished  as  animal- 
painters.  One  of  the  earliest  cattle-painters  was  Hinckley,  of  Massachu- 
setts, who  produced  some  excellent  specimens,  but  never  seems  to  have  pro- 
gressed beyond  his  first  successful  attempts.  His  “ Cattle 
seeking  Shelter  from  an  approaching  Storm,”  and  his  “ Dis-  Hinckley, 
puted  Game,”  were  disposed  of  at  great  prices  at  the  Wolfe 
sale  ; his  “ Landscape  with  Deer  and  Cows,”  in  the  collection  of  M.  O.  Rob- 
erts, and  his  “Old  Field-Horse,”  belonging  to  J.  C.  McGuire,  of  Washington, 
D.  C.,  are  good  exemplars  of  his  style.  Irving’s  genre  works,  somewhat  of 
the  class  Messonier  has  made  popular,  are  skilfully  composed  and  finished  ; 
and  the  street  scenes  of  Van  Elten  are  graphic  and  authentic. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  adventurous  phase  of  artist-life,  which  is  pos- 
sible even  to  the  animal-painter  in  America,  note  the  description  or  argu- 
ment of  two  pictures  by  William  Hays,  the  grandson  of 
the  once  famous  high  constable  of  New  York,  where  the  Hays, 
artist  was  born  in  1830.  He  studied  with  John  R.  Smith  ; 
and  his  “ Head  of  a Bull-Dog,”  exhibited  in  1852,  established  his  claim  to 
rare  truth,  accuracy,  and  spirit  in  the  delineation  of  animals  ; his  setters, 
prairie-dogs,  partridges,  and  quails  are  often  distinguished  by  elaborate 
accuracy  and  vital  expression  : — 

“ The  Stampede.”  The  immense  herds  of  bison  which  roam  over  the 
prairies  are  sometimes  seized  with  fright,  from  some  real  or  imaginary 
cause,  and  the  panic  beginning  perhaps  with  but  a few,  is  at  last  commu- 
nicated to  the  whole  herd,  when,  with  headlong  fury,  they  dash  and  drive 
each  other  on,  in  wildest  fear.  The  picture  represents  the  arrival  of  a herd, 
during  one  of  these  panics,  upon  the  brink  of  one  of  the  small  canons, 
or  ravines,  which  everywhere  intersect  the  prairies,  and  are  generally  invis- 
ible until  their  edge  is  nearly  approached.  The  foremost  animals,  de- 
spite their  fear,  discover  their  danger,  and  frantically  struggle  to  retain 
their  foothold,  but  the  immense  pressure  of  the  terror-stricken  creatures 
in  the  rear  renders  it  impossible  : they  are  forced  forward,  and  plunge  into 
the  ravine,  their  bodies  serving  as  a bridge  for  the  rest  of  the  herd,  which 
continues  its  mad  career  until  exhausted.  A stampede  is  the  great  dread 
of  emigrants  crossing  the  plain,  as  it  is  almost  impossible  to  prevent  the 
cattle  and  horses  from  being  carried  off  with  it.  The  soil  of  the  rolling 
prairie  is  chiefly  sand  and  clay,  which,  baked  dry  by  the  intense  heat,  is 
raised  by  the  wind  in  intolerable  clouds  of  dust.  The  vegetation  is  prin- 
cipall)-  buffalo  grass,  amid  which  flourish  the  most  delicate  wild  flowers  ; in 
the  foreground  may  be  noticed  the  c^Ctus  opuntia,  or  prickly  pear,  which, 
in  this  region,  is  found  in  abundance. 

“ The  Herd  on  the  Move.”  By  the  casual  observer  this  picture  would, 
with  hardly  a second  thought,  be  deemed  an  exaggeration  ; but  those  who 


* For  a more  full  account  of  Audubon,  see  the  Author’s  Biographical  Essays. 


496 


American  Artist  Life. 

have  visited  our  prairies  of  the  far  West  can  vouch  for  its  truthfulness,  nor 
can  canvas  adequately  convey  the  width  and  breadth  of  these  innumerable 
hordes  of  bison,  such  as  are  here  represented  as  coming  over  a river-bot- 
tom in  search  of  water  and  food,  their  natural  instinCts  leading  them  on, 
constantly  inciting  them  to  this  wandering  life,  since  vegetation  would  be 
quite  exhausted  were  it  not  for  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  for  renewal. 
As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  wild  herds  are  discernible  ; and  yet,  farther  be- 
hind these  bluffs,  over  which  they  pour,  the  throng  begins,  covering  some- 
times a distance  of  a hundred  miles.  The  bison  colleCt  in  these  immense 
herds  during  the  autumn  and  winter,  migrating  south  in  winter  and  north 
in  summer,  and  so  vast  is  their  number  that  travellers  on  the  plains  are 
sometimes  a week  passing  through  a herd.  They  form  a solid  column,  led 
by  the  strongest  and  most  courageous  bulls  ; and  nothing  in  the  form  of 
natural  obstructions  seems  ever  to  deter  their  onward  march,  they  crossing 
rivers  and  other  obstacles  from  which  a horse  would  shrink.  The  soil  of 
the  river  bottoms — unlike  the  prairie  proper,  which  begins  at  the  bluffs  in 
the  distance — is  very  rich,  and  vegetable  growth  very  luxuriant.  In  the 
foreground  is  represented  the  sweetbrier,  or  wild  rose  ; and  in  the  middle 
distance,  the  light  tints  which  look  like  water  is  the  artemisia,  or  wild 
sage. 

Hays  exhibited  at  the  National  Academy,  in  1850,  his  picture  of  “A 
Dog  in  a Field,”  and  in  two  years  was  chosen  an  associate.  He  has 
visited  Missouri  and  the  far  West,  and  made  accurate  studies  of  buffaloes, 
prairie-dogs,  deer,  squirrels,  and  other  wild  animals  ; and  some  of  his  por- 
traits of  the  domestic  race  are  very  truthful  and  characteristic. 

His  “ Prairie-Dog  Village  ” represents  a familiar  scene  of  prairie  life, 
when  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  the  burrows  of  these  little  creatures, 
with  their  embankments,  give  to  the  surface  of  the  earth  the  appearance 
of  cutaneous  eruptions.  The  dogs  in  the  foreground  of  the  picture  are 
carefully  painted.  Another  picture  represents  a solitary  bull-moose,  ugly, 
stiff,  and  awkward  as  the  original  himself,  with  heavy  antlers,  huge  head, 
projecting  upper  lip,  and  misshapen  body.  The  texture  of  the  hair  is 
good,  and  the  entire  scene  life-like.  The  background  and  accessories  are 
entirely  subordinated  to  the  main  figure,  which  is  one  of  the  best  that  he 
has  delineated. 

The  dogs  and  game  of  this  artist  are  widely  distributed  ; average  speci- 
mens of  his  skill  are  in  the  collection  of  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New 
York  ; — “A  Terrier  Dog,”  “ Hordon  the  Move,”  “ Dog’s  Head,”  “ Noah’s 
Dove,”  “ Strawberries,”  and  Flowers.” 

Alfred  G.  Miller,  ot  Baltimore,  Mel.,  although  for  years  a martyr  to  rheu- 
matism, contracted  years  ago  in  his  artistic  expeditions  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  has  bravely  prosecuted  animal-painting,  and 
Miller.  with  success.  He  studied  in  Italy  in  his  youth,  and  was 
long  devoted  to  portraiture  and  composition  ; but  became 
fascinated  with  the  life  and  scenes  of  the  far  prairies  of  the  West,  and 
especially  fond  of  delineating  the  buffalo  and  his  wild  surroundings. 


Portraiture , Genre,  and  Historical  Painters. 


497 


He  paints  this  animal  in  water  colors,  in  every  possible  attitude,  and  under 
all  imaginable  circumstances,  and  for  these  spirited  and  authentic  pictures 
he  has  liberal  orders  from  England  ; one  nobleman  of  Scotland,  especially, 
has  kept  his  pencil  auspiciously  employed.  His  enthusiasm  for  “ his 
friends,  the  buffaloes,”  as  he  calls  them,  and  his  artistic  skill,  well  illus- 
trate a peculiar  phase  of  Western  scenes  and  animal  life. 

An  English  artist  residing  in  Westchester  county,  J.  F.  Tait,  has  long 
been  a popular  animal-painter,  and  many  of  his  pictures  have  been  widely 
circulated  through  chromo-lithographs.  Dana  has  painted 
some  of  the  best  heads  of  dogs  and  horses  executed  in  Tait. 

this  country  ; and  Brackett  has  succeeded  in  delineating 
our  native  fish  with  truth  and  effedl.  One  of  the  most  promising  of  our 
young  artists  in  this  department  is  Mr.  Bispham,  of  Philadelphia,  who  has 
executed  several  excellent  pidtures,  wherein  the  cattle  in 
pastoral,  and  the  wild  animals  in  wild  landscape,  are  de-  Bispham. 
lineated  with  great  authenticity  and  fine  feeling. 

A native  of  Maine,  Walter  M.  Brackett  began  his  career  as  an  artist  in 
1843,  and  at  first  devoted  himself  to  portraits  and  fancy  heads  ; until  a few 
years  since  when  he  made  the  painting  of  “ Game  Fish  ” a 
specialty.  His  orders  are  in  advance  of  his  work  for  this  Brackett, 
class  of  pictures,  of  which  an  eminent  critic  says  : — 

“It  is  now  about  a year  since  we  called  the  attention  of  our  readers  to 
the  fish-groups  of  Walter  M.  Brackett.  They  appeared  to  us  to  be  remark- 
able for  fidelity  and  pidluresqueness.  There  are  game  pictures  which  we 
do  not  wish  to  see.  There  is  nothing  pleasant  in  them,  either  in  their  sur- 
roundings or  in  their  intrinsic  worth.  But  from  the  first  time  that  we  saw 
Mr.  Brackett’s  paintings  we  were  convinced  that  he  would  give  us  pleasant 
groups,  and  would  take  a high  rank  as  a painter  of  piscatorial  treasures. 
At  the  late  artists’  reception  there  was  universal  praise  awarded  to  his 
salmon  of  the  ordinary  kind,  to  his  group  of  fish,  including  a silvery  Lake 
Ontario  “White  Fish,”  and  to  that  most  delicious  of  all  fish,  which  Pro- 
fessor Agassiz  denominates  the  “ Land-locked  Salmon.”  This  last  is  a 
denizen  of  the  limpid  waters  of  the  lakes  which  empty  into  the  St.  Croix 
above  Calais,  in  Maine.  In  that  region  where  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Bethune 
(the  greatest  American  authority  in  piscatorial  matters)  used  to  go  in  May 
and  June,  this  beautiful  fish,  larger  than  the  trout  and  smaller  than  the  sal- 
mon, and  more  delicate  than  either,  is  found.  Thither  Mr.  Brackett  went, 
and  (for  he  is  a good  fisherman)  snatched  from  its  watery  home  the  land- 
locked salmon,  which  he  has  so  felicitously  rendered  on  canvas.  Like 
every  true  artist,  he  paints  from  nature,  and  hence  his  fidelity  and  suc- 
cess. A friend  who  is  an  excellent  connoisseur,  and  who,  in  Europe,  has 
looked  upon  the  finest  fish-pieces  by  English,  French,  and  Dutch  artists, 
unhesitatingly  pronounces  Mr.  Brackett  in  the  first  rank  of  the  great  mas- 
ters in  that  line.  We  do  not  recall  a single  living  English  or  American 
artist  of  piscatorial  pictures  that  can  come  up  with  him.  Mr.  Brackett  has 
his  reward,  for  his  orders  are  constant.  In  New  York  many  gentlemen 


49  3 


American  Artist  Life. 


have  become  possessors  of  his  paintings.  The  accessories  of  his  fish  are 
always  in  good  taste,  picturesque,  and  well  painted.” 

This  artist  has,  in  several  instances,  memorably  succeeded  in  fantasy- 
painting, and  especially  in  representing  rabbits  and  deer  ; of  the  latter  a 
group  exhibited  at  the  Academy  in  New  York  attracted 
W.  H.  Beard.  much  attention  : a fine  buck  is  listening  with  that  vigilant 
timidity  peculiar  to  these  wild  and  beautiful  creatures  ; 
his  antlers  are  thrown  back,  his  ears  forward ; his  eyes  protrude,  his 
tail  is  stiffened  ; it  seems  as  if  he  heard  from  afar  the  echo  of  a hunter’s 
horn  or  the  stealthy  tread  of  an  enemy  ; a doe  and  fawn  seem  patiently  and 
tenderly  to  await  the  result  of  this  intent  listening.  There  are  others  of 
the  family,  but  they  stand  at  ease  or  browse  unconcernedly.  Another 
picture  by  this  artist,  caused  a smile  of  amusement  on  every  face  : two  rab- 
bits are  making  love,  and  a third  stands  on  his  hind  legs  and  peers  over  a 
cabbage-leaf,  with  an  expression  of  jealous  surprise  in  his  fixed  and  fierce 
eyes  that  is  inimitable.  A sketchy  little  picture  of  “ Santa  Claus  ” whirling 
in  his  sledge  through  a snow-storm,  and  dropping  Christmas  toys  down 
chimneys,  and  the  “ March  of  Silenus,”  with  his  intoxicated  goats,  still 
further  illustrate  the  peculiar  kind  of  genre  painting  in  which  Beard  excels  ; 
his  perception  of  animal  character  and  expression  is  sympathetic  and  acute  ; 
and  the  result  of  this  faculty  united  to  his  original  comic  vein  is  a unique 
combination  of  the  naturalist  and  the  humorist  in  art. 

William  H.  Beard  was  born  in  what  was  then  the  backwoods  settlement 
of  Painesville,  Ohio,  now  the  most  beautiful  village  of  the  West,  where  he 
remained  until  about  his  eighteenth  year,  with  a history  similar  to  most 
country-bred  boys,  and  not  unusual  in  its  experience,  unless  it  might  be  a 
great  fondness  for  the  rifle,  and  all  woodland  sports  and  pastimes.  His 
mother,  who  was  left  a widow  when  William  was  yet  an  infant,  made  every 
effort  to  give  her  youngest  son  a liberal  education,  with  but  partial  success 
however  ; for  the  boy  had  other  tastes,  and  little  fondness  for  books,  save 
the  great  book  of  nature,  which  it  was  his  constant  joy  to  study,  and  there 
was  probably  no  one  in  his  native  town  or  its  vicinity  who  possessed  so 
much  knowledge  of  natural  history  and  nature  generally,  as  he,  even  at  a 
very  early  age.  He  was  well  known  in  the  town  and  the  country  round 
about  for  these  acquirements,  as  well  as  for  being  a good  shot,  a good 
swimmer,  and  “hard  to  handle,”  which  means  a good  wrestler — with  its 
kindred  accomplishments.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  was  sent  to  school, 
and  kept  steadily  at  his  studies  for  the  next  three  years;  when  he  returned 
to  his  native  town  and  made  his  first  attempt  to  earn  his  bread  by  painting 
portraits,  but  with  very  little  success  ; “ a prophet  is  not  without  honor,” 
etc.  He  therefore  resolved  to  try  his  fortune  in  strange  lands,  and,  about  his 
twenty- first  year,  started  on  a tour  through  the  western  towns  of  his  native 
State  as  a peripatetic  portrait-painter.  As  he  himself  expressed  it,  his 
mission  was  to  “take  the  conceit  out  of  people.”  This  was  said  in  conse- 
quence of  an  unhappy  propensity  he  had  of  seizing  upon  those  characteristics 
and  peculiarities  in  his  sitters,  which  the  fond  original  vainly  hoped  would 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  499 

be  treated  with  considerate  moderation  ; — enlarging  upon  them,  and  pro- 
ducing altogether  a result  more  satisfactory  and  amusing  to  others  than 
flattering  to  the  vanity  of  the  poor  victims.  But  as  few  persons  cared  to 
have  such  service  performed  for  them,  he  was  rewarded  with  but  indifferent 
success.  He  at  length  determined  to  make  a bold  push,  and  try  the  “ much- 
feared  ” city.  Accordingly  he  went  to  Buffalo,  and  opened  a studio  about  the 
year  1850.  Not  depending  so  much  upon  portrait-painting,  however,  and 
finally  abandoning  it  altogether,  he  struggled  on  with  varied  success  for 
some  six  or  eight  years,  gradually  making  a local  reputation,  and  forming 
valuable  friendships  and  acquaintances,  among  whom  was  Mr.  Thomas 
LeClear.  Procuring  orders  sufficient  to  keep  him  busy  during  his  stay,  he 
was  enabled  to  go  to  Europe,  where  he  spent  his  time  chiefly  in  Dusseldorf, 
Switzerland,  and  Rome.  Here  he  first  met  with  many  of  his  now  distin- 
guished countrymen — Leutze,  Gifford,  Whittredge,  Bierstadt,  and  others. 
Returning  to  Buffalo,  after  an  absence  of  a little  less  than  two  years,  he 
married  Miss  Johnson,  a granddaughter  of  judge  Wilkeson,  a prominent 
citizen  of  Buffalo.  But  this  great  happiness  of  his  life  was  soon  followed 
by  its  greatest  sorrow  ; after  a few  days’  illness  his  beautiful  wife  died  within 
a few  months  after  their  marriage.  Then  the  household  was  broken  up, 
and  Mr.  Beard  removed  to  New  York  in  i860,  with  blighted  hopes  and  a 
saddened  life,  to  begin  the  world  again,  as  it  were.  He  brought  with  him 
a few  humorous  pictures, — “ The  Astronomer,”  “The  Owl,”  “Bears  on  a 
Bender,”  and  “ Grimalkin’s  Dream.”  These  were  more  popular  than  the 
artist  had  anticipated,  and  even  more  so  than  he  afterward  desired,  for 
most  of  his  orders  since  have  been  for  pictures  of  like  character.  Mr. 
Beard  again  married  in  1863  the  daughter  of  his  old  friend  LeClear. 

This  regret  is  natural  on  the  part  of  an  artist  who  feels  capable  of  other 
kinds  of  work  than  the  special  one  which  public  favor  recognizes.  Still, 
the  verdiCt  is  a good  evidence  of  his  originality.  A judicious  critic  thus 
estimates  Beard’s  more  recent  pictures,  their  significance  and  intrinsic 
merit : — 

“ A caricature  where  man’s  weaknesses  are  reflected  and  made  startlingly 
apparent  in  a mirror  which  distorts  and  magnifies  them,  often  overleaps 
itself,  and  thereby  destroys  the  effeCt  which  it  seeks  to  produce.  It  is  usu- 
ally too  exaggerated  to  be  truthful,  and  too  broad  to  be  keen.  It  is  comi- 
cal without  being  humorous,  coarse  without  being  witty,  and  so  stupid  that 
from  it  no  moral  even  can  be  adducible.  CEsop’s  Fables  are  fine  specimens 
of  satire,  and  that  which  he  so  successfully  accomplished  with  his  pen,  has, 
in  a different  but  equally  admirable  manner,  been  effected  by  the  pencil  of 
an  American  painter.  William  H.  Beard  has  produced  in  his  pictures  some 
of  the  most  caustic  satires  on  humanity  which  the  age  has  known.  He  has 
shown  up  pride,  arrogance,  drunkenness,  greed,  jealousy,  and  various  other 
faults  of  humanity,  in  a manner  which  cannot  fail  to  teach  a lesson  that — 
if  it  bear  any  fruit  at  all — must  be  productive  of  good.  He  has  not  altogether 
confined  himself  to  works  of  a satirical  character ; but  has  selected  his 
themes  from  many  varied  sources.  Few  of  his  pictures,  however,  lack  that 


500 


American  Artist  Life. 


element  of  humor  in  the  delineation  of  which  he  is  a master,  and  which  is 
so  laughter-provoking  in  its  effects  upon  the  beholder.  Even  when  the 
subject  is  of  a serious  cast,  and  the  feeling  it  naturally  awakens  is  of  a 
thoughtful  character,  he  still  manages  to  introduce  into  it  a touch  of  grave, 
quaint  humor,  which,  far  from  violating  good  taste  or  jarring  the  sensibili- 
ties by  its  seeming  incongruousness,  harmonizes,  grotesquely  it  may  be, 
and  gives,  by  contrast,  additional  strength  to  the  motive  of  the  pidture.  The 
art  of  introducing  a comic  vein,  where  we  should  least  expedt  to  find  it, 
either  in  a pidture  or  a poem,  and  that,  too,  without  producing  a discordant 
effedt,  is  one  which  few  possess,  and  can  only  be  successful  when  no  na- 
tural law  is  violated,  and  its  appropriateness  is  patent  to  all.  Fitz-Greene 
Halleck  possesses  this  power  in  a remarkable  degree,  and  has  successfully 
introduced  it  into  several  of  his  poems. 

“ Perhaps  the  most  popular  of  Beard’s  pictures,  the  one  which  appeals 
strongest  to  the  risible  faculties  of  the  beholder,  is  his  ‘ Bears  on  a Bender.’ 
It  represents  a party  of  bears,  six  or  eight  in  number,  who,  having  broken 
into  a garden,  have  returned  therefrom  to  the  neighboring  woods,  laden 
with  spoils  in  the  form  of  grapes,  watermelons,  and  various  vegetables, 
with  which  they  are  regaling  themselves  with  a gusto  and  bonbruinie — if 
we  may  coin  a word — only  equalled  by  a party  of  fat  aldermen  over  cham- 
pagne and  a tureen  of  turtle.  One  can  easily  imagine,  as  he  looks  upon 
them,  that  he  hears  the  smacking  of  their  chops,  and  their  low  growls  of 
satisfadtion,  as  they  crunch  through  the  crisp,  green  rinds  of  the  melons, 
and  make  their  teeth  meet  in  the  red,  sweet,  and  juicy  core  ; that  he  can 
see  the  blood  of  the  grape  trickling  from  their  open  mouths,  and  catch  their 
smiles  of  contentment  at  their  good-luck.  The  drunken  gravity  upon  the 
faces  of  some,  and  the  semi-idiotic  leer  of  others  of  the  group,  are  wonder- 
fully expressed.  Regarding  the  pidture  simply  as  portraits  of  bears,  with- 
out considering  it  in  its  relation  to  humanity,  or  as  possessing  a moral 
significance  beyond  what  appears  on  its  face,  it  is  yet  worthy  of  careful 
study  ; the  bears  are  not  stuffed  specimens,  but  are  instindt  with  life,  and 
as  bearish  and  natural  in  their  ways  as  any  ever  encountered  by  old  Grizzly 
Adams.  They  are  anatomically  corredt  in  drawing  ; their  fur  is  the  regular 
thing,  with  nothing  woolly  or  bristly  about  it,  but  of  the  kind  which  bears 
are  accustomed  to  wear.  They  don’t  set  themselves  up  for  travelled  bears 
who  have  been  viewing  civilization  through  the  medium  of  a menagerie  ; 
but  they  are  untamed,  forest-free  chaps,  who  lead  wild  and  jolly  lives  in 
summer,  and  sleep  undisturbed  through  the  winter  ; in  short,  they  are 
bears  which  are  bears.” 

Somewhat  in  the  vein  of  Ivaulbach,  but  with  thoroughly  American 
humorous  traits,  Beard  has  painted  what  an  experienced  art-student  justly 
calls  “jokes  vital  with  merry  thought  and  healthful  absurdity.”  His 
“ Court  of  Justice,”  wherein  all  parties  are  represented  by  monkeys,  is  a 
most  suggestive  satire  ; and  his  “ Bear  Dance  ” has  all  the  phases  of  a 
ball-room,  with  “four-legged  humanity”  to  emphasize  its  naturalness.  Of 
“ The  Watchers  ” it  has  been  said  : “ It  is  a pidture  representing  a dying 


Portraiture,  Genre , and  Historical  Painters.  501 

elk,  surrounded  by  six  or  eight  ravens  waiting  patiently  for  its  eyes  to  close 
in  death  before  they  pounce  upon  him.  The  biting  satire,  the  grim  humor, 
and  the  quasi-melancholy  conveyed  by  the  picture  are  unmistakable.  The 
poor  stricken  elk  lies  stretched  upon  the  sward  of  the  prairie,  its  limbs 
relaxed,  its  strength  ebbing  with  the  flowing  of  its  life-blood,  its  soft,  dark 
eyes  rapidly  glazing,  a piteous  expression  on  its  face,  as  if  aware  of  the 
fate  awaiting  it ; while  the  ill-omened  birds,  like  black  shadows  of  death, 
are  clustered  arounfl  it  on  the  ground.  One  or  two  of  the  ravens  are  evi- 
dently old  beaks  at  this  sort  of  business,  and  instead  of  watching  with  the 
wistful,  expectant  manners  of  the  rest,  are  resigned  and  patient,  dozing 
away  the  minutes  with  their  heads  sunk  low  amidst  their  feathers,  confident 
that  the  elk  will  die  in  good  season  for  their  evening  repast.  Perhaps  there 
is  an  adage  in  crow-life  similar  to  that  which  cooks  like  to  repeat,  viz.,  4 A 
watched  pot  never  boils.’  So  the  ravens  may  say,  4 A watched  elk  never 
dies  ; ’ and  the  elder  of  the  crows,  being  posted  in  this  matter,  either  are  or 
else  feign  to  be  unwistful.  The  entire  arrangement  and  grouping  of  the 
figures  in  this  picture  cannot  fail  to  attraCf  attention  by  the  skilfulness  with 
which  they  are  managed  and  the  correctness  of  the  drawing.” 

Among  Beard’s  pictures  is  a patriotic  allegory,  44  The  Guardians  of 
the  Flag,”  representing  a rocky  eyrie,  on  which  an  eagle  is  defending 
and  grasping  in  his  talons  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  other  44  birds  of  Jove,” 
standing  on  guard  near  by;  and  44  In  and  Out,”  a clever  little  piece 
devoted  to  the  chase  of  rats  by  an  excited  puss.  Other  of  his  pictures 
are  44  Grimalkin’s  Dream,”  44  The  Intruding  Guinea-Pig,”  44  Deer  on  the 
Prairie,”  44  Christmas  Eve,”  44  Little  Red  Riding  Flood,”  44  Raining  Cats 
and  Dogs,”  44  In  the  Woods,”  44  Exchanging  Epithets,”  44  A Bird  in  the 
Hand,”  etc.,  etc. 

44  Santa  Claus  ” and  44  Grimalkin’s  Dream  ” belong  to  J.  Taylor  Johnson, 
of  New  York;  44  Bears  on  a Bender,”  44  The  Conspirators,”  and  44  Dance 
of  Silenus,”  to  S.  B.  Caldwell,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.;  and  the  44  Naughty 
Cub  ” to  Geo.  W.  Riggs,  of  Washington,  D.  C. 

The  son  of  an  English  clergyman,  who  brought  him  to  America  in 
early  childhood,  Edward  H.  May,  having  a natural  talent  and  facility  as 
a draughtsman,  embraced  the  profession  of  an  engineer, 
when  the  frequent  construction  of  railroads  occasioned  May. 
constant  demands  for  the  exercise  of  that  science  among 
us  ; but  he  soon  yielded  to  a much  stronger  instinCt  for  art  ; and  begin- 
ning with  portraits,  soon  rose  to  ideal  and  historical  experiments.  Per- 
haps he  was  first  known  to  the  New  York  public  by  a panorama  illustra- 
tive of 44  The  Pilgrim’s  Progress,”  which,  in  conjunction  with  brother- artists, 
he  executed  for  exhibition  ; it  proved  very  successful.  It  is  an  exceptional 
characteristic  that  May’s  mind  tended  strongly  both  to  the  exaCt  sciences 
and  the  poetical  in  art  and  life  ; he  was  so  good  a mathematician  that  he 
took  a high  rank  as  a civil  engineer,  and  he  became  as  enthusiastic  and 
visionary  in  his  art-studies  as  the  most  imaginative  aspirant.  A painter 
who  was  long  his  neighbor  in  the  Art-Union  Building,  New  York,  remem- 


502 


American  Artist  Life. 


bers  vividly  the  alternation  of  moods'  the  eagerness  of  conception,  and 
the  earnestness  of  execution  wherewith,  in  his  novitiate,  he  used  to  work. 
On  one  occasion  he  had  finished,  after  months  of  ardent  toil,  a religious 
picture,  which  his  friend  advised  him  to  dispose  of  to  the  Art-Union,  as  the 
readiest  way  of  selling  it  to  advantage — money  being  then  a great  desidera- 
tum. “ No,”  said  May,  “ I have  put  my  soul  into  that  picture,  and  I will 
only  part  with  it  to  some  one  capable  of  appreciating  the  sentiment  it  em- 
bodies.” As,  however,  no  purchaser  offered,  the  artist  was  reluctantly 
obliged  to  allow  his  picture  to  be  raffled  for  ; the  day  after  the  drawing, 
May  entered  his  friend’s  studio,  who  declares  he  can  never  forget  his  look 
of  despair,  or  the  indignant  sorrow  with  which  he  exclaimed  : “ Drawn  by 
Hose  Company  No.  9 ! ” Enthusiastic,  fluent,  and  sensitive,  but  varying 
in  his  artistic  aims,  and  restless  under  delay  or  obstacles,  he  required  the 
social  and  professional  encouragements  only  to  be  found  abroad  ; and 
soon  visited  Europe,  making  Paris  his  head-quarters,  but  frequently  visit- 
ing England  to  execute  portraits  ; in  Liverpool,  especially,  he  is  known  as 
a portrait-painter.  He  has  several  times  passed  months  in  Italy,  greatly 
to  the  advantage  of  liis  artistic  scope  and  discipline  ; he  has  made  some 
of  the  best  copies  of  the  old  masters  in  the  Louvre — so  estimated  by 
the  French  critics.  He  is  intimate  with  all  the  Paris  ateliers , and  his  viva- 
cious and  well-cultivated  mind  and  aCtive  temperament  make  him  a social 
favorite  ; at  the  same  time  he  has  all  the  caprice  and  fantasy  of  the  artistic 
organization.  The  subjects  of  May’s  pictures  are  remarkably  various — 
ranging  from  the  dramatic  to  the  domestic,  and  from  severely  historical  to 
genial  genre  subjects.  Among  them  are  ‘‘The  Fisherman’s  Daughter 
listening  to  a Sea-Shell,”  “Girl  combing  her  Hair,”  “Esmeralda,”  from 
Victor  Hugo’s  famous  romance  ; “ Cardinal  Mazarin  taking  Leave  of  his 
Pictures  in  the  Louvre,”  of  which  Couture  thought  highly ; “ The  Dying  Brig- 
and,” which  took  a gold  medal  at  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1855,  and  was 
also  exhibited  at  the  National  Academy  of  New  York  ; “ King  Lear  and 
Cordelia,”  “The  Origin  of  the  Printing-Press,”  and  “Franklin  playing 
Chess  with  Lady  Howe,”  painted  for  an  American,  Mr.  Farnham.  At  the 
sale  of  the  Wright  collection  in  New  York,  six  of  May’s  pictures  were  ex- 
hibited— “A  Greek  Slave,”  “Copy  of  Titian,”  “The  Falconer,”  after 
Couture  ; “ The  Listeners,”  after  Luminaise  ; “ Madonna,”  after  Murillo  ; 
and  a “ Copy  of  Titian’s  Entombment.”  This  latter  brought  fourteen 
hundred,  and  the  “ Madonna”  a thousand  dollars. 

In  the  Annates  Historiques  (Paris,  1864,  vol.  38),  we  are  told  that 
Edward  Harrison  May  studied  under  Huntington,  in  New  York,  and  en- 
tered Couture’s  studio  in  Paris,  in  1851  ; highly  commended  by  the  author 
of  this  memoir  are  the  careful  studies  of  this  artist  and  their  results  ; it  was 
written  when  the  artist  had  attained  his  fortieth  year,  and  enumerates,  as 
his  most  striking  and  characteristic  works  up  to  that  period,  “ The  Death 
of  a Brigand,”  “Portrait  of  a Young  Girl,”  “An  Italian  Study,”  “A 
Young  Italian  Woman  writing  her  Lover’s  Confession  on  a Tomb,” 
“ Francis  First  at  Prayer  after  hearing  of  the  Death  of  his  Son,”  “ An  II- 


Portraiture , Genre , and  Historical  Painters. 


503 


lustration  from  Byron,”  “Columbus  making  his  Will,”  “A  Scene  from 
Waverley,”  “Jewish  Captives  at  Babylon,”  “ A Young  Woman  at  her  Toi- 
let.” It  will  be  seen  how  wide  is  the  scope  of  this  artist’s  sympathies  by 
the  subjects  he  has  treated.  The  writer  of  the  biography  alluded  to,  thus 
speaks  of  his  style  and  abilities  : “ Ce  qui  caraderise,  selonnous , cet  artiste, 
c’est  la  fermete  correde  de  son  dessin,  la  force  harmonieuse  de  sa  couler 
et  une  verite  saissanted  M.  Aldini  writes — “ M.  May  dessine  et  feint  avec 
bonheur , avec  succes ; il  copie  avec  le  culte  et  Vdoldtrie  pour  les  grands 
maitres : ses  etudes  sont  d’  une  verite  frapp  ante  / ses  portraits  sont  vi- 
vantsd 

M.  Andre  Leo,  in  the  new  “ Paris  Guide,”  cites  in  proof  of  artistic  feeling 
among  Americans,  the  pictures  of  May  and  Langdon,  and  the  California 
landscapes  of  Hill.  Theophile  Gautier  has  also  accorded  high  praise  to 
May : — 

“ In  his  ‘Francis  the  First  lamenting  the  Death  of  his  Son,’  the  artist 
has  grouped  his  figures  with  taste  and  skill.  Prominent  upon  the  canvas  we 
have  the  king  on  his  knees.  He  has  stepped  aside  from  those  surround- 
ing him,  and,  with  every  sign  of  grief  and  agitation  upon  his  expressive 
countenance,  is  raising  to  heaven  a prayer  for  consolation  and  protection. 
The  king  is  in  advance  of  the  group  of  courtiers.  The  prelate,  who  has 
just  communicated  the  fatal  intelligence,  stands  between  the  kneeling 
monarch  and  those  from  whom  he  has  just  rushed,  while  in  their  attitudes 
the  artist  has  expressed  most  admirably  the  sensations  experienced  by 
them.  The  whole  painting  is  well  executed,  the  composition  very  good, 
while  the  coloring  is  warmer  and  more  pleasing  than  is  generally  seen  at 
this  exhibition.” 

In  “The  Italian  Peasant  Girl  inscribing  her  Love  upon  a Tomb,”  the 
figures  are  the  size  of  life.  The  man  is  seated  upon  the  ground,  and 
has  his  arm  around  the  form  of  the  girl,  of  whom  we  only  see  the  profile, 
as  she  is  seated  with  her  back  toward  us.  She  is  writing  upon  the  cold 
gray  of  the  tomb  rock  her  confession  of  love.  With  her  arm  upon  her 
lover's  shoulder,  she  coyly  turns  away  her  head,  as  she  thus  reveals  to  the 
delighted  peasant  what  he  so  ardently  desires  to  know.  The  figures  are 
gracefully  composed,  while  the  coloring  is  rich  and  pleasing. 

In  his  picture  of  “ Lady  Jane  Grey  taking  Leave  of  the  Governor  of  the 
Tower,”  Jane  Grey  is  just  presenting  her  tablets  to  the  Governor  of  the 
Tower  previous  to  her  execution.  The  stern  old  Governor  bows  lowly  and 
reverentially  to  receive  them  from  her  hand.  Her  girlish  face  is  pale,  her 
eyes  are  circled  with  red  from  the  anguish  she  has  suffered,  while  at  the 
same  time  a serene  dignity  shines  in  her  features ; a noble,  glorious 
womanliness,  mingled  with  sweet,  almost  childlike  simplicity.  This  is  the 
impression  this  calm,  pure  face  makes  upon  one  only  who  reads  in  it  that 
the.  tempests  Gf  sorrow  which  have  assailed  this  victim  to  royal  female 
ambition  have  only  served  to  ennoble  her  nature.  j 

His  “ Michael  Angelo  leaving  the  Vatican  in  Anger,”  is  owned  by  Dr. 
Thomas  Evans,  the  celebrated  American  dentist.  A portrait  of  the  Rev. 


504 


American  Artist  Life. 


Dr.  McClintock  is  a very  noble  picture.  Among  other  of  his  portraits 
which  have  been  recognized  as  true  to  nature  and  effective  in  execution 
maybe  named  those  of  Jerome  Bonaparte,  in  the  costume  of  a carabinier  ; 
of  Mr.  Dayton,  late  U.  S.  Minister  at  Paris  ; and  of  Laboulaye  and  De 
Gasparin,  painted  for  the  Union  League  Club,  of  New  York. 

M.  Wight  was  born  in  Boston  in  1827,  and  began  to  draw  and  paint  at 
the  age  of  eighteen.  Occupied  with  portraits  until  1851,  he  then  went 
abroad,  and  visited  all  the  principal  galleries  of  Europe. 

Wight.  Three  years  of  study  and  practice  in  the  Old  World  had 
matured  his  skill,  as  was  evident  by  the  fine  portrait  of 
Humboldt  which  he  brought  home.  He  then  painted,  in  Boston,  a series  of 
remarkably  good  likenesses,  some  of  them  elaborately  finished  ; among 
the  subjedts  were  Edward  Everett,  Josiah  Quincy,  Senator  Sumner,  Pro- 
fessor Agassiz,  James  Savage,  and  numerous  other  citizens.  In  i860  the 
artist  again  visited  Europe,  chiefly  to  study  the  French  school ; on  his 
return  to  his  native  city  he  executed  two  much-admired  ideal  wprks— the 
“ Sleeping  Beauty”  and  “ Eve  at  the  Fountain.”  A third  sojourn  in 
Europe,  commencing  in  1865,  was  passed  chiefly  in  Paris,  in  professional 
work  and  study;  and  in  1867  Mr.  Wight  returned  to  his  Boston  studio. 
The  circumstances  attending  his  Humboldt  portrait  are  of  interest — that 
work  having  established  his  reputation  ; and  we  copy  from  a journal  of  the 
day  the  fadts  as  they  occurred 

“ Desirous  while  in  Europe  to  produce  the  portrait  of  some  person  of 
note  and  well  known  in  America,  it  was  suggested  to  Mr.  Wight  to  seledt . 
that  of  Baron  von  Humboldt.  Accordingly,  with  this  purpose  in  view, 
and  a letter  of  introdudtion  from  one  of  the  most  eminent  orators  in  the 
United  States,  he  called,  while  in  Berlin,  upon  the  Hon.  D.  D.  Barnard, 
the  able  and  accomplished  minister  from  the  United  States,  then  at  the 
court  of  Prussia.  Seeing  before  him  a mere  beardless  boy,  Mr.  Barnard, 
notwithstanding  the  testimonials  of  his  genius  and  charadter,  could  hardly 
help  the  expression  of  a wish  for  some  specimen  of  the  talent  of  so  young 
an  artist,  before  assuming  the  responsibility  of  asking  the  baron  to  sit  for 
his  pidture.  But  Mr.  Wight  had  no  specimen  with  him.  All  he  could  do 
was  immediately  to  propose  to  paint  the  American  minister  himself.  Mr. 
Barnard  as  immediately  accepted  the  invitation.  In  a few  days  Mr.  Wight 
completed  his  task.  At  the  next  of  those  elegant  receptions  which  were 
regularly  given  by  the  American  minister,  the  portrait  was  hung  upon  the 
wall.  Quite  a number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  in  attendance.  They 
were  filled  with  surprise  and  admiration.  With  one  accord  they  pronounced 
it  a perfedt  success,  and  without  delay  Mr.  Barnard,  true  to  his  word  and 
countryman,  communicated  the  request  to  the  baron.  The  proposition  of 
the  young  American  artist  brought  a thousand  reminiscences  to  the  mind 
of  Humboldt,  who,  however,  soon  terminated  all  suspense  or  fear  of  denial 
by  giving,  in  his  own  frank  and  genial  manner,  the  much-desired  affirma- 
tive reply.  The  matter  soon  became  known,  and  excited  a lively  curiosity, 
particularly  among  some  of  the  American  residents  and  students,  an 


Portraiture , Genre,  and  Historical  Painters. 


505 


unusually  large  number  of  whom  were  at  that  season  in  Berlin.  Mr. 
Wight  occupied  a small  room  in  Franzosisch  Strasse,  and  its  entire  contents 
embraced  little  more  than  a few  chairs,  a borrowed  easel,  a set  of  colors 
and  brushes,  and  a piece  of  canvas  stretched  upon  a frame.  There  were 
to  be  five  sittings — Mr.  Wight  requiring  no  more.  Of  Von  Humboldt, 
promptness  is  a well-known  characteristic  ; and  punctual  to  a minute,  the 
baron  came  on  each  appointed  day  to  the  temporary  and  unpretending 
studio  of  the  American  artist.  He  was  always  driven  there  in  the  same 
vehicle,  and  always  accompanied  by  the  same  confidential  valet,  who 
attended  him  up  stairs,  and  then  either  left  or  paced  back  and  forth  along 
the  corridor,  or  in  the  courtyard,  until  the  allotted  hour  and  a half  for  sit- 
ting within  expired,  when  the  valet  instantly  appeared  and  knocked  at  the 
door  in  obedience  to  the  previous  command  of  his  master,  who  as  instantly 
arose,  and,  politely  taking  his  leave,  departed.  Few  painters,  perhaps,  are 
more  alive  to  the  importance,  not  to  say  the  necessity,  of  having  all  things 
in  readiness  against  the  arrival  of  a patron  than  Mr.  Wight,  and  he  invari- 
ably held  pallet  and  pencil  in  hand,  and  as  invariably  began  his  delinea- 
tions the  moment  the  baron  was  seated  ; and,  inspired  as  it  were  by  the 
presence  of  so  noble  and  illustrious  a subject,  he  wrought  with  such  zeal, 
facility,  power,  and  effect,  as  to  complete  every  part  of  the  work  upon  the 
day  agreed  upon,  and  thus  gave  to  the  world  his  famous  portrait  of  Baron 
von  Humboldt,  the  profoundest  and  most  renowned  philosopher,  if  not  the 
most  wonderful  man  of  his  age.  Many  persons,  citizens  and  strangers 
as  well  as  artists,  now  paid  their  respeCts  to  Mr.  Wight.  Among  the  latter 
may  be  mentioned  Cornelius,  whose  magnificent  cartoons  and  frescoes, 
in  church,  palace,  and  cathedral,  have  emblazoned  his  name  through- 
out all  Germany ; and  Rauch,  that  immortal  sculptor,  whose  colossal 
statue  of  Frederick  the  Great,  which  was  being  constructed  for  so  many 
years,  and  at  such  an  immense  expense,  which  was  inaugurated  with  so 
much  pomp  and  ceremony  in  the  presence  of  the  emperor  and  his  court, 
the  flower  of  the  princes  of  the  blood,  of  the  nobles,  and  of  the  army, 
and  all  the  ecclesiastical  and  civil  functionaries  and  dignitaries  of  the  em- 
pire, and  a countless  multitude  of  other  citizens,  and  which  statue  has 
scarcely,  either  in  its  design  and  execution,  any  parallel  in  modern  times. 
These  and  other  artists  and  friends  of  Humboldt  came  to  see  the  new 
portrait,  and,  having  beheld  it,  to  take  Mr.  Wight  by  the  hand  and  express 
to  him  their  surprise  and  gratification.  Nothing  would  do  but  the  portrait 
must  be  deposited  in  the  Grand  Hall  of  the  Art-Union  of  Berlin.  Here 
it  was  placed  upon  an  easel  by  itself,  in  a most  conspicuous  position  for 
general  view  and  examination,  and  here  it  was  gazed  at  from  day  to  day, 
and  its  merits  and  effects  discussed  in  almost  every  tongue  and  strain  of 
commendation.” 


LANDSCAPE-PAINTERS. 


Doughty . — Gignoux. — Kensett. — Whittredge. — Russell  Smith. — Casilaer. 
— Hubbard.  — IV.  T.  Richards. — T.  A.  Richards. — Gifford. — Dines s. 
— Cropsey . — Suydam  — Wenzler. — Heade. — M cEntee. — W.  Hart.  — 
Birch. — Salmon. — R.  B onfield. — Marine  Painters : De  Haas. — Dix. 
Warren.  — Bradford. — Haseltine. — Williamson.  — Bristol. — Tilton. 
— Colman.  — Shattuck. — Griswold. — Gay.  — Mignot.  — Hamilton. — 
Brevoort. — Sontag. — Bellows , and  others. — Ropes. — Thorndike. — 
Buggies. — -Moran  — Hotchkiss. 

REVIOUS  to  and  simultaneously  with  the  new  interest  ex- 
cited in  American  landscape  art,  by  the  true  and  genial 
works  of  Cole,  Thomas  Doughty  promoted  its  success,  and 
was  long  regarded  as  its  representative.  He  was  born  in 
Philadelphia,  on  the  19th  of  July,  1793.  His  original  oc- 
cupation was  as  far  removed  as  it  is  possible  to  imagine 
from  those  associations  which  usually  lead  to  the  cultivation  of  art.  He 
was  a leather  manufacturer ; having  served  an  apprenticeship  to  that 
business,  and  afterwards  engaged  in  it  on  his  own  account. 
Doughty.  As  in  the  case  of  the  late  Thomas  Dowse,  of  Cambridge- 
port,  Mass.,  who  followed  the  same  trade,  a love  and 
taste  for  art  gradually  took  possession  of  Doughty  while  engaged  in  this 
occupation,  or  rather  during  his  intervals  of  leisure  and  recreation.  He 
was  nearly  thirty  years  of  age  when,  to  the  surprise  and  disappointment 
of  his  friends,  he  resolved  to  make  painting  his  vocation.  Adopted  at 
such  a period  of  life,  and  in  the  face  of  many  practical  difficulties,  it  could 
only  have  been  the  strong  and  deliberate  love  of  art,  for  her  own  sake 
and  delight  therein,  that  led  Doughty  to  sacrifice  an  assured  economical 
prosperity  to  the  attractive  but  precarious  career  thus  adopted. 

He  always  spoke  of  his  early  experiments  with  contempt ; and  seems  to 
have  had  little  other  instruction  before  he  made  them  than  was  afforded  by 
a single  quarter’s  tuition  in  India-ink  drawing.  His  woodland  landscapes, 
especially  many  small,  picturesque,  and  effectively  colored  scenes,  soon  be- 
came popular;  there  was  often  a cool,  vivid  tone,  a true  execution,  and 
especially  a genuine  American  character  about  them,  which,  in  the  early 
part  of  his  professional  life,  rendered  the  studies,  sketches,  and  finished 
landscapes  of  Doughty  more  characteristic,  suggestive,  and  interesting  to 


L andscape-P  ainters . 


507 


lovers  of  nature  and  of  art  among  us,  than  other  works  of  the  kind. 
After  a time,  Cole,  Durand,  Brown,  and  others,  made  native  landscape  art 
more  familiar  and  available  ; but  for  some  years  the  demand  for  and  the 
reputation  of  Doughty’s  pictures  indicated  a high  rank  and  an  effective 
style.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  American  artists  to  make  evident  the 
charm  of  what  is  called  the  “ silvery  tone,”  and  to  reproduce  with  genu- 
ine emphasis  and  grace  autumnal  effeCts.  His  “ Peep  at  the  Catskills,” 
“View  on  the  Hudson,”  “ Lake  Scene,”  and  “ Old  Mill,”  are  memorable. 
In  the  United  States,  at  London  and  Paris,  Doughty  pursued  the  art  he 
so  truly  loved  and  so  well  illustrated,  with  frequent  but  irregular  success, 
A collection  of  his  landscapes,  exhibited  in  Boston,  in  conjunction  with 
some  of  Fisher’s,  and  many  portraits  by  Harding  and  Alexander — then 
fashionable  artists — impressed  all  capable  judges  with  Doughty’s  remark- 
able talent  and  true  feeling  for  nature  ; and  the  same  impression  is  made 
upon  all  who  have  examined  the  specimens  in  the  possession  of  the  artist’s 
brother,  Col.  William  Doughty,  at  Georgetown,  D.  C.  The  latter  years 
of  Doughty  were  shadowed  by  misfortune  and  illness,  and  he  died  in 
poverty  at  New  York,  July  24,  1856.  “A  View  of  the  Hudson  River,” 
from  his  pencil,  belongs  to  J.  Taylor  Johnson,  of  New  York;  another, 
“ Near  the  Delaware  Water-Gap,”  was  sold  with  the  Wright  collection  ; “ A 
View  near  Fishkill,”  is  in  the  possession  of  J.  W.  Field,  Esq.,  of  Phila- 
delphia, Pa.  ; one  of  his  landscapes  is  in  the  Boston  Athenaeum  ; another, 
“ Scene  on  the  Susquehanna,”  is  in  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine 
Arts  ; also  a “ Canal  Scene.”  “ A View  near  Paris,”  and  “ Trout  Brook,” 
belong  to  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  About  his  sylvan  scenes 
there  is  often  a soft  and  sunny  tone  ; he  exhibits  the  delicacy  of  truth. 
To  one  who  knew  the  man  in  his  latter  years,  there  is  something  sadly  im- 
pressive in  the  contrast  between  his  work  and  his  life  ; for  pecuniary  ill- 
success  and  artistic  sensibility  rendered  him  morbidly  despondent  and  even 
perverse. 

Among  the  foreign  artists  whose  career,  naturalization,  and  domestica- 
tion in  the  United  States  identify  them  with  the  country,  and  whose 
artistic  career  is  intimately  associated  with  our  own  land- 
scape schools,  is  Gignoux,  whose  “ Winter  Scenes  ” be-  Gignoux. 
came  popular  at  the  time  when  our  landscape  art  was 
becoming  a recognized  and  creditable  faCt.  Educated  at  Fribourg,  he 
entered  the  Academy  of  St.  Pierre  at  Lyons — a school  celebrated  for 
flower-painting ; receiving  an  annual  premium,  he  studied  at  the  Royal 
School  of  Fine  Arts  in  Paris,  and  with  Delaroche  and  Vernet.  Becoming 
interested  in  a young  American  lady,  he  followed  his  brother  across  the 
Atlantic  in  1840,  married,  and,  struck  with  the  bold  and  beautiful  scenery 
of  the  country,  determined  to  pursue  his  vocation  as  well  as  establish  his 
home  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  A bit  of  glowing  canvas — the  sketch  of 
a sunset  on  a river — before  us  as  we  write,  suggests  Gignoux’s  urbane 
temperament ; he  having  left,  as  a visiting-card,  this  “ bit  of  sunshine,” 
characteristic  of  the  Gallic  cheerfulness  and  good-fellowship  of  the  man, 


l 


508 


American  Artist  Life. 


wherein  he  contrasts  strongly  with  the  more  serious  of  our  painters  in  the 
same  sphere,  and  adds  another  element  of  variety  to  the  versatile  group  of 
the  American  school  of  landscape-painters. 

It  is  indeed  a striking  evidence  of  the  advantages,  scenic  and  social, 
attainable  by  the  landscape-artist  in  America,  that  a leading  foreigner  in 
this  department  among  us  gained  his  position  therein  entirely  on  this  side 
of  the  ocean.  Francois  Regis  Gignoux  was  born  at  Lyons  in  1816. 
Adopting  at  an  early  age  the  profession  of  an  artist,  he  became  a student, 
intending  to  devote  himself  to  historical  painting.  Paul  Delaroche,  his 
early  teacher,  has  left  a name  not  less  identified  with  the  romantic  interest 
of  his  life  than  with  transcendent  professional  renown — his  striking  re- 
semblance to  the  first  Napoleon  ; his  marriage  with  the  gifted,  beautiful, 
early-lost,  and  widely-mourned  daughter  of  Horace  Vernet ; the  intense 
dramatic  and  characteristic  pathos  and  power  of  his  historical  pictures, 
culminating  in  that  of  Lady  Jane  Grey — which  so  tasked  his  brain  that 
thenceforth  he  was  a nervous  invalid — all  combine,  with  the  profound  im- 
pression his  artistic  genius  makes  on  every  imaginative  and  enthusiastic 
mind,  to  render  the  me'mory  of  Delaroche  the  most  personally  interesting  of 
all  modern  French  painters.  As  a teacher,  doubtless,  his  sensitive  organiza- 
tion and  prolonged  ill-health  made  his  moods  variable  ; his  Sieves , too,  amused 
themselves  by  observing  an  assumed  Napoleonic  style  in  his  folded  arms, 
method  of  wearing  his  hair,  and  frequent  contemplative  attitudes  ; instead 
of  deliberate  afifeclation,  however,  this  pardonable  weakness  may  have 
arisen  unconsciously,  and,  in  some  degree  at  least,  is  easily  traced  to  indi- 
vidual and  not  imitative  traits.  The  peculiar  ability  and  genuine  sentiment 
of  Delaroche  fitted  him  to  inspire  aspirants  in  art,  as  few  of  his  clever  but 
less  earnest  contemporaries  could  ; and  his  suggestions  were  valued  by  his 
pupils  as  coming  from  one  not  less  remarkable  for  deep  insight  and  sym- 
pathy than  great  technical  skill.  It  was  a casual  word  of  Delaroche  that 
decided  Gignoux  to  turn  his  attention  to  landscape  art.  Having  accom- 
panied a number  of  his  fellow-students  on  a summer  excursion  to  Switzer- 
land, he  brought  to  Paris,  among  other  sketches,  a view  of  a Swiss  village, 
and  one  of  a cottage  interior ; and  when  Delaroche  saw  them,  he  exclaimed  : 
“ You  are  strong  here  ; — be  a landscape-painter.”  Drawn  to  this  branch  of 
art  by  his  own  taste  and  love  of  nature,  and  encouraged  by  his  masters 
opinion,  Gignoux  thenceforth  devoted  his  pencil  almost  exclusively  thereto. 

He  was  first  known  among  us  by  his  winter  landscapes,  executed  with 
great  truth  to  nature  and  beauty  of  efifebt : it  has  been  said  that  some  of 

them  are  so  truthful  that  they  would  almost  allure  a snow-bunting  from 
the  sky.  Our  lovers  of  art,  comparatively  few  as  they  were  twenty-five 
years  ago,  considered  one  of  Gignoux’s  winter  scenes  essential  to  their 
limited  collections  ; and  orders  flowed  in  upon  him  far  beyond  his  ability 
to  execute.  It  is  a proof  of  his  versatile  and  assiduous  skill  that  the  same 
popularity  has  attended  each  successive  experiment  in  American  landscape; 
to  the  winter  succeeded  autumnal  views,  and  these  in  turn  were  in  equal 
demand  ; then  came  his  “Niagara  in  Winter,”  and  his  “Virginia  in  Indian 


Landscape-P 'ainters 


509 


Summer,”  both  of  which  created  a new  series  of  applications  for  works  of 
a similar  description,  or  duplicates  of  the  originals.  Gignoux  has  made  a 
study  of  American  scenery  under  every  aspect ; he  has  observed  nature 
in  the  New  World  with  reference  to  the  modifying  influence  of  the  seasons  ; 
and  in  many  instances  has  proved  singularly  felicitous  in  his  true  render- 
ing of  atmosphere,  sky,  and  vegetation,  as  they  are  changed  in  tone,  color, 
and  effeCt  by  vernal,  summer,  autumnal,  and  wintry  agencies. 

He  has  all  the  bonhommie  and  scientific  aptitudes  that  belong  to  his 
race  ; a genial  man  and  cheerful  worker,  he  carries  into  his  observation 
of  nature  no  morbid  feeling  ; but  catches  her  pleasantest  language,  and  de- 
lights in  reproducing  her  salient  effects.  His  landscapes  indicate  accuracy 
of  tone,  a legitimate  feeling  for  color,  and  a sympathy  with  the  picturesque. 
He  has  done  much  for  the  cause  of  art  in  Brooklyn,  L.  I.,  where  he  resides, 
and  was  eleCted  first  president  of  the  Art  Academy  there  established.  His 
summers  are  given  to  excursions,  whence  he  returns  with  oil-sketches 
from  nature  ; and  there  is  always  a landscape  on  his  easel,  with  numerous 
careful  studies  for  other  elaborate  works  at  hand. 

Among  the  landscapes  by  Gignoux,  which  have  contributed  to  his  repu- 
tation, afforded  great  pleasure  to  lovers  of  art  and  nature,  and  memorably 
illustrated  our  native  scenery,  are  “ The  Indian  Summer,”  wherein  the 
radiant  forest  hues  and  mellow  haze  of  that  season  are  admirably  delin- 
eated with  the  most  picturesque  forest-scene  and  characteristic  details  ; 
his  “ Niagara  in  Winter  ” is  a bold  and  successful  attempt  to  represent  the 
vast  ice-blocks  which  block  the  river,  and  the  huge  icicles  and  diverse  tints 
and  dreary  surroundings  of  the  marvellous  scene,  at  a season  when  com- 
parative solitude  and  a new  sublimity  enhance  its  grandeur  and  beauty. 
This  work  attracted  great  attention  in  Europe. 

A very  pleasing  landscape  called  “The  First  Snow”  is  among  his  later 
works,  and  is  no  less  delicate  than  authentic  in  treatment.  It  represents 
a great  lake,  bordered  on  the  left  by  an  old  road  which  is  arched  by  trees 
in  their  autumnal  colors  of  red  and  yellow  and  purple,  softened  and  tem- 
pered by  a gauzy  veil  of  snow.  In  the  distance  the  mountains  are  wrapped 
in  a shroud  of  white,  and  overhead  is  a pure  cold  sky.  In  the  same  spirit 
is  the  representation  of  “ Spring,”  wherein  the  newly-awakened  vegetation, 
the  peach-blossoms,  and  half-budded  forest-trees,  as  well  as  the  tone  of  the 
foreground  and  sky,  are  instinCt  with  the  peculiar  vernal  attributes  of  the 
season  as  manifest  in  the  Eastern  States.  One  of  Gignoux’s  best  winter 
scenes  was  painted  for  Charles  Gould,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  another  for 
Baron  Rothschild  ; his  “ Four  Seasons  in  America”  has  been  reproduced 
again  and  again  ; his  “ First  Snow  ” belongs  to  S.  Hallett,  Esq.,  of  Brook- 
lyn,,!.. I.  ; and  his  “ Niagara  by  Moonlight”  is  in  the  Belmont  gallery. 

In  a series  of  pictures  called  “ The  Seasons,”  Gignoux  embodied  the 
results  of  his  patient  study  of  their  phenomena  in  North  America,  giving 
many  exquisite  peculiarities  of  sky  and  vegetation,  minutely  true  to  the 
time  of  year,  and  often  having  a striCtly  local  significance  ; the  tone  of 
each  is  caught  direclly  from  nature,  and  gives  us  the  feeling  of  the  hour 


5io 


American  Artist  Life. 


with  impressive  accuracy.  Less  finished  in  detail,  but  carefully  true  in 
general  effect,  is  his  “ Bernese  Alps  by  Sunrise,”  of  which  it  has  been 
justly  observed  that  it  affords  an  excellent  idea  of  Switzerland  in  its  gen- 
eral aspebts.  The  traveller  feels,  at  a glance,  how  entirely  the  artist  has 
discriminated  in  this  and  other  landscapes  drawn  from  European  studies, 
between  the  forms  and  hues  of  nature  in  the  Old  and  New  World.  “The 
luminous  nature  of  the  atmosphere  is  skilfully  expressed,  and  the  aerial 
perspective  observable  in  the  immense  distance  given  to  the  mountains,  is 
admirably  carried  out.”  One  cannot  imagine  a stronger  contrast  than  that 
between  the  calm,  almost  solemn,  and  delicate  treatment  of  this  subject — 
the  Swiss  coolness,  greenness,  and  placidity,  with  the  warm,  brilliant  hues 
of  his  autumnal  scenes  caught  from  the  American  woods  and  skies  ; 
wherein  the  blazing  maple,  the  common  oak,  the  yellow  beech,  flash  in  the 
sunshine  beside  the  dark  emerald  of  the  evergreens,  the  moss-grown, 
neutral-tinted  trunks,  the  gray  rocks,  the  shadowy  lake — all  haloed  and 
enshrined  with  mist  which,  like  a veil  of  uncondensed  tears,  seems  to  hang 
mysteriously  and  tenderly  between  harvest-time  and  snow — the  hour  of 
riper  vital  beauty,  and  that  of  blank,  frozen  sleep.  Another  memorable 
picture  by  Gignoux  is  the  “Dismal  Swamp,”  painted  for  the  Earl  of  Elles- 
mere. If  collected,  the  works  of  this  indefatigable  and  accomplished 
artist,  besides  illustrating  many  foreign  scenes,  would  be  found  to  include 
the  most  complete  and  varied,  as  well  as  faithful  delineations  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  American  scenery  produced  by  a foreign  pencil. 

Like  Durand,  Kensett  was  initiated  into  the  practice  of  landscape  art 
through  engraving  ; and  to  this  may  be  ascribed  somewhat  of  the  careful 
work  so  manifest  in  his  pictures.  He  studied  engraving 
Kensett.  with  his  uncle,  Alfred  Daggett,  who,  for  several  years,  was 
noted  for  the  excellence  of  his  bank-note  vignettes.  While 
thus  occupied  in  the  fine  execution  incident  to  this  art,  he  turned  to  paint- 
ing as  a recreation  ; and  his  love  therefor,  as  well  as  his  progressive  taste 
and  ability  therein,  led  him  in  1845  t0  abandon  the  burin  for  the  pencil. 
Born  on  the  22d  of  March,  1818,  at  Cheshire,  in  Connedlicut,  when  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age  he  visited  England ; and  five  years  after,  sent  to  the 
Royal  Academy  Exhibition  a view  of  Windsor  Castle  ; the  merit  of  this 
first  attempt  may  be  inferred  from  the  fadt  that  it  was  purchased  by  a prize- 
holder  in  the  London  Art-Union. 

While  in  Europe  in  1840  with  Durand,  Casilaer,  and  Rossiter,  he  studied 
the  antique  and  practised  in  oil.  It  was  amid  the  gracious  scene  of  Pope’s 
juvenile  rhymes,  that  Kensett  first  enjoyed  the  delight  of  successfully  re- 
presenting nature  : “My  real  life  commenced  there,”  he  writes,  “in  the 
study  of  the  stately  woods  of  Windsor,  and  the  famous  beeches  of  Burn- 
ham, and  the  lovely  and  fascinating  landscape  that  surrounds  them.”  He 
made  assiduous  studies  during  a pedestrian  tour  through  Switzerland,  up 
the  Rhine,  and  amid  the  Italian  lakes,  passing  two  winters  at  Rome,  and  a 
summer  in  the  Abruzzi  mountains  ; and  part  of  another  on  the  Bay  of 
Naples,  and  at  Palermo. 


L andscape-Pa  in  ters. 


5 I T 

From  Rome  Kensett  sent  to  America  several  Italian  landscapes,  two  of 
which,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Art-Union,  first  made  his  name  and  works 
familiar  to  his  countrymen.  He  passed  seven- years  abroad,  constantly 
improving  in  execution  and  enlarging  his  knowledge  of  scenery.  Upon 
his  return  to  his  native  land,  he  commenced  a series  of  careful  studies  of 
our  mountain,  lake,  forest,  and  coast  landscape  ; and  in  his  delineation  of 
rocks,  trees,  and  water,  attained  a wide  and  permanent  celebrity-  Year 
after  year  he  studiously  explored  and  faithfully  painted  the  mountains  of 
New  England  and  New  York,  the  lakes  and  rivers  of  the  Middle  States, 
and  the  Eastern  sea-coast,  selecting  with  much  judgment  or  combining  with 
rare  taCl  the  most  characteristic  features  and  phases  of  each.  Many  of 
these  landscapes,  patiently  elaborated  as  they  were  from  studies  made 
from  nature,  at  once  gained  the  artist  numerous  admirers  and  liberal  patrons. 
His  “ Mount  Washington,  from  North  Conway,”  “ Hudson  River,  from 
Fort  Putnam,”  “ Sunset  on  the  Coast,”  “ Eagle  Cliffs,”  11  Franconia  Moun- 
tains,” “ Sunset  on  the  Adirondacks,”  u Scenes  on  the  Genesee  River,” 
“ Lake  George,”  and  “ Sea-coast  near  Newport,”  with  many  other  beautiful 
and  interesting  subjects,  are  memorable  illustrations  of  the  scope  and  char- 
acter of  our  natural  landscape,  and  are  identified  with  his  graceful  and 
true  triumphs  in  art  with  whose  earliest  renown  in  America  his  name  will 
ever  be  honorably  and  genially  associated.  His  good  sense  and  good  feel- 
ing as  an  artist  caused  him  to  be  appointed,  at  the  earnest  instance  of  his 
comrades,  one  of  the  Art  Commissioners  to  regulate  the  ornamentation  of 
the  National  Capitol.  Since  1848  he  has  been  connected  with  the  National 
Academy,  and  his  studio  has  been  one  of  the  attractions  in  New  York  to 
all  lovers  of  art  and  native  scenery.  In  some  of  his  pictures  the  dense 
growth  of  trees  on  a rocky  ledge,  with  the  dripping  stones  and  mouldy 
lichens,  are  rendered  with  the  literal  minuteness  of  one  of  the  old  Flemish 
painters.  It  is  on  this  account  that  Kensett  enjoys  an  exceptional  reputa- 
tion among  the  extreme  advocates  of  the  Pre-Raphaelite  school,  who  praise 
him  while  ignoring  the  claims  of  other  American  landscape-artists.  But  this 
fidelity  to  detail  is  but  a single  element  of  his  success.  His  best  pictures 
exhibit  a rare  purity  of  feeling,  an  accuracy  and  delicacy,  and  especially  a 
harmonious  treatment,  perfectly  adapted  to  the  subjeCt.  Here  it  may  be 
an  elm-tree,  full  of  grace  and  beauty,  crowning  a scene  of  rural  peace, 
which  steals,  like  nature’s  own  balm,  upon  the  heart  of  the  spectator  ; there 
a “ Reminiscence  of  Lake  George  ” is  wrought  up  to  the  highest  degree  of 
truth  from  the  autumn  mist  to  the  lucent  water  and  gracefully-looming 
mountains  ; now  it  is  the  dark  umbrage,  and  now  the  shelving  glen  ; here 
a ridge  of  stone  and  there  a stormy  mountain-cloud,  or  exquisite  beach  with 
greenly-curving  and  snowy-fringed  billows— and  all  seem  so  instinCt,  both 
as  to  form  and  hue,  tone  and  impression,  with  nature’s  truth,  that  they  win 
and  warm,  calm  or  cheer,  the  heart  of  her  votary,  like  the  voice  of  one  be- 
loved, or  the  responsive  glance  of  a kindred  soul. 

An  able  critic,  in  describing  his  “ Lake  George,”  has  well  said  of  this 
artist : — 


512 


American  Artist  Life . 


“ The  most  unaggressive  and  loved  of  the  leaders  of  the  American  school* 
of  painting  has  at  length  produced  a picture  of  size  sufficient  to  call  forth 
his  best  strength,  and  of  importance  enough  in  subject-matter,  if  success- 
fully treated,  to  confirm  his  position  as  one  of  the  three  foremost  men  of 
our  landscape  art.  Mr.  Kensett  has  long  been  accepted  as  a most  con- 
summate master  in  the  treatment  of  subjects  full  of  repose  and  sweetness, 
and  been  honored  by  critics  and  painters  for  the  simple  and  unpretending 
character  of  his  works — works  remarkable  for  tenderness  and  refinement 
of  feeling,  exquisite  quality  of  color,  and  a free  and  individual  method  of 
painting  certain  fadts  of  nature.  Not  great  or  extended  in  his  range,  not  a 
colorist  in  the  absolute  sense  of  the  term,  but  with  an  unfailing  feeling  for 
harmony,  and  of  a judicious  and  . liberal  mind,  noticeable  for  taste,  Mr. 
Kensett  has  painted  some  of  the  most  exquisite  pictures  that  illustrate  our 
art.  Never  invoking  the  assistance  of  a great  or  sensational  subjedt,  but 
sedulously  seeking  for  the  simplest  material,  he  has  by  his  skill  and  feeling 
as  a painter,  taught  us  the  beauty  and  poetry  of  subjects  that  have  been 
called  meagre  and  devoid  of  interest.  By  infusing  his  personality  into  his 
work,  by  painting  conscientiously,  and  up  to  his  understanding  of  nature, 
by  the  utter  absence  of  cant  and  affedtation  of  what  is  called  truth  in  art, 
which  too  often  means  the  limitations  of  a narrow,  immature,  and  unphilo- 
sophical  understanding  of  nature,  he  has  rendered  for  us  much  of  the  free 
spirit  of  this  world,  in  which  our  senses  converse  with  delight  ; and  if  at 
times  devoid  of  strength,  in  his  best  estate  he  fairly  won  for  himself  the 
honor  of  being  called  the  lyrical  poet  of  American  landscape  art.” 

The  subdued  tone  of  the  autumnal  atmosphere  and  foliage  in  this  picture 
is  tender  and  true  ; its  effect  is  singularly  harmonious  ; how  exquisite  the 
clouds,  warm  the  atmosphere,  and  effective  the  large  oak  in  the  foreground  ; 
and,  above  all,  what  sublime  repose  ! Kensett  does  not  merely  imitate,  or 
emphasize,  or  reflect  nature — he  interprets  her — which  we  take  to  be  the 
legitimate  and  holy  task  of  the  scenic  limner. 

One  of  Kensett’s  inimitable  landscapes  is  a favorite  little  engraving. 
The  style  of  none  of  our  artists  is  better  adapted  to  the  burin.  His  rocks 
and  foliage  are  so  well  defined  as  to  bear  transfer  admirably.  His  coast 
scenes  are  so  popular  that  they  find  purchasers  before  they  leave  the  easel ; 
but  many  who  would  fain  possess  one  of  these  charming  memorials  of  a 
favorite  summer  haunt,  cannot  well  afford  to  buy  an  oil  pidture  ; to  such, 
a good  engraving  therefrom  is  a great  boon.  Mr.  Knoedler  published  a 
beautiful  specimen  of  this  kind,  under  the  title  of  “Noon  on  the  Sea- 
Shore.”  In  size,  though  not  in  general  effedt,  it  resembles  the  popular 
little  print  from  Church’s  “ Morning  in  the  Tropics.”  The  engraving  from 
Kensett,  however,  is  more  distindt  and  emphatic  ; the  scene  is  thoroughly 
American — typical  of  our  Eastern  sea-coast.  It  is  most  skilfully  engraved 
by  S.  V.  Hunt. 

Kensett’s  “White  Mountains”  was  purchased  at  the  Wright  sale  for 
thirteen  hundred  dollars  ; his  “ Ulswater — Cumberland,  England,”  be- 
longs to  George  W.  Riggs,  Esq.,  of  Washington,  D.  C.  ; “A  View  of  Lake 


L andscap  e-Pa  in  ters. 


5*3 


George,”  to  A.  M.  Cozzens,  Esq.  ; “ A Reminiscence  of  New  England,” 
to  Le  Grand  Lockwood,  Esq.  ; “ White  Mountain  Scenery,”  and  “ Noon 
on  the  Sea-Shore,”  to  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; five 
marine  views  near  Newport,  to  R.  L.  Stuart,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  “ Octo- 
ber Afternoon  on  Lake  George,”  “ Adirondacks,”  “Genesee  Valley,” 
“Fort  Dumpling,”  “The  North  River,”  “ Niagara,”  “ Trenton  Scenery,” 
“Newport  Harbor,”  and  “The  Housatonic  Valley,”  to  R.  M.  Oliphant, 
Esq.,  of  New  York  ; and  “ Coast  Scenery,”  to  James  Lenox,  Esq.,  of 
New  York;  an  elaborate  view  of  the  White  Mountains  belongs  to  the 
New  York  Century  Club.  One  or  more  of  his  landscapes  adorn  every 
private  collection  of  interest.  His  range  of  subjects  is  wide  and  varied, 
including  the  Catskills,  Adirondacks,  White  Mountains,  the  Hudson,  Up- 
per Missouri  and  Mississippi,  Niagara  — Italian,  English,  and  Swiss 
scenery — lakes,  hills,  rivers,  woods,  sea-shore,  and  valleys. 

When  one  of  Kensett’s  American  coast-scenes  was  recently  exhibited 
in  Belgium,  its  strong,  clear,  and  true  traits  formed  so  marked  a contrast 
to  the  more  vague  and  artificial  landscapes  around,  that  it  became  the 
centre  of  attraction  ; the  best  critics  awarded  it  the  palm  ; and  a score  of 
eager  amateurs  beset  our  minister  at  Brussels,  to  whom  the  picture  be- 
longed, with  their  praises  and  orders. 

The  variety  and  faithfulness  of  Kensett’s  studies  of  landscape  may  be 
learned  at  once  by  the  sketches  on  the  walls  of  his  room.  The  traveller 
recognizes  localities  at  a glance.  One  of  the  marked  excellences  of  this 
artist  is  the  truth  and  definite  character  of  his  outline  ; accordingly  we  be- 
hold a fragment  of  the  Apennine  range,  an  Alpine  peak,  and  the  more 
rounded  swell  of  American  mountains,  in  these  artistic  data  for  elaborate 
works.  Careful  observation  is  the  source  of  Kensett’s  eminent  success. 
He  gives  the  form  and  superficial  traits  of  land  and  water  so  exaCtly  as  to 
stamp  on  the  most  hasty  sketch  a local* character  indicative  of  similitude. 
His  landscapes  would  charm  even  a man  of  science,  so  loyal  to  natural 
peculiarities  are  his  touch  and  eye.  Equally  felicitous  in  the  transfer  of  at- 
mospheric effeCts  to  canvas,  and  with  a genius  for  composition,  scenery  is 
illustrated  by  his  fertile  and  well-disciplined  pencil  with  rare  correctness  and 
beauty.  Every  material  that  goes  to  the  formation  of  a landscape  he  ap- 
pears to  have  carefully  studied.  We  retrace,  at  ease,  our  summer  wander- 
ings, in  his  studio  : there  are  the  “ Hanging- Rocks  ” which  bound  good 
Bishop  Berkeley’s  old  Rhode  Island  domain  ; here  a bluff  we  beheld  on 
the  Upper  Mississippi  ; and  opposite,  an  angle  in  the  gorge  at  Trenton, 
where  we  watched  the  amber  flash  of  the  cascade  ; how  finely  is  reflected 
the  morning  and  afternoon  light  of  early  autumn  in  America,  in  these  two 
charming  pictures  ; there  is  “ Lake  George  ” itself — the  islands,  the  shore, 
the  lucid  water  ; how  native  is  the  hue  of  yon  umbrageous  notch  ; and 
what  Flemish  truth  in  the  grain  of  that  trap-rock  ; how  rich  the  contrast 
between  the  glow  of  summer  and  the  colorless  snow  on  the  summit  of  the 
Jungfrau  ; the  trees  in  this  more  finished  piece  are  daguerrotyped  from  a 
wood,  with  the  fresh  tint  of  the  originals  superadded, 

! 33 


5i4 


American  Artist  Life. 


There  is  one  obstacle  to  impartiality  in  estimating  Kensett,  as  an  artist, 
to  one  who  knows  him  well  ; and  that  is  the  personal  confidence  and  sym- 
pathy he  inspires.  Of  all  our  artists,  he  has  the  most  thoroughly  amiable 
disposition,  is  wholly  superior  to  envy,  and  pursues  his  vocation  in  such  a 
spirit  of  love  and  kindliness,  that  a critic  must  be  made  of  very  hard  mate- 
rial who  can  find  it  in  his  heart  to  say  a severe,  inconsiderate,  or  careless 
word  about  John  F.  Kensett.  Perhaps  some  of  our  readers  will  think  all 
this  is  quite  irrelevant  to  the  present  objeCt,  which  is  to  define  Kensett’s 
position  in  art,  wherewith  personal  qualities,  it  may  be  argued,  have  noth- 
ing to  do.  But  we  are  of  a contrary  opinion.  The  disposition  or  moral 
nature  of  an  artist  direCtly  and  absolutely  influence  his  works.  We  con- 
stantly talk  of  a “feeling  for  color” — of  a picture  exhibiting  a fine  or  a true 
“feeling,”  and  thus  instinctively  recognize  a transfusion  of  the  natural  senti- 
ment and  atone  of  mind  into  and  through  the  mechanical  execution,  design, 
and  spirit  of  a piCtorial  work.  In  landscape-painting  especially,  this  result 
is  obvious  ; Salvator’s  wild  woods  and  savage  romance,  Canaletti’s  literal 
correctness,  Claude’s  vague,  but  poetic  sentiment,  characterize  their  paint- 
ings. The  calm  sweetness  of  Kensett’s  best  efforts,  the  conscientiousness 
with  which  he  preserves  local  diversities — the  evenness  of  manner,  the  pa- 
tience in  detail,  the  harmonious  tone — all  are  traceable  to  the  artist’s  feeling 
and  innate  disposition,  as  well  as  to  his  skill.  If  we  desired  to  carry  abroad 
genuine  memorials  of  native  scenery — to  keep  alive  its  impression  in  a 
foreign  land — we  should  seledt  half-a-dozen  of  Kensett’s  landscapes.  Other 
artists  may  have  produced  single  pictures  of  more  genius  ; may  be  in  cer- 
tain instances  superior  ; but,  on  the  whole,  for  average  success,  Kensett’s 
pictures  are — we  do  not  say  always  the  most  brilliant,  effective,  or  original 
— but  often  the  most  satisfactory.  So  thought  Lord  Ellesmere,  after  visit- 
ing nearly  all  our  native  studios,  and  so  think  those  who  have  most  care- 
fully studied  American  scenery.  It  is  rarely  that,  to  use  a common  phrase, 
we  can  locate  a landscape  so  confidently  as  Kensett’s  ; the  vein  of  rock, 
perhaps,  identifies  the  scene  as  in  New  Jersey, — the  kind  of  cedar  or  grass 
assures  us  that  it  was  taken  on  the  Hudson, — and  the  tint  of  water  or  form 
of  mountains  suggests  Lake  George.  There  was  a time  when  we  feared 
Kensett,  with  all  his  merits,  would  become  a mannerist, — so  peculiar  and 
stereotyped  were  some  traits  ; but  he  soon  outgrew  this,  by  enlarging  his 
experience — studying  nature  at  the  English  lakes,  as  well  as  along  the  Erie 
Railway,  and  in  the  Adirondacks,  not  less  than  by  the  sea-coast ; his  pic- 
tures of  the  latter  illustrate  what  we  have  said  of  his  local  truth  ; for  they 
define  the  diversities  of  the  New  England  coast.  We  all  feel  that  Newport 
scenery — even  that  of  the  sea — so  apparently  monotonous,  differs  from  that 
of  Beverly  and  its  vicinage,  but  it  would  be  hard  to  point  out  the  individu- 
alities of  the  two  ; Kensett  does  it  with  his  faithful  and  genial  pencil.  He 
is  as  assiduous  as  he  is  tasteful. 

Whittredge  is  remarkably  accurate  in  drawing — a probable  result  of 
his  Diisselclorf  studies  ; and  there  is  sometimes  not  only 
a feeling  for  but  in  his  color,  which  betokens  no  com- 


L ands cape- Painters. 


5 T5 

mon  intimacy  with  the  picturesque  and  poetical  side  of  nature.  In  a 
little  autumn  scene,  the  deep  crimson  of  a creeper,  a dreamy  level,  the 
true  rendering  of  the  trunk  and  branches  of  a tree,  the  clear,  dark,  calm  lake, 
the  many-tinted  woods,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  pervading  light  re- 
veals and  modifies  all  these,  show  that  Whittredge  unites  to  the  American 
fidelity  to  nature  in  feeling,  much  of  the  practical  skill  derived  from  foreign 
study.  The  seasons  are  finely  and  truly  discriminated  in  his  pictures  ; how 
diverse  in  total  impression  and  significant  details  is  his  “ Summer  ” from  the 
“ Autumn  ; ” in  the  former  we  have  a cool  tone  imparted  by  woods  and  water 
to  a sultry  atmosphere  ; the  kine  knee-deep  in  a shaded  stream,  with  the 
details  and  accessories,  tell  the  whole  story  of  a warm  day  in  the  country, 
and  tell  it  to  the  memory  as  well  as  to  the  eye.  There  is  a chastened  power 
and  faithful  study  in  the  best  of  this  artist’s  works  which  appeal  quietly,  but 
with  persuasive  meaning,  to  the  mind  of  every  one  who  looks  on  nature 
with  even  an  inkling  of  Wordsworth’s  spirit,  and  it  has  been  justly  said  of 
Whittredge  that  his  landscapes  often  “give  the  aspeCt  of  foreign  scenes, 
treated  with  remarkable  fidelity,  and  with  a degree  of  repose  in  harmony 
with  the  sentiment  of  the  country  portrayed.” 

Worthington  Whittredge  was  born  in  Ohio,  in  1820.  His  father  was  a 
Massachusetts  farmer,  and  one  of  the  early  emigrants  to  the  West ; the 
family  were  among  the  earliest  settlers  of  Cape  Ann.  As  soon  as  the 
future  artist  attained  his  majority  he  went  to  Cincinnati,  with  a view  to 
establish  himself  in  some  kind  of  business.  After  trying  several  pursuits, 
and  failing  to  succeed  in  any,  he  determined  to  follow  his  artistic  tendencies, 
and  at  once  applied  himself  to  acquire  the  necessary  preliminary  instruc- 
tion ; and  soon  began  to  paint  portraits.  At  that  time  in  Cincinnati  there 
were  a number  of  artists,  who,  if  not  all  residing  there,  still  hailed  from  that 
city  ; and  much  local  pride  was  felt  among  the  citizens  in  their  fame. 
Powers,  who  had  displayed  much  talent  not  only  in  his  peculiar  art  as  a 
sculptor,  but  in  arranging  a singularly  ingenious  representation  of  Dante’s 
“ Inferno,”  which  was  shown  for  many  years  in  the  old  Museum  to  thou- 
sands of  spectators,  had  just  gone  to  Florence,  under  the  auspices  of 
Mr.  Nicholas  Longworth  ; Clevenger,  who  succeeded  him,  had  also  been 
in  Florence  a short  time,  and  had  sent  home  works  of  promise.  The 
general  taste  was  for  sculpture.  Portrait-painting,  however,  was  the  most 
lucrative  branch,  and  won  the  most  disciples.  H.  Iv.  Browne  was  a portrait- 
painter  in  Cincinnati  at  this  time,  and  commenced  his  first  bust  or  first 
study  as  a sculptor  in  Cincinnati.  Among  the  gentlemen  prominent  in 
Cincinnati  as  patrons  of  art,  were  Mr.  Nicholas  Longworth,  Mr.  John 
Foote,  Mr.  Charles  Stetson,  Hon.  Judge  Burnett,  and  Mr.  Griffin  Taylor. 
These  gentlemen  possessed  a few  pictures — portraits  by  Jarvis,  Sully, 
Harding,  and  others,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  making  winter  tours  through 
the  South  and  West.  Here  and  there  their  drawing-rooms  were  decorated 
with  an  old  picture  or  a landscape  by  Doughty,  Cole,  or  Durand.  To  these 
gentlemen  much  is  due  for  their  encouragement  of  the  artists  springing  up 
in  their  midst.  They  formed  a harmonious  circle  of  cultivated  minds,  fully 


5 1 6 


American  Artist  Life. 


appreciating  and  loving  art,  and  always  ready  to  encourage  talent.  Later 
emigrants  to  the  city,  though  not  without  many  prominent  examples  of  en- 
couragement to  art  and  artists,  have  scarcely  shown  such  a lively  interest  or 
so  much  pride  in  rising  talent,  or  such  a pure  love  for  the  arts  themselves. 
Among  those  who  possess  the  best  collections  of  pictures  in  Cincinnati, 
are  W.  W.  Scarborough,  who  has  several  valuable  Coles,  pictures  by  Les- 
sing, Achenbach,  and  other  celebrated  German  artists  ; Wm.  Groesbeck 
owns  a similar  collection  ; and  R.  W.  Burnett,  Joseph  Longworth,  George 
K.  Shoenberger,  have  valuable  colieCtions,  chiefly  of  the  more  famous 
modern  European,  and  of  our  own  leading  artists.  The  latter  owns 
Leutze’s  “ Venice,”  and  with  his  brother  at  Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  has,  for 
many  years,  been  a liberal  patron  of  art  in  the  West.  Whittredge  was 
therefore  not  without  an  art-atmosphere  during  his  novitiate,  and  he  pursued 
portraiture  a short  time.  His  love  for  the  country  and  nature,  together 
with  the  enticing  examples  of  landscape  art  occasionally  presented  to  him, 
soon  won  him  to  a more  congenial  branch.  Fora  time  he  devoted  himself 
entirely  to  studying  from  nature,  taking  his  paint-box  in  his  hand  and  going 
into  the  woods,  in  the  manner  of  our  landscape-painters  at  the  present  time, 
a mode  of  study  not  so  generally  pursued  at  that  period  as  now.  He  con- 
tinued to  paint  in  Cincinnati,  finding  a ready  sale  for  his  works  among  the 
citizens  until  1849,  when,  receiving  a number  of  commissions  from  the  lead- 
ing men  of  the  place,  he  determined  to  visit  Europe.  He  first  went  to 
London,  and  after  passing  a short  time  in  that  city,  proceeded  to  Paris, 
where  he  remained  several  months  ; visiting  the  Rhine  on  a sketching 
tour,  he  stopped  at  Diisseldorf,  and  made  the  acquaintance,  among  others, 
of  Andreas  Achenbach,  who  kindly  offered  to  take  him  as  a pupil.  Not 
very  well  pleased  with  the  general  style  of  German  art,  he  still  held  Achen- 
bach, Lessing,  and  a few  others,  in  high  estimation  ; and  this  rare  opportu- 
nity being  offered  to  obtain  instruction,  he  embraced  it,  and  remained  under 
the  tuition  of  this  celebrated  artist  about  three  years.  His  summers  were 
spent  in  making  sketches  on  the  Rhine,  in  Westphalia,  the  Harz  Moun- 
tains, and  in  Switzerland. 

His  most  important  pictures  of  this  period  are  “ The  Lielengebirge,” 
from  Drachenfels,  and  “ The  Brocken,”  large  works  now  in  the  posses- 
sion of  John  Groesbeck,  Esq.,  of  Cincinnati ; and  “ The  Pilgrims  of  St. 
Roche,”  a Rhenish  landscape,  embracing  a large  number  of  figures,  painted 
for  Winthrop  B.  Smith,  then  a publisher  in  Cincinnati.  Nearly  all  Whit- 
tredge’s  pictures  painted  in  Diisseldorf,  as  well  as  those  afterward  fin- 
ished at  Rome,  were  sent  diredtly  to  his  Western  friends,  and  have  never 
been  exhibited  in  New  York. 

From  Diisseldorf  he  went  to  Holland  and  Belgium,  and  thence  to  Rome,, 
where  he  remained  four  years.  “ The  Roman  Campagna,”  commissioned 
by  Mr.  Theodore  Branson,  and  exhibited  in  the  National  Academy  of  De- 
sign in  1859,  was  the  first  of  his  elaborate  works.  “The  Schutzenfest,”  a 
large  Swiss  landscape,  with  numerous  figures,  was  purchased  by  Mr.  Sam- 
uel B.  Fales.  a well-known  connoisseur  of  Philadelphia.  In  1859  Whit- 


L andscapc-Pa  in  ters. 


517 


tredge  returned  to  the  United  States,  and  opened  a studio.  Since  that 
time  his  attention  has  been  chiefly  turned  to  representations  of  our  own 
scenery,  and  subjects  of  a domestic  character.  He  has  made  a number  of 
studies  of  the  interiors  of  the  old  manor-houses  in  different  parts  of  the 
country.  Two  pictures  of  this  class,  painted  a few  years  ago— “ The 
Window,”  belonging  to  Mr.  R.  L.  Stuart  ; and  “ A Hundred  Years  Ago,” 
belonging  to  Mr.  Robert  Oliphant,  and  among  the  best  of  these  pictures 
by  him. 

Among  his  principal  landscapes,  since  his  return,  are  “Twilight  on  the 
Shawangunk  Mountains,”  in  possession  of  Winthrop  B.  Smith,  of  Phila- 
delphia; “The  Old  Hunting  Grounds,”  sent  to  the  Paris  Exposition,  be- 
longing to  J.  W.  Pinchot,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  “Berkeley’s  Seat,”  New- 
port, owned  by  A.  M.  Cozzens  ; “ Lake  George,”  belonging  to  Robert 
Gordon,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “The  Ruins  of  Tusculum,”  in  the  posses- 
sion of  James  McKaye,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “ The  Glen  ” — Pludson  River 
scenery  — owned  by  the  late  J.  B.  Cromwell,  New  York;  “The  River 
Nahe,”  belongingto  Mr.  Jay  Cooke,  of  Philadelphia;  a small  picture  of  the 
Western  Plains,  in  the  possession  of  H.  G.  Marquand,  and  a large  pic- 
ture, lately  finished,  called  “ The  Plains  at  the  Base  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains.” Many  other  pictures  of  his  have  found  purchasers  among  our 
citizens,  but  those  above  mentioned  are  probably  the  best  remembered  by 
visitors  to  the  usual  exhibitions,  and  have  received  the  most  favorable 
notice  from  the  public. 

In  search  of  the  farthest  range  of  Western  scenery,  Whittredge  accom- 
panied General  Pope,  commanding  the  Department  of  Missouri,  on  his 
journey  of  inspection,  in  1866,  and  returned  with  his  portfolio  enriched 
with  sketches  of  the  wildest  mountain  views.  A Colorado  correspondent 
gives  us  a glimpse  of  the  artist  in  these  lonely  and  far-away  roamings  in 
search  of  the  picturesque  : — 

“Just  before  we  turn  to  the  left,  to  plunge  into  the  Virginia  canon,  lead- 
ing down  to  Idaho,  we  remark,  on  the  summit  of  the  high  mountain  to 
the  right, 

“ ‘ Where  splinters  of  the  mountain  chain 
Stood  black  against  the  sky,’ 

a man  engaged  in  some  occupation  that  no  one  of  our  party  could  make 
out. 

“ 4 It’s  a prospeCtor,”  said  one. 

“ 1 Bad  place  for  gold,’  said  a Centralizer  ; ‘ no  chance  there.’ 

“ A field-glass  was  brought  to  bear,  and  it  was  announced  he  had  small, 
thin  sticks  in  his  hand,  one  of  them  quite  long,  and  half-a-dozen  short. 

* “ 4 Witches’  hazel  wands  ! ’ 

“ 4 No,  he  has  a book  spread  out  before  him,  and  appears  to  be  looking 
at  the  clouds,  or  the  great  snowy  ridge.’ 

“We  afterwards  learned  it  was  Whittredge,  the  landscape-painter,  for- 
merly of  Cincinnati,  now  of  New  York  ; and  pleasant  it  was  to  think  that, 


i 


5 1 8 


American  Artist  Life. 


while  so  many  below  were  toiling  for  the  yellow  dross,  dug  out  with  infinite 
labor,  to  make  one  man  rich,  he  was  transmuting  from  the  sky,  the  clouds, 
the  rocks,  and  the  snow-capped  hills,  the  true  gold  of  nature’s  own  loveli- 
ness and  grandeur,  to  delight  the  eye,  adorn  the  mind,  and  enrich  the  im- 
agination of  thousands.” 

Whittredge’s  “Twilight  on  the  Shawangunk  Mountains  ” is  a memor- 
able landscape — remarkable  for  its  vivid  and  true  effeCt  of  light — the  deep 
yet  clear  amber  gleam  of  the  horizon  in  contrast  with  the  wild  and  shadowy 
hills.  His  “ Old  Hunting  Ground  ” has  been  well  called  an  idyl,  telling 
its  story  in  the  deserted,  broken  canoe,  the  shallow  bit  of  water  wherein  a 
deer  stoops  to  drink,  and  the  melancholy  silvery  birches  that  bend  under 
the  weight  of  years,  and  lean  towards  each  other  as  though  breathing  of 
the  light  of  other  days  ere  the  red  man  sought  other  grounds,  and  left 
them  to  sough  and  sigh  in  solitude.  Whittredge  has  been  well  described 
by  one  of  his  friends  : 

“The  artist,  as  he  stands' before  his  easel,  is  quite  as  much  of  a study 
as  the  pibture  growing  up  under  his  hand.  He  is  a tall,  dark-complexioned 
man,  of  about  forty-three  years  of  age  ; straight,  dignified,  and  more  strik- 
ing than  handsome  in  his  general  appearance.  He  resembles  in  face  and 
figure  a middle-aged  cavalier  of  Spain  or  Portugal,  and  a portrait  of  him 
in  that  costume,  by  Leutze,  which  is  hanging  in  his  studio,  might  pass  for 
a likeness  for  such  an  individual  by  Vandyke,  or  some  old  master  of  along 
past  century.  In  manner,  Mr.  Whittredge  is  very  courteous.  Not  natu- 
rally talkative,  he  manages  to  entertain  his  guests  by  agreeable  conversation, 
and  makes  them  feel  perfectly  at  home.  While  at  work  he  is  very  much 
absorbed  in  his  task,  and  seldom  moves  his  eyes  from  the  canvas  before 
him  ; except,  indeed,  to  cast  occasional  glances  at  the  sketches  and  studies 
that  lie  scattered  on  the  floor  around  him,  or  propped  up  against  the  back 
of  a chair  close  by.” 

Whittredge  is  a progressive  artist ; he  acquired  with  the  dexterity,  some 
of  the  mannerism  of  the  Diisseldorf  school  ; but  constant  and  loving 
study  of  nature,  since  his  return  from  abroad,  has  modified  this  habitude  ; 
he  is  more  original,  and  applies  his  skill  with  deeper  sentiment ; con- 
scientiously devoted  to  his  art,  for  manly  fidelity  to  the  simple  verities  of 
nature,  no  one  of  our  painters  is  more  consistently  distinguished  than 
Worthington  Whittredge. 

The  lover  of  American  river  and  creek  scenery,  as  it  exists  in  the  Middle 
and  Western  States,  will  often  experience  a delightful  surprise  by  encoun- 
tering, in  the  dwellings  of  many  art-lovers  of  Philadelphia, 
Russell  Smith.  representations  thereof,  remarkable  for  vividness  of  tone 
and  freedom  of  treatment,  from  the  pencil  of  William 
Russell  Smith.  In  the  latter  quality,  so  essential  to  the  successful  render- 
ing of  what  is  most  characteristic  in  our  native  landscape,  some  of  these 
delineations  offer  a refreshing  contrast  to  that  minute  and  imitative  skill 
which  “ endeavors  to  atone  by  microscopic  accuracy  for  imbecility  in 
fundamental  principles.”  The  career  of  this  artist  has  been  as  modest  as 


L andscape-  Pa  inters . 


5 19 


it  is  consistent : avoiding  rather  than  seeking  notoriety,  living  fondly  in 
the  bosom  of  nature  ; of  a domestic  rather  than  social  disposition,  he  has 
been  and  is  exclusively  known  and  cherished  as  a painter  by  the  legitimate 
attractions  of  his  style  and  the  fidelity  of  his  work  ; his  subjects  have 
been  drawn  from  regions  abounding  in  the  picturesque,  but  less  hack- 
neyed than  those  which  the  renowned  localities  of  New  England  and  New 
York  afford.  His  fame,  like  his  pictures,  is  local,  and  perhaps,  on  this 
account,  more  genuine  and  more  endeared.  We  have  seldom  found  land- 
scapes more  cherished  by  their  owners,  or  more  enjoyed  by  those  intimately 
acquainted  with  their  authentic  charms.  The  same  deep  love  of  nature 
leading  to  simplicity  and  force  of  color  and  limning,  which  we  have  desig- 
nated as  a leading  characteristic  of  all  our  best  landscape  artists,  is 
evident  in  the  productions  of  Russell  Smith  ; but  the  peculiar  breadth 
and  boldness — the  remarkable  freedom  of  touch  and  scope — is  an  individ- 
ual trait  for  which  he  is  indebted  to  long  and  skilful  practice  as  a scenic 
painter.  So  striking  is  the  advantage  thus  derived,  in  this  instance,  that 
we  cannot  but  think  it  would  prove,  under  proper  regulation,  a most  aus- 
picious experimental  discipline  for  those  of  our  landscape  artists  who,  with 
adequate  tact  and  facility  for  detail,  lack  the  power  of  seizing  general  effeCts 
with  confidence  and  truth.  In  the  happiest  efforts  of  this  artist,  we  find 
the  fresh  and  free  impression  of  nature  reproduced  with  singular  vitality. 
He  evidently  approaches  her  with  no  dissembling  coyness,  but  as  a frank  and 
honest  lover  whose  very  address  wins  a response,  by  virtue  of  appreciative 
hardihood  ; the  absolute  reverse  of  a dilettante  mood,  the  positive  grasp 
and  greeting  of  a master  guides  his  hand,  and  whatever  fault  may  be  dis- 
covered in  the  result,  it  is  not  in  want  of  scope  and  boldness.  What 
composers  call  the  theme,  and  artists  the  general  effeCt,  and  what  is,  in 
fact,  the  complete  expression  and  impression  of  a scene  as  it  strikes  the 
eye  and  mind  in  its  unity,  he  often  eaves  with  the  most  felicitous  and  faith- 
ful skill. 

In  boyhood,  the  scenery  of  the  Yoghiogany,  the  Monongahela,  the  Ohio, 
and  Juniata,  was  a familiar  delight  and  study  ; while  in  youth  and  maturity, 
the  shores  of  the  Delaware,  the  Schuylkill,  and  the  Wissahiccon,  have  been 
favorite  haunts  and  cherished  subjects.  The  cultivated  and  wealthy  den- 
izens of  Pennsylvania,  to  whom  her  scenery  is  a source  of  local  pride  and 
pleasure,  have  long  and  thoroughly  appreciated  these  admirable  illustrations 
thereof ; they  are  in  great  demand  as  household  treasures  as  well  as  ar- 
tistic gems. 

William  Russell  Smith,  when  but  seven  years  of  age,  accompanied 
his  family  to  Pennsylvania,  where  they  emigrated  from  Scotland  ; they  were 
finally  established  at  Pittsburgh,  Pa.  ; the  father  was  an  ingenious  mechanic, 
excelling  in  the  manufacture  of  cutlery,  artist’s  tools,  and  mathematical  in- 
struments : from  him  the  artist  doubtless  inherited  somewhat  of  the  skilful 
aptitudes,  frugal  and  modest  tastes,  and  Scotch  probity  which  belong  to  his 
character  ; while  an  impulse  and  direction  to  his  intellectual  tendencies  was 
subsequently  given  by  the  society  of  his  maternal  uncle,  William  Russell, 


520 


American  Artist  Life. 


so  well  known  and  highly  esteemed  in  New  England,  for  his  successful 
labors  in  the  cause  of  elocutionary  art  and  popular  education.  His  father’s 
workshop  and  the  scenery  of  the  Ohio  were  no  inadequate  school  for 
the  boy’s  development ; and  one  is  reminded  of  the  early  experience  of 
Powers  by  Russell  Smith’s  apprenticeship  to  Mr.  Lamdin,  then  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  Pittsburg  Museum,  and  now  a successful  portrait-painter  of 
Philadelphia.  While  thus  engaged  he  regularly  practised  drawing,  and  im- 
proved a natural  taste  for  art ; while,  as  volunteer  scene-painter  to  a so- 
ciety of  juvenile  aclors,  he  gained  some  insight  and  practice  in  the  use  of 
colors.  Indeed,  his  talent  for  this  kind  of  work  was  so  apparent  that,  a few 
years  later,  it  led  to  his  engagement  by  Mr.  Wemyss,  the  manager  of  the 
Pittsburg  theatre,  as  scene-painter,  wherein  his  efforts  were  so  original  and 
brilliant  that  his  employer  soon  transferred  him  to  Philadelphia,  where  he 
gained  the  highest  honors  of  the  scenic  artist,  in  the  palmy  days  of  the 
Walnut-street  theatre.  Lucrative  as  this  branch  of  art  then  proved,  and 
capable,  as  it  was  shown  to.be  in  his  hands,  of  high  and  ingenious  effects, 
the  reputation  thus  achieved  was  not  confined  to  the  theatre  ; his  skill  was 
in  requisition  as  a scientific  illustrator  ; and  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  with  other 
eminent  lecturers,  availed  themselves  of  his  facility  and  felicity  of  execu- 
tion. For  several  years,  and  in  various  cities,  his  brilliant  and  attractive 
designs  in  distemper  coloring  were  in  constant  demand,  especially  to  illus- 
trate melodramatic  subjects  ; several  popular  plays  of  a classic  kind  afforded 
him  scope  for  the  higher  and  more  graceful  exhibition  of  scenic  art  ; but, 
in  the  mean  time,  he  became  more  and  more  interested  in  and  devoted  to 
local  scenery.  “ The  freedom  of  hand  and  magnificent  breadth  of  style,” 
writes  one  who  knew  him  well,  “which  he  derived  from  his  extensive  prac- 
tice on  the  large  scale  required  by  scene-painting,  stamped  his  more  elab- 
orate and  highly  finished  works  in  oil  with  a corresponding  freedom  and 
grandeur,  seldom  attained  by  those  votaries  of  art  who  devote  themselves, 
through  life,  to  the  expression  of  minute  and  close  details,  and  carry  fidel- 
ity to  the  extent  of  mere  servile  and  elaborate  copying.  Everything  from 
his  hand,  in  whatever  department  of  art,  breathed  of  fresh  open  air,  sun- 
light, or  impalpable  shadow.  His  forte  lay  in  the  presentation  of  rock,  and 
stream,  and  forest,  such  as  he  saw  them  in  the  days  of  his  boyhood  or  in 
maturer  years,  in  Ohio  and  Pennsylvania  : liberal  patrons  of  art  attested 
the  originality  and  the  power  of  his  style,  as  well  as  its  truthful  devotion  to 
nature.” 

Having  by  systematic  industry  acquired  the  means  to  retire  from  the  less 
congenial  labors  of  art  and  life  of  cities,  Russell  Smith  married,  and  fixed 
his  abode  in  the  country  : his  wife  not  only  sympathized  in  his  pursuits  but 
possessed  decided  artistic  talent  ; and  her  husband,  in  a beautiful  rural 
home  within  a few  miles  of  Philadelphia,  devoted  himself  to  landscape  art. 
Several  years  elapsed  ; and  his  children  inheriting  the  taste  of  their  parents, 
the  artist  disposed  of  his  cottage,  and  took  his  family  to  Europe  on  a tour 
of  studious  observation.  We  have  had  more  than  one  pleasant  glimpse  of 
their  sojourn  abroad  from  returned  American  travellers,  by  whom  they 


L andscape-P 'ainters . 


S2i 

were  accidentally  encountered  amid  the  magnificent  scenery  of  Switzerland 
— all  happily  occupied  in  drawing  from  nature  : many  of  the  fruits  of  their 
sketching  excursions  were  admired  and  purchased  by  English  travellers. 
The  artist’s  son,  Xanthus,  has  already  exhibited  much  of  his  father’s  genius 
for  landscape,  and  has  achieved  no  ordinary  degree  of  success  in  his  pro- 
fession as  an  artist ; while  the  daughter  is  no  less  remarkable  for  grace, 
fidelity,  and  skill  in  the  delineation  of  the  feathered  tribe — her  special 
branch.  On  their  return  to  the  United  States,  they  took  up  their  residence 
in  the  vicinity  of  Jenkintown,  Montgomery  county,  Pennsylvania,  a region 
abounding  in  picturesque  scenery  ; and,  in  this  beautiful  and  sequestered 
home,  the  family  have  for  some  years  continued  to  devote  themselves  with 
rare  singleness  of  purpose,  and  modest  contentment,  to  their  respective 
branches  of  art. 

J.  W.  Casilear,  like  Durand  and  Kensett,  graduated  from  the  engraver’s 
discipline  to  the  landscape-artist’s  more  genial  vocation.  In  his  case,  how- 
ever, the  former  occupation  was  followed  for  many  years, 
with  eminent  success  and  prosperous  results.  The  only  Casilear. 
support  of  a widowed  mother  and  several  brothers  and 
sisters,  he  labored  with  assiduous  skill,  and  became  interested  in  the  Amer- 
ican Bank-Note  Company,  in  whose  employ  he  long  wrought ; and  acquired 
a handsome  competence.  He  went  abroad,  and  studied  in  company  with 
Edmonds  and  Durand.  The  latter  artist  and  Cole  initiated  him  into  the 
technical  process  of  landscape  art : his  bank-note  designs  had  a light  and 
graceful  effeCt ; and  his  engraving  of  Huntington’s  (l  Sybil,”  published  by  the 
American  Art-Union,  was  a notable  triumph  of  the  burin  ; it  has  a sharp- 
ness and  decision  of  line  worthy  of  the  celebrated  old  engravers.  At  a 
comparatively  mature  period  of  life,  Casilear  felt  himself  free  to  engage  in 
the  pursuit  he  loved  ; and,  having  visited  Europe,  made  frequent  summer 
excursions  at  home,  in  one  of  which  he  lately  found  a congenial  life-com- 
panion among  the  mountains  of  Vermont.  He  opened  the  studio  of  a land- 
scape artist  in  New  York  several  years  since.  The  refititude  of  his  char- 
acter and  the  refined  accuracy  of  his  original  profession  are  exhibited  in 
his  pictures.  They  are  finished  with  great  care,  and  the  subjects  chosen 
with  fastidious  taste  ; the  habit  of  dealing  striCtly  with  form,  gives  a curious 
correctness  to  the  details  of  his  work  ; there  is  nothing  dashing,  daring, 
or  off-hand  ; all  is  correct,  delicate,  and  indicative  of  a sincere  feeling  for 
truth,  both  executive  and  moral ; not  so  much  a passion  for  beauty  as  a 
love  of  elegance,  is  manifest ; the  precise,  the  firm,  and  the  graceful  traits 
of  artistic  skill,  belong  to  Casilear.  He  excels  in  lake  scenes  and  Alpine 
peaks. 

One  of  his  most  congenial  and  successful  American  subjects  is  Lake 
George.  The  immediate  foreground  is  a rocky  promontory,  looking  down 
upon  the  lake,  studded  with  huge  boulders,  and  a group  of  white  birch  trees 
leaning  over  the  water.  The  glassy  surface  of  the  lake,  its  smoothness 
disturbed  only  by  the  ripples  caused  by  leaping  trout,  spreads  beyond  and 
across  to  the  opposite  hills.  A small  boat,  propelled  by  one  person,  leaves 


522 


American  Artis l Life. 


a slender  wake  behind  it.  A few  light  clouds  hover  above  the  hill-tops, 
and  summer’s  peace  seems  to  pervade  the  scene. 

Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  owns  one  of  Casilear’s  Lake 
George  landscapes  ; R.  L.  Stuart,  Esq.,  another  lake  scene  ; G.  W.  Riggs, 
Esq.,  of  Washington,  a characteristic  landscape  ; and  R.  M.  Olyphant, 
Esq.,  a “ Swiss  Lake,”  “ Swiss  Scenery,”  and  “The  Four  Seasons.” 

There  is  a remarkable  evenness  in  the  landscapes  of  Casilear,  who  is  a 
patient  worker ; there  is  a finish  and  completeness  in  his  best  pictures 
which  equally  indicate  conscientiousness  and  good  taste.  As  an  illustra- 
tion, we  recall  an  Alpine  lake  with  a group  of  Swiss  mountains  reflecting 
the  setting  sun  ; and  another  called  “June,”  wherein  the  luminous  sky, 
the  cheerful  aspeCt,  the  fine  perspective,  and  feeling  of  space,  combine  to 
please.  Casilear  excels  in  water  scenes  ; his  foregrounds  are  often  beauti- 
fully elaborate  ; a pure  light,  and  neat  outline,  and  distinCt  grace  or  gran- 
deur, mark  the  works  of  this  faithful  and  accomplished  artist.  Casilear  has 
been  one  of  the  most  efficient  officers  of  the  Artists’  Fund  Society  since  its 
institution. 

The  careful  observer  of  landscape  art,  will  often  enjoy 
Hubbard.  an  agreeable  surprise  in  discovering,  amid  more  preten- 
tious works,  gems  of  quiet  beauty  wherein  some  of  the 
least  obtrusive  but  most  winsome  effeCts  of  nature,  have  been  tenderly 
conserved.  They  create  a feeling  akin  to  that  with  which,  in  a calm  and 
sensitive  mood,  we  light  upon  some  little  poem  in  a favorite  author,  previ- 
ously negleCted,  and  find  therein  a meaning  and  a beauty  hitherto  undreamed 
of ; or  it  may  be  they  awaken  the  calm  delight  which  steals  over  the  heart 
from  Nature  herself,  when  a familiar  scene  is  all  at  once  clothed  with  new 
charms  by  the  felicitous  light  and  shade  in  which  it  is  temporarily  seen,  or 
the  more  appreciative  state  of  feeling  wherewith  it  assimilates.  The 
method  by  which  this  latent  interest  is  developed  in  landscape  is  in  a great 
degree  scientific,  but  not  unfrequently  it  may  be  traced  to  a certain  refine- 
ment of  sentiment  or  special  artistic  sympathy.  It  implies  reCtitude  and 
feeling  rather  than  great  power  ; but  however  limited,  it  is  genuine,  and 
therefore  singularly  interesting.  Among  the  modest  aspirants  of  this  class, 
few  have  contributed  more  beautiful  illustrations  of  native  landscape  than 
R.  W.  Hubbard.  The  absence  of  affeCfcation  alone  would  win  to  his  best 
pictures  a kindly  eye  ; and  then,  by  degrees,  it  is  discovered  that  a remark- 
able harmony  of  tone,  conscientious  devotion  to  truth,  simplicity  of  aim, 
and  a quiet  but  serious  feeling,  combine  to  claim  attention  and  excite  inter- 
est. As  we  pass  by  or  overlook,  in  a gay  assembly,  those  whose  manners, 
dress,  and  physiognomy  are  subdued  and  unemphatic,  until  a look,  word, 
or  action  gives  us  a clew  to  character,  so  one  is  apt  only  by  degrees,  or 
accidentally,  to  recognize  the  more  quiet  yet  universal  and  significant  charms 
of  nature  and  their  reflection  in  art.  The  repose  of  Hubbard’s  landscapes 
and  those  of  kindred  spirit,  appeal  mainly  to  the  contemplative  and  patient, 
we  had  almost  said  pensive,  observer.  Their  tone  is  usually  subdued,  their 
beauty  poetic  ; occasionally  the  effebts  are  exquisite  ; they  may  lack  bold- 


Landscape-Pa  inters . 


523 


ness  and  vigor,  but  rarely  meaning  and  grace,  and  as  a class,  they  have 
a distinct  and  auspicious  place  and  influence,  and  are  related  to  the  gentler, 
more  thoughtful  and  dreamy  impressions  we  derive  from  nature,  whose 
agency  Wordsworth  so  delighted  to  advocate  and  illustrate. 

Hubbard  works  slowly  ; he  loves  to  elaborate  his  subject  by  fond  degrees; 
and  sometimes  lessens  the  first  success  by  repeated  emendations  or  modifi- 
cations. A native  of  Middletown,  Ct.,  and  a member  of  that  large  family 
of  the  same  name  so  prominent  in  public  life  from  the  colonial  era  to  the 
present  day,  in  boyhood  he  used  to  gaze  with  admiration  on  a fine  print 
from  Claude  which,  with  a harpsichord  and  other  modest  tokens  of  artis- 
tic taste,  embellished  the  dwelling  of  one  of  his  relatives.  Thus  early  im- 
pressed with  a phase  of  culture  not  common  then  and  there,  his  mind  was 
first  opened  to  the  significance  of  nature  by  Virgil,  the  first  academic  book 
he  really  enjoyed  ; so  that  the  time  came  when  the  beauty  of  the  universe 
was  revealed,  as  it  were,  freshly  to  his  senses  and  his  soul,  and  the  desire 
and  determination  to  represent  and  interpret  it  in  landscape  art  became 
a purpose  and  a passion.  Lake  George,  Lake  Dunmore,  and  the  Con- 
necticut river  have  been  the  favorite  scenes  of  his  summer  and  autumn 
studies.  It  has  been  well  said  of  him  that  he  paints  few  pictures,  but  never 
paints  badly.  One  of  his  characteristic  works  is  a small  picture  of  a moun- 
tain lake  and  distant  river,  over  which  a clouded  sky  has  cast  a broad,  almost 
saddening,  shadow  : his  “Showery  Day,  Lake  George,”  belongs  to  Mr. 
Olyphant,  of  Nem  York  ; and  Mr.  Riggs,  of  Washington,  D.  C.,  has  one  of 
his  fine  landscapes  : indeed  they  are  to  be  found  in  all  choice  collections 
of  native  art,  and  there  is  one  always  on  his  easel,  usually  chosen  from  his 
sketches,  to  be  carefully  elaborated  for  one  of  his  tasteful  circle  of  admirers. 

Whoever  has  haunted  the  Connecticut  river  near  Newbury,  New  Hamp- 
shire, must  have  noticed,  with  admiration,  a beautiful,  broad  bend  of  the 
stream,  with  a flat,  wooded  promontory  running  out  into  the  water,  and  a 
fine  mountain  height  for  a background  ; imagine  this  scene  on  a beautiful 
autumn  day — the  water  placid  as  a mirror  and  reflecting  cloud,  tree,  and 
skiff — the  woods  clustered  on  the  picturesque  tongue  of  land,  radiant  with 
the  crimson,  topaz,  and  purple  hues  of  the  frost-kindled  leaves — and  you 
have  an  inadequate  but  not  incorrect  idea  of  one  of  the  beautiful  landscapes 
of  Hubbard,  which,  besides  its  truthful  character  and  its  singularly  native 
zest,  is  instinct  with  that  quiet  and  sincere  feeling  for  nature  so  peculiar 
to  this  modest  and  faithful  artist. 

Sometimes  what  is  called  a cloud-broken  sky  suffused  with  light,  some- 
times the  bright  picturesqueness  of  early  autumn,  and,  again,  the  cool,  placid 
nook  of  a woodland  stream,  form  the  salient  points  of  the  scene.  The  tone 
is  often  silvery  and  soft ; one  can  tell  not  only  the  season,  but  the  month 
and  the  kind  of  day  wherein  the  artist  sketched  from  nature,  the  place 
thus  reproduced.  “ Mansfield  Mountain  at  Sundown  ” is  a good  illustration 
of  Hubbard’s  peculiar  ability;  and  in  small,  carefully  studied,  soft-toned 
bits  of  wood,  glimpses  of  mountain,  lake,  and  stream,  he  proves  himself  a 
loving,  true,  and  earnest  art-student. 


524  American  Artist  Life. 

The  other  extreme  of  this  skill  in  general,  and  especially  atmospheric 
effeCts,  is  exhibited  by  those  of  our  landscape-painters  who,  in  the  mi- 
nuteness of  their  limning,  carryout  in  practice  the  extreme 
w.  T.  Richards,  theory  of  the  Pre-Raphaelites.  The  most  remarkable  in- 
stance thereof  is  found  is  the  landscapes  of  W.  T.  Rich- 
ards, of  Philadelphia.  So  carefully  finished  in  some  of  them  are  the 
leaves,  grasses,  grain-stalks,  weeds,  stones,  and  flowers,  that  we  seem  not 
to  be  looking  at  a distant  prospeCt,  but  lying  on  the  ground  with  herbage 
and  blossom  direCtly  under  our  eyes.  Marvellous  in  accurate  imitation 
are  the  separate  objeCts  in  the  foreground  of  these  pictures  : the  golden 
rod  seems  to  wave,  and  the  blackberry  to  glisten  ; but  the  relative  finish 
of  the  foreground,  centre,  and  background  is  not  always  harmonious  ; 
there  is  little  perspective  illusion  ; what  is  gained  in  accuracy  of  details 
seems  lost  in  aerial  gradation  and  distances.  Though  for  miracles  of 
special  study  these  works  are  interesting,  even  while  enjoying  the  per- 
fection of  the  minutiae,  we  cannot  but  question  the  principle  upon  which 
they  are  executed,  and  doubt  the  ultimate  triumph  of  a literalness  so 
purely  imitative.  Yet,  as  studies  from  nature,  they  are  curious  and  inter- 
esting ; and  such  power  for  reproducing  the  details,  added  to  an  equal 
grasp  of  general  effeCt,  equips  a landscape-painter  for  the  most  authentic 
work.  Some  of  the  elaborate  pictures  of  Richards  thus  contribute  signally 
to  the  remarkable  variety  of  style  and  individuality  of  manner  which  is  so 
desirable  a trait  of  our  American  school. 

T.  Addison  Richards,  the  faithful  and  esteemed  Secretary  of  the  Na- 
tional Academy,  is  a native  of  Carolina,  and  knows  her  live-oaks,  streams, 
and  evergreens  by  heart ; and  has  given  excellent  proof 
T.  A.  Richards,  of  his  appreciation  of  nature  in  her  most  picturesque 
American  forms,  by  the  articles  written  and  illustrated  by 
him  in  Harper’s  Magazine.  Lake  George,  the  Juniata  River,  and  Vermont 
mountains,  have  been  favorite  subjeCts  with  him.  He  is  thoroughly  aware 
of  the  scenic  phases  of  the  different  States  of  the  Union,  having  passed 
many  summers  in  sketching  their  respective  features,  and  collecting  a large 
number  of  studies,  some  of  mountain  ridges,  some  of  patches  of  wood- 
land, and  some  of  forest  streams,  and  others  of  the  details  of  landscape, 
plants,  stones,  and  individual  trees. 

If  we  were  to  select  one  of  our  landscape-painters  as  an  example  of 
artistic  intelligence — by  which  we  mean  the  power  of  knowledge  in  the  use 
of  means,  the  choice  of  subjeCts,  and  the  wise  direction  of 
Gifford.  executive  skill — we  should  confidently  designate  Sanford 
R.  Gifford.  His  best  pictures  can  be  not  merely  seen  but 
contemplated  with  entire  satisfaction  ; they  indicate  a capacity  based  upon 
genuine  principles  ; their  effeCt  is  the  reverse  of  sensational ; their  sub- 
jects are  often  destitute  of  exceptional  piCturesqueness,  but  selected  simply 
because  they  include  average  and  suggestive  traits,  normal  aspeCts,  recog- 
nized and  familiar  charms.  Sometimes  Gifford’s  landscapes  exhibit  an 
executive  skill,  a judicious  treatment — an  harmonious  effeCt  and  impression, 


Landscape-Painters . 


525 


which  can  only  result  from  conscientious  fidelity  to  truth  in  art : they  do 
not  dazzle,  they  win  ; they  appeal  to  our  calm  and  thoughtful  appreciation  ; 
they  minister  to  our  most  gentle  and  gracious  sympathies,  to  our  most 
tranquil  and  congenial  observation. 

Born  in  Saratoga  county,  N.  Y.,  his  boyhood  and  youth  were  passed  at 
Hudson,  where  his  father  is  the  proprietor  of  extensive  iron-works.  He 
learned  perspective  and  other  technical  elements  of  painting  from  the  ven- 
erable John  R.  Smith,  in  New  York  ; the  father  of  this  early  teacher  was 
a celebrated  engraver  in  London,  and  the  son  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  artists  who  illustrated  Boyd  ell’s  Shakespeare,  and  had  a fund  of  anec- 
dotes and  artistic  personalities,  wherewith  to  beguile  and  stimulate  his 
pupils. 

Gifford  went  abroad  and  visited  the  most  celebrated  ateliers  in  Paris, 
London,  and  elsewhere  in  Europe  ; but  found  that  they  offered  no  special 
advantages  for  the  study  of  the  branch  of  art  to  which  he  inclined.  Like 
his  confreres  of  the  American  school  he  soon  realized  the  conviction  that, 
having  acquired  technical  skill  and  manual  dexterity,  the  landscape-painter 
must  go  direCtly  to  nature,  both  for  discipline  and  inspiration.  He  col- 
lected many  interesting  and  genuine  studies  abroad,  some  of  which  he 
carefully  and  laboriously  elaborated  ; and,  returning  home,  devoted  his 
summers  to  sketching  from  nature,  and  his  winters  to  working  up  the  re- 
sults thereof,  with  a patience,  a truth,  and  consistent  progress  and  power, 
which  have  established  his  fame  and  endeared  his  pencil.  It  is  difficult  to 
give  the  preference  to  any  one  of  the  class  of  subjects  Gifford  has  memora- 
bly illustrated ; whether  a mountain  gorge  in  summer,  a rocky  coast  scene 
on  the  Atlantic,  or  an  inland  meadow  and  forest  scene — each  has  a familiar 
attraction  and  an  artistic  beauty  and  truth  at  once  impressive  and  winsome. 
He  is  a noble  interpreter  of  American  scenery,  a master  of  his  art : 
whether  delineating  the  brooding  shadow  of  an  impending  thunder-storm — 
so  grand  in  its  shadowy  gloom  that  it  won  the  heart  of  the  best  living 
representative  of  Shakespeare’s  Hamlet ; or  portraying  a promontory  of 
Cape  Ann,  with  its  lofty  rock,  its  combing  waves,  strip  of  glistening  sand, 
and  cavernous  base — so  vividly  real  in  hue,  form,  and  atmosphere  ; or 
photographing  in  color  a foggy  day  in  early  autumn  on  the  Bronx  river, 
with  its  pale  sunlight,  leafless  trees,  and  still  water— cathedral-like  in  its 
dim  and  pensive  impressiveness  ; or,  more  masterly  still,  depicting  only 
sea  and  sky  as  they  appear  at  sunrise  from  the  low  shores  of  New  Jersey  at 
Long  Branch,  with  no  accessories — bare,  solitary,  vast,  elemental  nature — 
with  such  truth  in  wave  and  air,  in  strand  and  horizon,  in  light  and  perspec- 
tive as  to  captivate  the  eye,  as  the  lone  sea-shore  itself  does  in  its  sublime 
reality. 

Gifford’s  “ Coming  Storm”  is  owned  by  Edwin  Booth,  and  a similar 
picture  by  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; “ Quebec  ” and  a land- 
scape are  in  the  collection  of  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq. ; the  “ Camp  of 
the  Seventh  Regiment”  and  “ Twilight  in  the  Wilderness  ” in  that  of  R. 
M.  Olyphant,  Esq.;  “On  the  Hudson,”  “Coming  Rain,”  and  “First 


526 


American  Artist  Life. 


Skating  of  the  Season,”  belonged  to  the  Wright  collection,  and  brought 
large  prices  at  the  sale  thereof ; a fine  “Autumn  Scene  ” is  in  the  posses- 
sion of  G.  R.  McVickars,  Esq.,  of  Baltimore,  Md. ; “ Mount  Washington  ” 
belongs  to  R.  H.  Manning,  Esq.,  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I. ; and  “ Schoharie 
Kill”  to  Mr.  Stephenson  ; his  attractive  marine — “Waves  breaking  on  the 
Beach  at  Early  Dawn  ” — is  owned  by  R.  M.  Hoe,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  To 
realize  the  steady  and  intelligent  progress  of  this  artist,  it  is  only  requisite 
to  compare  one  of  his  earliest  attempts — a sketch  of  the  Palisades,  in  the 
possession  of  the  Rowley  family,  at  Hastings  on  the  Hudson,  from  whose 
piazza  it  was  taken — with  the  mature  efforts  which  may  now  be  seen  at  his 
studio.  “ One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  this  artist’s  pictures  is  a view  of 
beach  and  shore,  encircling  a broad,  deep  lake,  that  winds  away  from  the 
foreground  to  a hut  standing  on  the  edge  of  a forest,  which  stretches  off  to 
the  distant  mountains,  and  is  lost  in  the  rosy  drifts  of  clouds,  which,  just 
quickened  into  life  and  motion  by  the  rising  sun,  are  creeping  up  the  cliffs, 
out  of  the  woods,  out  of  rain  and  valley,  into  the  pure  blue  ether.  Mr. 
Gifford  calls  this  picture  * Morning  in  the  Mountains,’  and  it  is  full  of  the 
tenderness  and  grandeur  such  a scene.” 

Few  of  our  landscape-painters  have  been  more  direCtly  influenced  in  their 
artistic  development  by  the  example  of  Cole,  than  Gifford.  It  was  the  sight 
of  his  pictures  which  kindled  the  sympathy  and  emulation  of  the  painter’s 
instinct  in  the  heart  of  his  youthful  neighbor  ; for  Gifford  was  bred,  and 
still  passes  his  holidays,  within  constant  sight  of  the  grand  old  mountains 
at  whose  feet,  lived,  for  many  years,  our  benign  pioneer  in  landscape  art. 
It  was  because  Nature,  in  Cole’s  pictures,  looked  to  Gifford  as  she  herself 
appeared  to  him,  awakening  kindred  sensations  and  sentiments,  that  he 
recognized  a master-spirit  in  the  artist,  and  one  congenial  to  his  own. 

Gifford  has  lived  so  much  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  Catskills  that, 
faithful  limner  as  he  is,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  has  mastered  some  of 
the  most  difficult  and  desirable  requisites  of  mountain  scenery ; one  rec- 
ognizes in  his  best  studies  a remarkably  true  representation  of  the  gradual 
rise  and  fall,  the  successive  grades  and  the  apparent  distances  in  the  sum- 
mits, gorges,  slopes,  and  swells  ; local  effeCts  which  have  so  much  to  do 
with  the  impression  that  awes  and  pleases  the  spectator  at  the  same  time  ; 
and  yet  which  are  so  rarely  effective  in  a picture.  This  trait  of  Gifford’s 
landscapes  has  won  for  them  a class  of  warm  admirers  who  discover  a 
subtle  charm  therein  that  more  than  compensates  for  the  less  highly-finished 
details  which  is  the  distinctive  merit  of  so  many  of  our  artists.  Gifford 
has  also  been  successful  in  the  experiment,  which,  of  late,  has  been  tried 
by  several  American  landscape-painters,  to  reproduce  the  effeCts  of  a misty 
atmosphere  so  often  witnessed  by  summer  travellers  among  the  mountains  ; 
when  the  thick  vapor  which  sometimes,  at  early  morning,  shrouds  their 
lofty  summits  from  view,  is  partially  dissolved  by  the  sun,  the  thinned 
fleecy  moisture  expands,  and  dings  in  half-dense,  half-luminous  wreaths, 
along  the  forest-clad  hill-sides  ; the  effeCt  is  often  most  beautiful,  as  open 
glade,  or  dark  ridge,  or  piny  gorge  reflects  the  light  and  shade.  Two  re- 


L andsecipe-Painters. 


52; 


markable  instances  of  Gifford’s  skill  and  feeling,  in  this  special  phase  of 
mountain  scenery,  are  his  “ Mansfield  Mountain  ” and  “ Catskill  Clove  ; ” 
the  latter  is  a deep  gorge,  tufted  with  trees  and  thickets  ; its  proportions 
and  profundity  are  made  wonderfully  sensible  to  the  eye,  and  over  them 
broods  a flood  of  that  peculiar  yellow  light  born  of  mist  and  sunshine. 
The  individual  trees  and  the  local  geology  of  the  region  have  been  more 
effectively  rendered  as  regards  fidelity  in  detail ; but  the  general  effeCt  is 
grand,  true,  and  singularly  attractive  to  the  imagination  ; the  artist  has 
caught  the  very  tint  and  tone  of  the  hour,  and  bathed  this  sublime  gorge 
therewith,  so  that,  like  a suggestive  and  emphatic  expression  in  a poem, 
the  key-note  of  a boundless  scene  is  struck — the  associations  of  a vast  moun- 
tain range  pensively  glorified  by  the  dying  day,  are  awakened  by  this  splen- 
did revelation  of  one  characteristic  feature  thereof. 

There  hung,  for  many  months,  on  the  wall  of  Gifford’s  studio,  a little 
sketch  representing  a bastion — cannon  and  tall  sentinel  in  dark  relief  against 
a crimson  horizon,  between  which  and  the  parapet  rose  the  spires  of  a 
city.  It  reminded  the  artist’s  friends  of  the  patriotism  he  repeatedly  ex- 
hibited as  a member  of  the  Seventh  Regiment  of  New  York,  in  hastening 
to  the  scene  of  war,  when  an  exigency  occurred  ; the  sketch  represented 
Federal  Hill,  where,  for  months,  he  and  his  comrades  stood  guard  over  the 
recusant  city  of  Baltimore.  Gifford  has  a true  eye  for  atmospheric  effeCts  ; 
a picture  of  his  called  “The  Wilderness,”  and  another,  “ The  Coming  Rain,” 
will  bear  critical  study  in  this  regard  : there  is  a scope,  a masterly  treat- 
ment of  light  and  shade,  full  of  reality  and  often  poetically  suggestive,  as  in 
nature  and  perspective  ; while  ridge,  hollow,  precipice,  glen,  and  summit 
in  the  mountains  are  divided  by  a seeming  space  which  is  one  of  the  most 
subtle  illusions  of  the  art. 

More  vigorous  and  suggestive,  but  less  equable,  are  the  landscapes  of 
George  Inness,  some  of  which  are  among  the  most  remarkable  works  of 
the  kind  produced  among  us.  Inness,  in  his  best  moods, 
is  effective  through  his  freedom  and  boldness,  whereby  he  Inness. 
often  grasps  the  truth  with  refreshing  power ; sometimes 
this  manner  overleaps  the  modesty  of  nature,  and  license  takes  the  place  of 
freedom;  somewhat  too  much  of  the  French  style  is  often  complained  of 
as  vitiating  the  legitimate  individuality  of  this  artist ; and  there  is  in  him, 
as  in  so  many  of  his  peers,  a provoking  want  of  sustained  excellence,  a 
spasmodic  rather  than  a consistent  merit.  He  paints,  at  times,  with  haste 
and  carelessness  ; he  does  not  always  do  himself  justice.  Yet  rarely  do  we 
see  one  of  his  landscapes  without  finding  therein  a picturesque  effeCt,  or  a 
subtle  meaning,  indicative  of  the  rarest  skill  and  the  most  absolute  genius  ; 
if  limited  in  scope,  yet  aCtual  and  true. 

George  Inness  has  been  singularly  loyal  to  his  French  ideal  in  land- 
scape ; he  is  an  admirer  of  Rousseau,  and  reproduces  his  manner  per- 
fectly. There  is  great  strength  in  his  limning  of  trees,  great  effeCt  in  his 
treatment  of  light.  His  best  landscapes  have  the  mellow,  shadowy  tone  of 
the  old  world,  and  are  therefore  preferred  by  his  admirers  beyond  all 


S 2S 


American  Artist  Life. 


American  productions  of  the  kind.  It  may  be  questioned,  however, 
whether  it  is  not  truth  to  a phase,  skill  in  a sphere,  rather  than  an  eclectic 
ability  in  general  landscape  art,  which  has  established  his  fame.  For 
several  years  Innes  resided  near  Boston,  and  found  satisfactory  subjects 
for  his  pencil  in  his  immediate  vicinity.  There  is  an  evening  scene  which 
gives  a good  idea  of  his  characteristic  merits  : a meadow,  flanked  by  a 
thick  grove  of  old  oaks,  is  overshadowed  by  an  approaching  thunder-cloud  ; 
a farmer  is  trying  to  drive  a herd  of  swine  into  a paddock,  the  gate  of 
which  is  held  open  by  another  rustic  ; deep  is  the  shadow  ; a patch  of  blue 
sky  is  just  visible  through  the  massive  boughs  ; the  peculiar  faint,  yellow 
light  before  a summer  tempest,  fills  the  atmosphere  ; the  trees  are  magni- 
ficent in  their  solemn,  vigorous  beauty  ; there  is  nothing  conventional  ; 
all  is  real  and  simple,  strong  and  pensively  lighted.  It  is  a phase  of  na- 
ture we  have  all  seen  and  felt.  We  cannot  better  suggest  the  estimation 
in  which  the  best  efforts  of  this  artist  are  held  by  the  exclusive  votaries  of 
his  school,  than  by  quoting  an  elaborate  critical  eulogy  of  one  of  his  most 
characteristic  pastoral  landscapes,  by  one  of  his  most  enthusiastic  ad- 
mirers : — 

“ The  Sign  of  Promise  ” is  a generalization  of  the  scenery  of  our  East- 
tern  and  Middle  States  ; a heavy  thunder-storm  is  passing  off,  down  a 
broad  and  fertile  valley,  over  a bold,  steep  hill  or  mountain  on  the  right, 
while  the  darkling  vapor  clings  to  the  summit  and  rolls  upon  the  ridge  in 
angry  collision,  a clear  light  rifts  the  clouds,  and  a deep,  pure  azure  is 
seen  through  a parting  silvery  film,  the  last  hazy  veil  to  the  coming  sun- 
light, harbingered  by  the  rainbow,  which,  starting  from  the  base  of  the  val- 
ley, on  the  very  edge  of  the  retreating  rain,  rises  a short  way  till  it  is  lost 
in  tangled  shreds  of  cloud,  which,  on  the  left,  fiercely  rush  in  ragged  ranks 
from  the  brightening  scene.  Down  the  valley,  in  the  distance  sweeps  the 
heavy-descending  shower,  blue  and  purple,  with  the  faintly-penetrating  light. 

“ From  a road  upon  the  rising  hill,  in  the  immediate  foreground,  the  eye 
passes  over  a broad  harvest-field  with  reapers,  down  across  an  ample  lawn 
with  cattle,  to  a farm-house  and  barn  among  the  trees,  and  beyond,  to  a 
winding  river.  We  do  not  cross  the  river,  but  pass  directly  round  the  bend, 
by  green  fields,  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  on  the  right,  or  we  cross  di- 
reCtly,  and  are  lost  among  the  clustered  trees,  till  they,  too,  are  lost  in  the 
far-off  storm-mist.  This  is  a very  inadequate  description  of  an  entirely 
grand  scene.  The  storm,  especially,  is  a very  grand  conception,  powerfully 
rendered. 

“ Innes  is  well  known  among  our  artists  as  a leading  man.  It  would 
seem  to  be  a fundamental  tenet  with  him  that  the  means  of  the  painter  are 
not  adequate  to  express  the  full  brilliancy  of  nature.  Accordingly  he  must 
adopt  a simpler  standard,  strike  a lower  key  ; pictures  must  be  deductions 
from  nature,  so  to  speak — perfect  harmonies  on  a lower  scale.  Thus  Innes, 
working  within  his  means,  has  power  of  expression,  unity  of  effeCt,  while 
a fine  feeling,  rendered  with  the  firm  touch  and  clear  reality  which  his  true 
motive  and  true  method  allow,  makes  his  pictures  durably  impressive. 


Landscape-Painters. 


529 


“ The  Sign  of  Promise  ” is  a great  composition,  expressing  the  soul  of 
the  artist,  his  faith,  his  aspirations,  his  method.  It  is  his  religion,  pidtori- 
ally  professed,  and  preaches  reform  in  judgment  and  requirement  to  the  pub- 
lic. For  the  pidture  has  a moral  in  its  subjedt  and  a moral  in  its  treat- 
ment. It  expresses  hopefulness,  the  promise  of  good  ; it  implies  a divine 
purpose  in  the  fertilizing  shower,  the  genial  sunshine,  the  beautiful  and 
fruitful  valley,  and  in  the  combination  of  these  in  a grand  unity  surely  not 
unmeaning.  But  the  expression  and  effedt  are  due  to  the  treatment.  The 
artist  seeks  to  cover,  to  harmonize  details  with  the  central  idea  ; to  carry 
the  mind  from  the  objedtive  fadt  to  the  subjedtive  thought.  Thus  emphasis 
is  put  upon  no  specific  detail ; device  or  trick  for  effedt  is  scorned  ; forms 
suggest  ideas,  and  one  feels  rather  than  sees,  or  exclaims  rather,  ‘ How 
impressive  ! ’ than  ‘ How  pretty  ! ’ Loving  truth  more  than  himself,  the 
artist  has  restrained  the  least  tendency  to  particular  elaboration.  Now 
that  he  has  tried  himself  and  the  great  work  is  done — the  ideal  effedt  at- 
tained— he  may  add  some  artistic  touches  which  will  make  the  pidture  more 
warm  and  tender.” 

Passing  an  art-store  in  Broadway,  on  a warm  and  breezy  spring  day,  a 
glance  in  at  the  open  door  deluded  us  with  the  idea  that  we  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a meadow  on  the  Connedticut.  There  was  the  long  sweep  of 
green  plain,  the  lofty  and  graceful  cluster  of  elms  in  the  foreground,  the 
thick-set  field  of  ripe  grain,  the  reapers  here  and  there,  the  distant  hills  — 
all  glowing  in  the  sunshine,  so  real,  fresh,  palpable,  and  alive  to  the 
eye,  that  it  required  a second  thought  to  bring  home  the  fadt  that  we  were 
looking  on  a pidture  called  “ Peace  and  Plenty,”  by  George  Innes  ; truly 
a marvellous  and  magnificent  American  landscape. 

“Going  out  of  the  Woods,”  by  this  artist,  was  chosen  by  the  commit- 
tee to  send  to  the  Paris  Exhibition,  and  has  been  thus  described  : “ This 
pidture  is  one  of  those  magnificent  effects  of  sunlit  atmosphere  wherein 
Mr.  Innes  stands  unrivalled.  The  spedtator  is  looking  out  from  beneath 
the  shade  of  huge  forest  trees  into  the  shimmering,  maturing  sunlight. 
The  distant  horizon,  the  trees,  the  village  church  spire,  are  bathed  in  their 
golden  glory.  It  penetrates  into  the  mass  of  foliage  overhead  ; it  illu- 
minates the  long  avenues  of  oak  and  elm  ; it  spreads  its  crimson  mantle 
over  the  dewy  herbage  at  your  feet,  while  the  group  of  cattle  nipping  at 
the  fresh  green  grass  as  they  wander  toward  home,  seems  to  greet  its 
genial  rays. 

“ In  a freshness  of  color,  in  breadth  of  effedt,  in  a certain  grandeur  and 
dignity  of  treatment,  in  its  absolute  truth  to  a phase  of  nature  which  we 
all  love  to  see,  this  work  will  nobly  represent  our  American  school  of  land- 
scape-painting ; and  we  would  be  willing  to  hang  it  between  Troyon  and 
Rousseau,  and  court  the  comparison.” 

The  imaginative  freedom  of  Innes  has  led  him  to  allegorical  landscape 
— a branch  of  art  at  once  difficult  and  delicate,  for  it  presupposes  some 
poetical  sympathy  in  the  spedtator,  whereby  he  can  recognize  the  latent 
and  sublime  affinities  and  suggestions  of  scenery.  It  is  not  surprising, 

34 


530 


American  Artist  Life. 


therefore,  that  many  who  thoroughly  appreciate  one  of  Cole’s  genuine 
transcripts  from  nature,  fail  to  enjoy  thoroughly  his  “Voyage  of  Life,” 
“Course  of  Empire,”  and  “Cross  and  World;”  that  is,  the  pidturesque 
truth  is  felt,  but  the  meaning  of  the  artist  but  faintly  interpreted.  The 
subjects  of  George  Innes  are  still  more  vague  and  ideal ; “ Peace  and 
Plenty”  is  a simple  and  appropriate  designation;  but  the  “ Sign  of  Prom- 
ise ” and  “ A Vision  of  Faith  ” require  a poet  to  sympathize  with  the 
painter,  although  any  true  lover  of  nature  can  appreciate  them  as  land- 
scapes. This  suggestive  in  contrast  with  the  literal  aim  in  landscape,  has 
caused  a decided  partisan  tone  in  criticism  ; on  the  one  hand,  we  are  told 
that  painters  like  Church  are  scientific,  and  painters  like  Innes  soulful ; 
but  the  diversity  is  greatly  exaggerated  ; the  two  styles  often  approach 
each  other,  and  not  infrequently  mingle  in  the  same  work.  J.  J.  Jarves, 
author  of  the  “ Art  Idea,”  thus  eulogizes  the  “ Sign  of  Promise  ” : — 

“ This  picture  fulfils  its  title.  It  is  a sign  of  promise  to  art,  as  well  as 
to  the  artist’s  mind.  The  public  owe  much  to  it,  not  only  in  what  it  prom- 
ises, but  in  what  it  fulfils.  • Not  the  least  of  its  merits  is,  that  it  is  a living 
protest  against  the  popular  materialism  in  American  art,  which,  on  account 
of  the  cleverness  of  mechanical  execution  in  the  best  specimens  of  the 
school,  threatens  to  mislead  the  public  mind  as  to  the  higher  purposes  and 
meaning  of  art.  Innes’s  example,  therefore,  is  the  more  valuable,  based 
as  it  is  upon  the  higher  principles  of  art.  It  develops  the  faCt  from  the 
idea,  giving  the  preference  to  subjective  thought  over  the  objective  form 
of  its  fundamental  motive.  With  him  the  inspiring  idea  is  principal;  form 
secondary,  being  the  outgrowth  of  the  idea.  His  picture  illustrates  phases 
of  mind  and  feelings.  He  uses  nature’s  forms  simply  as  language  to  ex- 
press thought.  The  opposite  school  of  painters  are  content  with  clever 
imitation.  This  calls  for  no  loftier  tribute  than  admiration  of  scientific 
knowledge  or  dexterous  manipulation.  As  appeals  to  the  soul  these  works 
are  lifeless.  Being  of  things  that  perish  in  the  using,  they  can  never  be- 
come a ‘ joy  for  ever.’  ” 

“A  Vision  of  Faith — View  from  the  DeleCtable  Mountains,”  illustrates 
John  Bunyan’s  religious  allegory,  by  landscape  art : The  picture  repre- 
sents first,  on  the  left,  the  Pilgrims,  Christian  and  Hopeful,  on  the  moun- 
tain with  the  shepherds  and  their  flocks.  One  of  the  Pilgrims  is  looking 
with  an  eye  of  faith  through  the  perspective  glass  for  the  gates  of  the 
Celestial  City.  To  the  left  of  the  Pilgrims  is  the  home  of  the  shepherds. 
In  the  middle  distance  is  a lovely  valley,  magnificent  in  its  breadth,  and 
nestling  in  its  centre  is  a lake  ; while  far  in  the  dim  distance  are  the  snow- 
clad  mountains  which  intervene  between  the  Pilgrims  and  the  Celestial 
City.  The  picture  is  marvellous  in  perspective,  in  chaste  coloring,  and 
truthful  atmospheric  effeCts.  A companion  picture  is  entitled  “ The  Val- 
ley of  the  Shadow  of  Death,”  as  represented  by  the  Crucifixion. 

To  show  how  differently  allegorical  scenic  pictures  impress  different 
minds,  here  is  the  report  of  a professional  but  not  practical  critic  of  the 
work  last  mentioned  : — 


L a ndscape-Pa  in  ters . 


531 


“ ‘ The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  ’ is  a cheerful  place,  and  looks 
like  the  Grotto  of  Antiparos.  We  suppose  there  is  some  very  profound 
meaning  in  painting  the  valley  this  pretty  blue,  and  making  the  rock  in 
front  look  like  a man,  and  in  putting  a person  in  a white  sheet  in  a conspic- 
uous place  ; but  as  the  printed  description  does  not  tell  us  what  these 
things  mean,  and  as  we  are  not  very  good  at  understanding  allegories,  we 
give  it  up.” 

It  is  a trite  observation  that  people  look  at  nature  with  different  eyes  ; 
but,  in  regard  to  landscape  art,  it  is  apparent  that  the  impression  must 
depend  upon  the  habits  of  observation  and  the  degree  of  moral  sensibility 
of  the  spectator.  In  our  daily  walks  we  meet  with  many  who  seem  utterly 
insensible  to  the  language  of  scenery,  and  pass  noble  trees,  picturesque 
rocks,  exquisite  efifedts  of  color,  radiant  clouds,  and  all  the  phases  and  phe- 
nomena of  season  and  scene,  without  notice  or  sympathy.  How  absurd  to 
suppose  that  such  persons  can  enter  into,  or  even  recognize  the  significance 
of  landscape  art  ! Lovers  of  nature,  on  the  contrary,  find  something  to 
gratefully  admire  in  all  our  leading  scenic  limners  ; and,  among  them, 
George  Innes  has  his  full  share  of  traits  and  triumphs;  enamoured  as  he 
is,  or  has  been,  of  French  processes,  the  individuality  of  the  artist  is  not 
thereby  superseded.  A critic  has  said  of  him  : — 

“We  have  in  this  country  only  one  artist  who  may  be  compared  with 
Rousseau,  and  George  Innes,  for  it  is  he,  is  sometimes  accused  of  imitating 
the  great  Frenchman  ; but  a comparison  of  the  works  of  the  two  men  will 
show  that  Innes  does  not  imitate,  and  resembles  Rousseau  because  of  his 
profound  comprehension  of  those  grander,  subtler  laws  of  nature  which 
are  revealed  only  to  the  mind  of  genius.  It  is  such  pictures  as  these  which 
have  given  Rousseau  undisputed  supremacy  in  European  art.  It  was  a 
long  while  before  he  gained  the  high  position,  for  his  pidtures  were  refused 
the  Paris  Exhibition  until  very  lately  ; and  I mention  the  fadt  to  show, 
that  even  in  France  the  art-world  is  slow  to  acknowledge  great  genius.” 

In  a catalogue  of  pictures,  by  Inness,  offered  for  sale  last  year,  the 
subjects  include  scenes  in  the  Catskills,  and  near  Medfield,  Mass.,  Eagles- 
wood,  N.  J.,  and  on  Staten  Island,  at  the  Delaware  Water  Gap,  and  Charles 
River,  Mass.  ; while  with  these  familiar  regions  are  associated  generalized 
landscapes,  where  the  sentiment  rather  than  the  local  scene  gives  interest 
and  charm,  such  as  “ Cloudy  Day,”  “Grey  Twilight,”  “ Old  Homestead,” 
“ Evening,”  and  “Twilight.”  For  certain  elements  of  executive  skill,  and 
for  the  embodiment  and  illustration  of  the  sentiment  of  nature,  some  of  the 
works  of  this  artist  justify  the  highest  praise  of  his  admirers  ; while  the 
unequal  merit  of  his  productions,  and  their  ideal  tendency,  explain  the  other 
extreme  of  illiberal  criticism  of  which  they  have  been  the  subjedt. 

“ A Passing  Storm,”  by  this  artist,  belongs  to  C.  E.  Detmold,  Esq.  ; R. 
L.  Stuart,  Esq.,  has  one  of  his  earlier  landscapes  ; his  “ Summer  After- 
noon ” and  “Twilight”  belong  to  Rev.  H.  W.  Beecher,  and  his  “Light 
Triumphant”  to  Mrs.  Gibson;  “Sunshine  and  Shadow”  and  “Summer” 
were  in  the  Wright  colledtion  ; Mr.  Longworth,  of  Cincinnati,  has  a “ Moist 


532 


American  Artist  Life. 


Green  Level,  with  Trees.”  His  last  allegorical  series  is  “ The  Apocalyptic 
Vision  of  the  New  Jerusalem  and  River  of  Life  ; ” in  the  former  there  are 
points  of  great  natural  truth.  Some  of  the  most  intelligent  admirers  of 
I nnes  are  Boston  amateurs. 

George  Inness  was  born  at  Newburgh,  Orange  county,  N.  Y.,  on  the  ist 
of  May,  1825.  When  an  infant  he  was  removed  to  New  York,  and  thence, 
after  a few  years,  to  Newark,  N.  J.,  where  his  parents  established  their 
home.  As  early  as  the  age  of  thirteen  the  boy’s  love  of  drawing  was  such 
that  a master  was  allowed  him  ; he  was  an  old  gentleman  named  Baker  ; 
the  pupil  soon  learned  to  make  good  copies  in  oil  of  his  teacher’s  pictures  ; 
but,  at  this  time,  he  was  attacked  with  epilepsy,  to  which  painful  malady 
he  has  been  liable  ever  since,  to  the  great  detriment  of  consecutive  and 
sustained  artistic  work.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  Inness  went  to  New  York, 
and  attempted  to  learn  engraving  with  a view  of  making  it  a profession  ; 
but  ill-health  obliged  him  to  return  home,  where,  from  time  to  time,  he 
painted  and  sketched,  and,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  passed  a month  in  Gignoux’s 
studio,  and  then  fairly  embarked  in  landscape  art.  He  has  visited  Europe 
twice,  but  never  studied  with  any  one,  or  copied  a picture. 

Nearly  two  miles  back  of  Perth  Amboy,  in  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  is  a 
rural  hamlet,  bearing  the  pleasant  name  of  Eagleswood,  The  settlement 
consists  of  a large  and  elegant  stone  edifice,  at  present  occupied  as  a mili- 
tary school  ; a fine  mansion  ; the  residence  of  the  proprietor  of  the  broad 
acres  composing  the  hamlet,  and  also  the  residences  of  George  Inness  and 
William  McEwan,  artists.  In  the  grounds  there  is  a fine  studio  building, 
occupied  by  Win.  Page,  Wm.  McEwan,  and  E.  W.  Hall.  Inness  has  a finely 
constructed  studio  in  his  house,  and  there,  at  his  “ Eagleswood  Eyry,”  he 
conceives  and  produces  the  artistic  works  which  are  from  time  to  time  ex- 
hibited to  the  public  gaze. 

It  accords  with  the  imaginative  scope  and  spiritual  instinct  of  Inness, 
that  he  should  incline  to  the  dodtrines  of  Swedenborg  ; his  appearance, 
temperament,  and  charadter  belong  to  that  phase  of  artist-life  where  in- 
sight and  enthusiasm,  the  unpradtical  and  the  sensitive  elements,  predomi- 
nate. Inness  is,  as  we  have  said,  unequal  in  his  artistic  efforts,  but  he  is 
also  sometimes  unequalled  ; and  his  foreign  proclivities  and  his  suggestive 
method  offer  a not  undesirable  contrast  to  those  wherein  merely  imitative 
skill  and  local  fidelity  are  exhibited, — thus  adding  another  element  to  the 
delightful  variety  of  taste  and  talent  that  belongs  to  American  landscape 
art,  and  attests  its  honest  individuality. 

The  versatility  and  skill  in  landscape  Cropsey  has  acquired  were  mani- 
fested in  a memorable  degree,  when  his  pictures  and  sketches  which  had 
not  been  disposed  of,  were  exhibited  preparatory  to  a sale 
Cropsey.  that  took  place  just  before  he  embarked  for  England  in 
June,  1856,  with  the  intention  of  remaining  several  years  : 
the  sale  also  was  so  remunerative  as  to  afford  the  best  evidence  of  the  ex- 
tent of  his  popularity.  Besides  a remarkable  tadt  and  truth  in  color  and  a 
true  sense  of  the  pidturesque,  a moral  interest  was  frequently  imparted  to 


L ands  cape- Painters. 


533 


his  landscapes  by  their  historical  or  allegorical  significance,  in  which  as  in 
other  respedts  he  reminded  his  countrymen  of  Cole.  Some  of  his  most 
felicitous  compositions  have  been  repeated  in  chromo-lithographs,  which 
have  extended  a knowledge  of,  and  interest  in,  American  landscape  art. 
Among  his  most  characteristic  works  may  be  mentioned  the  “ Return  from 
Hawking,”  and  “ The  Olden  Time.”  He  has  effectively  illustrated  New 
Hampshire  scenery,  and  his  sky-studies  are  indicated  by  an  excellent 
paper  that  appeared  in  an  art  journal,  entitled  “ Up  among  the  Clouds.” 
A critic  of  much  discrimination  defines  the  peculiar  charm  of  one  of  his 
pictures  as  consisting  in  “a  certain  juicy  crispness  in  the  foliage,  mingled 
with  delicate  gray  and  purple  tints.” 

Cropsey  is  sometimes  careless  and  crude.  His  sense  of  beauty  and 
truth  in  nature  are  eloquently  apparent  in  his  best  efforts  ; but  his  executive 
power  seems  unequal,  which  is  probably  owing  to  the  inequality  of  work- 
ing moods  incident  to  irregular  health.  Many  leading  English  amateurs 
recognize  a genuine  force  and  felicity  in  his  most  elaborate  landscapes, 
especially  those  wherein  he  has  set  forth  with  fidelity  and  emphasis  the  ra- 
diant forests  of  the  American  autumn.  After  a residence  of  several  years  at 
Kensington,  near  London,  where  he  enjoyed  the  sympathy  of  many  English 
artists,  and  gained  several  eminent  friends,  Cropsey,  in  anticipation  of  a visit 
to  his  own  country,  to  which  he  returned  in  1863,  in  search  of  fresh  material, 
offered,  at  public  sale,  about  one  hundred  and  thirty  sketches,  studies,  and 
finished  landscapes,  which  produced  the  sum  of  twelve  hundred  guineas — 
no  inadequate  proof  of  his  foreign  reputation.  When  the  collection  was 
exposed  to  public  view  in  Pall  Mall,  the  London  Times  thus  referred  to  it ; 
and  perhaps  we  cannot  more  impartially  suggest  his  claims  as  a landscape- 
painter  than  by  adducing  testimony  which  is,  at  least,  disinterested,  and 
indicative  of  the  new  and  nobler  light  in  which  American  art  and  artists 
are  regarded  of  late  years  by  the  prominent  organs  of  public  opinion  in 
Great  Britain  : — 

“ It  is  interesting  not  only  from  the  intrinsic  merits  of  many  of  the  pic- 
tures, but  from  the  example  it  affords  of  the  gradual  growth  of  the  painter’s 
power,  under  the  influence  of  a constantly  widening  experience  of  nature, 
and  a knowledge  of  the  schools  of  this  country  and  the  continent.  It  is 
hardly  possible  that  a new  country  can  produce  a native  school  of  painters, 
unless  those  of  its  children  who  are  led  to  art  from  innate  bent  have  the 
opportunity,  of  which  Mr.  Cropsey  has  made  such  good  use,  of  studying 
art  as  well  as  nature  in  the  old  countries.  Among  the  most  valuable  works 
in  the  collection  are  many  studies  of  skies,  showing  true  and  delicate  ob- 
servation of  nature,  some  graceful  vignette  illustrations  of  English  and 
American  poets,  and  many  charming  little  landscapes  and  sea-side  studies 
in  England  and  Italy.  The  most  important  works  are  a large  pidfcure  of 
“ Catskill  Falls,  in  America,”  and  two  important  English  subjects,  Corfe 
Castle  (exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy  a few  years  ago),  and  the  painter’s 
latest  work,  “ Richmond  Hill  in  the  Summer  of  1862.” 

Jasper  Francis  Cropsey  was  born  on  Staten  Island,  near  Rossville,  on 


534 


American  Artist  Life. 


February  18,  1823,  of  poor  but  very  respectable  parents.  His  health  was 
very  delicate.  He  exhibited  from  childhood  a taste  for  art  and  mechanism. 
His  education  was  obtained  from  the  country  schools,  through  boyhood  ; 
and,  in  after  years,  by  self-culture.  At  the  age  of  twelve  he  received  a 
diploma  from  the  Mechanics’  Institute,  and  one  from  the  American  Insti- 
tute, for  architectural  modelling — the  model  of  a country  house,  built  very 
elaborately — having  made  his  own  tools. 

After  this  he  entered  an  architect’s  office,  and,  in  the  second  year,  received 
a diploma  from  the  American  Institute,  for  the  best  specimens  of  archi- 
tectural drawing.  Two  years  later  his  health  entirely  failed,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  go  to  the  country ; but  the  love  for  painting  which  had  been 
more  or  less  encouraged  during  his  architectural  apprenticeship,  was  now 
indulged  in  at  such  intervals  as  health  allowed.  He  returned  a^ain  to  the 
office,  but  disagreement  with  his  employer  caused  him  to  leave  perma- 
nently. He  retired  for  the  winter  to  Staten  Island,  where  he  painted  an 
architectural  landscape,  entitled  “ Italian  Composition,”  which  was  favor- 
ably hung  at  the  National  Academy.  This  now  belongs  to  L.  H.  Cortelyou, 
Esq.,  Staten  Island,  who  gave  him  an  order  for  a picture  of  his  farm  and 
homestead,  as  a pendant. 

The  next  season  he  hung  out  his  sign  as  an  architect,  and  designed  one 
dwelling-house  and  one  church,  which  all  who  have  visited  New  Dorp 
Cemetery  will  have  noticed  as  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  grounds.  He 
also  designed  a little  gothic  church  at  Rossville,  but  the  plan  was  sadly  muti- 
lated by  the  builder.  Want  of  encouragement  in  architectural  labor  led 
him  naturally  to  fall  back  on  painting.  About  this  time  he  made  many 
little  sepia  sketches,  which  were  sold  at  auCtion  by  Levy.  Mr.  J.  M.  Fal- 
coner, of  Brooklyn,  has  one  or  two  of  these.  Cropsey  soon  after  became 
acquainted  with  J.  P.  Ridner,  who  induced  him  to  visit  a place  in  New 
Jersey,  the  result  of  which  visit  (beside  many  sketches)  was  quite  a large 
picture,  entitled  “ Greenwood  Lake  from  Orange  County,”  that  attracted 
the  attention  of  Inman,  the  artist,  and,  by  his  request,  was  sent  to  the 
Academy,  and  the  artist  was  soon  eleCted  an  Associate.  He  was  so  little 
known  to  the  arts  and  artists  that  he  had  the  notice  of  election  for  some 
time  without  knowing  what  it  meant. 

This  picture  was  purchased  by  the  Art-Union  ; it  was  about  three  by  five 
feet,  and  was  drawn  by  a Philadelphian.  Then  followed  two  or  three  years 
of  hard  study  from  nature — in  Connecticut,  on  the  Hudson  River,  Lake 
George,  but  chiefly  at  Greenwood  Lake.  Continuous  application  again 
broke  down  his  health.  He,  however,  painted  the  picture  called  the 
“ Nameless  River,”  now  in  the  possession  of  Hon.  E.  D.  Morgan,  to  illus- 
trate a poem,  and  a picture  called  “Noonday,”  which  attracted  much 
attention  at  the  Academy  of  Design  ; pendant  pictures,  “ Looking  Ocean- 
ward,”  “ Looking  Land-ward,”  Staten  Island  ; they  belonged  to  Obadiah 
Bowne,  Esq.  But,  as  this  labor  was  very  unremunerative,  he  became 
weary,  ill,  dissatisfied,  and  sought  change. 

In  1847  Cropsey  married  the  daughter  of  Hon.  J.  P.  Cooley,  Greenwood 


L andscape-Pa  in  ters. 


535 


Lake,  and  made  his  first  visit  to  Europe,  leaving  New  York  in  May,  1847. 
After  the  usual  sight-seeing  in  London,  he  made  a tour  through  Scotland 
and  the  English  lakes  ; visited  Stratford-on-Avon,  Kenilworth,  etc.  ; and 
stopped  long  enough  at  Loch  Lomond  to  paint  a picture  of  the  lake  for  the 
Art-Union.  He  passed  through  Paris,  through  Geneva,  and  over  the  Sim- 
plon Pass  to  Lago  Maggiore,  Milan,  and  Genoa ; thence  to  Rome,  via 
Civita  Vecchia,  and  there  passed  the  winter.  His  studio  was  in  the  Via 
Babuino,  the  same  that  had  been  occupied  by  Cole  several  years  previous. 
Close  study  and  pecuniary  disappointments  brought  on  illness,  and  for  some 
weeks  Cropsey  was  prostrated.  He  painted  several  pictures,  but  they  were 
small  and  comparatively  unimportant,  except  “Jedburg  Abbey,”  for  John 
Rutherford,  Esq.,  of  New  Jersey.  The  following  spring  (1848)  as  he 
recovered,  he  worked  in  the  open  air,  making  many  studies  of  objects  of 
interest  and  scenery  about  Rome,  Tivoli,  Albano,  and  Lake  Nemi ; early 
in  the  summer,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  he  passed  on  to  Naples,  and  spent 
the  summer  at  Sorrento  and  Amalfi,  living  in  the  house  with  Story,  the 
sculptor,  and  near  C.  P.  Cranch,  and  visiting  the  temples  of  Paestum  in 
their  company.  Cropsey  painted,  while  at  Sorrento,  two  pictures — one  of 
Sorrento,  and  one  of  the  Island  of  Capri  which  was  purchased  by  the 
Art- Union. 

The  winter  found  him  back  at  Rome,  in  a studio  adjoining  Louis  Lang. 
The  most  important  work  executed  here  was  a picture,  four  by  six  feet,  of 
the  “ Pontine  Marshes,”  which,  a year  later,  was  purchased  by  the  Art- 
Union  out  of  the  Academy  exhibition.  Another  picture,  painted  the  same 
winter,  of  Lake  Nemi,  was  afterwards  presented  to  the  Academy,  and  by 
the  Academy  sold  to  the  Art-Union,  to  cover  a deficiency  in  their  funds  ; 
several  members  contributed  for  this  purpose.  It  is  now  in  the  possession 
of  William  H.  Appleton,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 

The  civic  troubles  in  Rome,  and  the  attack  on  the  city  by  the  French  in 
the  spring  of  1849,  hurried  Cropsey  homeward.  He  had  a pleasant  jour- 
ney to  Florence,  although  the  road  was  infested  with  banditti,  and  many 
travellers  were  robbed,  through  the  beautiful  towns  on  the  way,  which 
afforded  him  many  sketches.  Three  or  four  weeks  were  spent  in  Florence  ; 
thence  he  went  to  Pisa  and  Genoa,  and  then,  by  sea,  to  Marseilles  and 
up  the  Rhone  to  Paris.  The  cholera  in  Paris  drove  him  away,  but  not  till 
he  had  enjoyed  a brief  sketching  season  at  Barbison  and  the  forest  of 
Fontainebleau,  in  company  with  Hicks,  G.  W.  Curtis,  and  Gay,  of  Boston. 
He  stayed  in  Great  Britain  long  enough  to  make  a tour  through  Wales, 
and  then  came  home  by  way  of  Liverpool,  arriving  in  the  United  States 
in  July. 

Then  followed  several  years  of  study  and  successful  labor  ; the  summers 
being  spent  at  the  Greenwood  Lake,  Newport,  or  the  White  Mountains. 
The  principal  pictures  of  this  period  are  the  “Sybil’s  Temple,”  bought  by 
the  Art-Union,  and  engraved  on  wood  ; “ Harvesting,”  engraved  by 
Smillie,  on  steel,  for  the  Art-Union.  The  “ Sybil’s  Temple  ” is  a great 
favorite,  six  replicas  having  been  called  for.  “ Peace”  and  “War,”  now 


53o 


American  Artist  Life. 


in  the  possession  of  Joseph  Harrison,  of  Philadelphia,  was  painted  at 
this  time;  also  “Niagara,  the  American  Falls,  from  below,”  and  the 
“ Coast  of  Genoa,”  belonging  to  Moses  H.  Grinnell. 

In  the  spring  of  1856  Cropsey  sold  his  sketches  and  pictures,  and  em- 
barked for  London,  where  he  spent  seven  years,  gaining  social  and  artistic 
position,  receiving  many  attentions,  and  having  great  inducements  to  make 
that  city  his  home  for  life  ; but  the  Slaveholders’  Rebellion  broke  out,  and 
the  artist’s  intense  love  of  home  and  country  induced  him  to  return.  While 
in  London  he  painted  many  pictures,  but  those  which  attracted  the  greatest 
attention  were,  “ The  Backwoods  of  America,”  exhibited  in  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy in  1857,  and  “Paestum,”  exhibited  in  the  Royal  Academy,  and  received 
much  praise  from  David  Roberts.  The  following  season  he  exhibited  small 
studies  of  Bonchurch,  Isle  of  Wight,  one  of  which  was  purchased  by  the 
London  Art-Union,  and  the  other  bought  out  of  the  Academy  by  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman.  A series  of  designs  for  wood-cuts,  illustrative  of  Moore 
and  Poe  (“The  Poetry  and  Pictures  of  Thomas  Moore,”  Longmans,  1858  ; 
“Edgar  A.  Poe — Illustrated,”  same  year)  were  very  favorably  commented 
on  by  the  press.  A commission  from  Mr.  Gambert  for  thirty-six  pictures,  in- 
tended for  publication,  which  fell  through  after  sixteen  were  painted,  on  ac- 
count of  the  financial  difficulties  of  1857,  occupied  several  months.  “ Corfe 
Castle,”  in  the  possession  of  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  was  exhibited  at 
the  Royal  Academy,  and  a work  of  paramount  interest  in  London  was 
the  large  pidture  of  “ Autumn  on  the  Hudson  River,”  five  by  nine  feet. 
This  attracted  unusual  notice  from  ail  parts  of  the  country.  It  was  ex- 
hibited at  the  Great  London  International  Exhibition  of  ’62 — special  at- 
tention being  directed  to  it  by  the  Royal  Commissioners  on  account  of 
services  the  artist  rendered  in  the  American  Department,  for  which  he 
afterward  received  a medal.  It  was  sold  out  of  the  exhibition  to  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman.  Just  before  leaving  London,  Cropsey  finished  a large  pic- 
ture of  “Richmond  Hill,”  which  was  regarded  with  great  favor  by  the  ar- 
tists, and  considered  by  them  as  better  than  the  “Autumn  on  the  Hudson.” 
It  being  English  scenery,  they  understood  it  better.  It  had  many  figures 
of  about  twelve  inches  high  ; the  principal  group  were  painted  from  life. 
This  work  became  the  property  of  James  McHenry.  “Warwick  Castle,”  for 
Mr.  Cyrus  W.  Field,  was  painted  in  London.  The  first  of  a set  of  pictures 
of  Stoke  Pogis — the  scene  of  Gray’s  Elegy — was  painted  for  Sir  Danie 
Gooch,  who  has  seven  of  Cropsey’s  pictures.  Another  favorite  work  is  “ Ann 
Hathaway’s  Cottage,”  a little  sketch  of  which  was  sold  out  of  the  Avery  col- 
lebtion  to  Booth.  Before  leaving  London,  Cropsey  had  another  sale  of  pic- 
tures. He  returned  home  in  1863.  “ Wyoming  Valley,”  “Autumn  on  the 
Erie  Railroad,”  and  “Indian  Summer,”  are  among  his  late  elaborate  works 
The  London  Times  thus  speaks  of  Cropsey’s  “Autumn  on  the  Hudson  : ” — 
“American  artists  are  rapidly  making  the  untravelled  portion  of  the  Eng- 
lish public  familiar  with  the  scenery  of  the  great  Western  continent.  Mr. 
Church’s  ‘Falls  of  Niagara,’  and  the  ‘Heart  of  the  Andes,’  recently  ex- 
hibited, have  found  a companion  picture  in  Mr.  Cropsey’s  ‘ Autumn  on  the 


Landscape-Pa  inters. 


537 


Hudson  River,’  now  on  view.  The  painting  is  a perfectly  faithful  view 
of  the  locality — a valley  running  inland  from  the  Hudson,  between  West 
Point  and  Newburgh — in  the  vicinity  of  the  Sleepy  Hollow  of  Washington 
Irving,  and  Sunnyside,  the  pleasantly-named  retreat  in  which  the  last  years 
of  that  popular  writer  were  passed.  The  point  of  view  is  wrnll  chosen  for 
variety  of  effedt.  It  comprises  a lake-like  inlet  of  the  river,  the  distant  river 
itself,  mountains,  and  an  undulating  foreground  of  forest  and  wood.  The 
singularly  vivid  colors  of  an  American  autumnal  scene,  the  endless  contrast 
of  purples  and  yellows,  scarlets  and  browns,  running  into  every  conceivable 
shade  between  the  extremes,  might  easily  tempt  a painter  to  exaggerate, 
or  revel  in  variety  of  hue  and  effect,  like  a Turner  of  the  forest.  But  Mr. 
Cropsey  has  resisted  the  temptation,  and  even  a little  tempered  the  capri- 
cious tinting  of  nature  ; his  autumn  is  still  brilliant,  but  not  quite  lost  to 
sobriety,  as  we  have  sometimes,  we  think,  seen  it  in  that  Western  World. 
The  result  is  a fine  pidture,  full  of  points  that  are  new,  without  being  wholly 
foreign  and  strange  to  the  European  eye.  It  will  take  the  ordinary  ob- 
server into  another  sphere  and  region,  while  its  execution  will  bear  any 
technical  criticism.” 

Of  “ Richmond  Hill  in  ’62,”  the  London  Builder  says  : — 

“ Mr.  Cropsey,  the  American  landscape-painter,  whose  1 Autumn  on  the 
Hudson’  was  the  great  adornment  of  the  United  States  department  of  the 
International  Exhibition,  sought  for  a corresponding  view  to  show  Summer 
in  England,  and  finding  it  on  Richmond  Hill,  ‘ loved  by  the  Muses,’  has 
painted  a parallel  pidture  of  great  size.  He  has  chosen  well.  Every  one 
knows  Royal  Richmond,  the  Sheen  (from  the  shining  river)  of  former  time  ; 
where  Edward  III.,  Henry  VII.  (from  whose  paternal  estate  in  Yorkshire 
it  had  its  present  name),  and  Queen  Elizabeth  all  died  ; where  Henry  VIII. 
jousted  ; where  the  Oueen  of  George  II.  received  Jeanie  Deans  ; where 
Reynolds  and  Gainsborough  lived  ; and  which  has  been  sung  by  Pope  and 
Thomson. 

“ The  wall  of  famous  i Star  and  Garter  ’ is  on  the  left  of  the  pidture  ; beyond 
is  Petersham,  with  the  grounds  of  Ham  House,  where  the  great  Duke  of 
Argyle  was  born  : in  the  centre,  or  rather  to  the  right  of  it, — 

“ ‘ Wanders  the  hoary  Thames  along 
His  silver  winding  way  ! ’ 

Though,  as  the  time  chosen  is  the  afternoon  (just  before  going  in  to  that 
very  pleasant  dinner),  and  a rich,  warm  sky  gives  color  to  the  river,  it  be- 
comes rather  the  '‘gilded  stream  ’ of  Thomson’s  verse.  In  the  distance, 
which  is  capitally  painted,  is  seen  Windsor  ; everywhere  are  the  beauties 
with  which  nature  is  there  so  affluent ; and  in  the  foreground  is  a group 
of  many  figures  of  varied  classes,  the  costume  marking  the  period.  These 
figures  are  of  large  size,  and  very  cleverly  presented.  We  congratulate 
Mr.  Cropsey  on  having  produced  a charming  pidture  of  a charming  spot, 
the  first  view  of  which  ever  leaves  with  the  impressionable  observer,— 


“ ‘ A bright  resemblance  ne’er  to  be  destroyed.’ 


538 


American  Artist  Life . 


“ The  picture  is  now  at  Mr.  Henry  Graves’s,  in  Pall-mall,  and  is  to  be 
forthwith  engraved  by  Mr.  Robert  Wallis.” 

“ Statucca  Yale  ” is  a panoramic,  almost  topographical  work,  faithfully 
painted  in  detail,  and  remarkable  for  its  extent,  minuteness,  and  color.  A 
well-informed  critic  says  of  this  work: — 

“ The  painter  has  chosen  for  his  subject  a beautiful  valley  in  Wayne 
county,  Penn.  His  point  of  view  embraces  the  lofty  viaduCt  of  the  Erie 
Railroad,  which  spans  the  river  here,  the  village  resting  at  its  foot,  and 
the  devious  course  of  the  shining  band  for  miles,  till  it  is  lost  beneath  the 
shadows  of  the  mist-clad  mountains  in  the  distance.  The  season  expressed 
is  autumn,  the  gorgeous  tints  of  whose  foliage  are  conveyed  with  an  aban- 
don of  coloring  which  must  have  asked  for  the  courage  of  a Turner  in  the 
handling,  and  makes  serious  demands  fora  defence  of  its  truthfulness  upon 
those  whose  good  fortune  it  has  been  to  have  seen  how  much  more  start- 
ling in  its  varied  beauty,  than  art  can  ever  hope  to  convey  on  canvas,  is  the 
foliage  of  our  forests  when  the  first  icy  breathings  of  the  approaching 
winter  works  its  change  ; when  leaf  and  shrub  grow  wondrous  beautiful 
at  the  approach  of  death,  and  hill  and  valley  are  ablaze  with  color. 

Whatever  may  be  the  exceptions  raised  to  the  somewhat  scenic  char- 
acteristics of  this  work  in  the  judicious  praise  its  unquestioned  merit  must 
receive,  the  artist  will  no  doubt  find  the  reward  he  most  covets.  A student 
of  nature  so  faithful  to  his  task  as  Cropsey,  and  with  a pencil  so  fearless, 
may  rest  easy  about  the  reputation  of  his  works,  which,  like  those  of 
Turner,  may  stir  up  the  critics  of  the  present,  yet  be  worshipped  by  the 
Ruskins  of  the  future.” 

An  entire  contrast  to  this  picture  is  a beautiful  soft  lake  view,  highly 
colored,  reminding  one  far  more  of  Lake  Como  and  the  strong  tints  of 
Italian  scenery,  than  of  Lake  George.  The  atmosphere  is  admirable,  the 
distance  well  maintained,  and  the  coloring  so  beautifully  toned  and  com- 
posed that  it  charms  the  eye.  It  presents  a smooth  sheet  of  water  in  the 
glare  of  a midday  sun,  with  a number  of  small  figures  in  the  middle  dis- 
tance, and  with  some  graceful  trees  in  the  foreground.  The  entire  effeCt 
is  extremely  pleasant,  and  the  picture  has  been  greatly  admired.  It  is 
undoubtedly  the  best  that  Cropsey  has  executed  for  some  time. 

“ Corfe  Castle”  and  one  of  “ Mediterranean  Sea-Coast”  are  owned  by 
Marshall  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  the  “Return  from  Hawking,” 
by  J.  C.  Claghorn,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

At  one  visit  to  his  studio,  I found  a “ Winter-Scene  ” on  Cropsey’s  easel 
of  both  artistic  and  historical  interest.  A picturesque,  shelvy  mountain  im- 
pends over  a dell  in  the  Ramapo  valley  ; two  or  three  cottages  with  snow- 
crowned  roofs  are  grouped  in  lonely  brotherhood  ; the  white  drifts  on  the 
shaggy  and  precipitous  side  of  the  cliff,  the  wintry  sky,  the  unsullied  ex- 
panse of  the  foreground,  where  a woman  is  crossing  with  a pail,  a boy 
loitering  with  his  sled,  and  a load  of  wood  stands  ready  to  be  piled  away, 
unite  to  form  a landscape  at  once  indicative  of  the  season  and  the  country  ; 
the  tint  of  the  frozen  pool  and  the  hue  of  the  atmosphere  are  given  with 


f 


Landscape-Pa  inters. 


539 


much  truth  to  nature.  In  this  vicinity  Washington  made  his  head-quar- 
ters during  the  fearful  episode  of  our  revolutionary  struggle  identified  with 
Valley  Forge  : and  from  the  summit  of  this  abrupt  and  lofty  mountain,  he 
often  gazed  toward  New  York,  thirty  miles  distant,  visible  on  a clear  day. 
With  how  many  months  of  weary  and  intensely  anxious  vigil  is  that  bleak 
and  isolated  observatory  associated  ; and  how  vividly  the  terrible  ordeal 
through  which  the  scanty  and  famished  army  passed,  reappears  to  the 
mind  while  contemplating  the  scene  in  all  its  wintry  desolation  ! An  entire 
contrast  is  afforded  by  a view  of  Greenwood  Lake.  I knew  it  belonged  to 
New  Jersey,  from  the  character  of  the  rocks,  familiar  to  all  who  have  wan- 
dered along  the  Passaic.  In  the  umbrageous  glen  Cropsey  has  passed 
many  a dreamy  hour — his  summer  studio  was  near  by.  Another  sketch  is 
quite  characteristic  of  the  region  : it  represents  an  inundated  valley  over- 
grown with  dead  trees,  whose  huge  speCtral  limbs  have  a melancholy 
fascination.  There  is  a spirited  view  of  a gorge  in  the  Catskills,  wild  enough 
to  charm  Salvator  ; a shivered  tree  hangs  over  a chasm,  and  down  its  sides 
of  gray  stone,  half  hid  by  a thicket,  a foaming  cascade  is  dashing.  Those 
familiar  with  the  aspect  of  the  Mediterranean  coast  will  recognize  the  cliffs, 
water,  and  sky  of  the  Genoese  territory  in  the  masterly  scene  drawn  from 
nature  there.  One  large  canvas  was  outlined  with  an  effective  picture  of 
the  Roman  Forum  ; every  column  and  arch  wears  a grand  yet  familiar  look, 
and  recalls  the  delicious  spring  morning  when  I watched  the  snail-like  ex- 
cavators with  their  children’s  barrows  and  indolent  motion,  and  the  solemn 
nights  when  the  moon  gleamed  on  architrave  and  frieze,  and  memory  con- 
jured back  a triumphal  procession  or  a Ciceronian  discourse.  But  here  is 
something  nearer  home  : a beach  with  granite  ledges  and  a high  cliff — a 
seaward  perspective  and  the  green  billows  fringed  with  foam, — majestic, 
graceful,  half  transparent ; and  fair  figures  watching  the  beautiful  scene  ; 
that  curve  of  the  shore,  the  mould  of  that  rock,  the  outline  of  the  cliff,  are 
easily  recognized  : it  is  the  favorite  trysting-place  for  lovers,  the  delight 
of  children  in  their  afternoon  walk,  the  goal  of  the  Sunday  evening  prome- 
nade at  Newport — the  shore  below  the  “ Forty  Steps.”  How  many  will 
gaze  on  this  bit  of  coast-scenery  with  emotion  ! More  than  one  poet  has 
sat  there  in  reverie  ; more  than  one  flirt  has  been  awed  into  momentary 
earnestness  by  the  limitless  expanse  of  wave  and  sky  thence  stretching 
before  her  fickle  eye  ; and  many  a rosy-cheeked  urchin  has  gathered  bright 
pebbles  there  and  wet  his  little  feet,  while  the  nurse  listened,  forgetful  of 
her  charge,  to  an  insinuating  coachman.  The  place,  too,  has  witnessed  rare 
sport.  My  friend,  the  pastor,  Isaac  Walton,  Jr.,  has  landed  on  the  slip- 
pery ledge  many  a giant  tautog,  and  a less  clerical  fisherman  grown  pro- 
fane as  he  jerked  his  broken  hook  from  the  clinging  kelp,  or  waded  through 
the  advancing  tide  to  dry  land,  with  nothing  but  bait  in  his  basket.  I 
wonder  not  that  the  humorist  who  used  to  wake  laughing  echoes  here  with 
his  bon-mots,  set  Cropsey  to  work  in  order  to  have  the  beach  and  its 
environment  reflected  by  his  truthful  pencil.  Magical  in  more  than  a pro- 
fessional sense  is  the  scenic  limner.  During  this  half-hour  in  Cropsey’s 


540 


American  Artist  Life. 


studio,  I have  been  lured  to  Rome,  to  the  Catskills  and  the  Passaic,  to  the 
Ramapo  Valley  and  to  Newport ; and  each  locality,  besides  refreshing  my 
eye  with  natural  beauty,  has  wakened  fond  reminiscence. 

A characteristic  landscape,  by  this  artist,  is  “ Long  Island  Shore.”  It 
possesses  that  coolness  of  tone  and  tenderness  of  expression  which  formed 
the  principal  charms  of  his  pictures.  The  hour  repre- 
Suydam.  seated  is  just  at  sunset,  when  the  last  rays  of  the  sun 
shine  on  the  summit  of  the  lighthouse,  while  its  base 
is  in  shadow.  The  full  moon  has  just  risen,  and  its  beams  make  a 
broad  pathway  from  the  beach  to  the  horizon,  across  the  calm  waters, 
the  smooth  surface  of  which  is  only  broken  by  two  lines  of  ripples  spread- 
ing in  graceful  curves  along  the  shore.  The  sandy  beach,  with  an  occa- 
sional rock,  green  and  slimy  with  the  salt  waves,  jutting  above  its  level, 
marks  the  foreground.  A boatman  is  in  the  aCt  of  drawing  upon  the  sands 
his  light  skiff,  and  between  him  and  the  point  where  the  lighthouse  stands, 
several  other  figures  are  discernible.  In  the  distance,  a rocky  island 
slightly  wooded,  is  reflected  in  the  calm  waters,  and  a few  clouds,  their 
edges  tinged  by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  float  in  the  mid-heaven.  The 
quiet,  thoughtful  character  of  this  picture  is  eminently  pleasing  and  sug- 
gestive. 

Although  James  A.  Suydam  died  in  the  prime  of  his  life  and  usefulness, 
his  career  and  character  were  singularly  complete.  One  of  the  few  Ameri- 
can artists  whose  competent  fortune  exempted  him  from  the  necessity  of 
toil,  he  devoted  his  time  and  no  small  part  of  his  income  to  the  encourage- 
ment of  art,  and  the  succor  of  unappreciated  merit.  Of  an  old  and  well- 
known  New  York  family,  he  offered  the  pleasing  exception  of  an  American 
gentleman  of  independent  means  and  social  position,  devoting  himself  to 
a refined  and  noble  object,  with  disinterested  zeal  and  intelligent  sympathy. 
The  following  tribute  from  the  pen  of  one  who  knew  and  understood  the 
man  and  the  artist,  will  best  illustrate  his  character  and  influence  ; while 
his  taste  and  talent  in  landscape  art  may  be  estimated  by  the  graceful  spe- 
cimens of  his  skill  which  he  bequeathed  to  the  National  Academy  of  De- 
sign, where  they  are  arranged  together,  and  beside  the  excellent  portrait 
of  the  artist,  from  the  faithful  pencil  of  Huntington  : — 

“ In  the  death  of  Mr.  James  A.  Suydam,  American  art  has  met  with 
more  than  a common  loss  ; and  the  group  of  painters  that  make  a social 
influence  so  personal  and  delightful  as  that  of  our  New  York  artists,  have 
lost  a sincere  and  aCtive  friend,  a high-bred  and  true  gentleman,  a genuine 
and  refined  painter.  Mr.  Suydam  was  a quiet  and  gentle  nature,  an  exqui- 
site and  conscientious  artist. 

“ He  lived  free  from  the  noisy  unrest  of  better  known  and  more  popular 
painters  ; he  was  never  stung  by  the  gadfly  of  notoriety  ; he  never  even 
seemed  to  have  a passion  for  fame  or  for  greatness.  All  the  movements 
of  his  nature  were  in  harmony  with  the  soothing,  the  tender,  the  true. 
Compared  with  other  painters  of  vigorous,  or  impassioned,  or  purely  in- 
tellectual genius,  his  was  as  gentle  and  sweet  as  the  south  wind  over  blow- 


Landscape-Painters . 


541 

ing  roses,  and  it  had  something  of  the  seduCtive  sadness  of  an  evening  of 
June.  As  a man  and  as  an  artist  I believe  his  sympathies  were  in  corre- 
spondence with  all  blameless  and  gentle  things.  Ke  loved  the  soft  lapsing 
of  waters,  the  fainting  wave,  better  than  the  tumult  of  its  rising  strength 
or  the  force  of  its  breaking  fury. 

“ In  the  few  pictures  of  our  coast  scenery  or  of  our  twilights  which  he 
loved  to  paint,  he  has  always  given  us  nature  in  repose,  and  expressed  the 
sentiment  of  peace,  of  stillness,  of  brooding  love.  Nature  had  but  one 
mood  for  him,  and  that  mood  was  peaceful.  This  universal  sentiment  of 
nature  he  expressed  with  tenderness  and  conscientiousness. 

u If  asked  what  artistic  quality  and  what  truth  of  nature  he  best  illus- 
trated with  his  art,  I should  say  that  of  gradation.  In  this  he  rivalled,  if 
he  did  not  surpass,  his  friend,  Mr.  John  F.  Kensett.  Although  Mr.  Suy- 
dam  has  never  painted  a picture  characterized  by  strength,  although  he 
has  never  given  any  evidence  of  a creative  or  highly  imaginative  mind,  he 
must  always  be  cherished  as  a painter  of  sentiment,  sensitive  to  truth  of 
tone,  always  harmonious,  always  exquisite  in  gradation,  and  charming  in 
certain  qualities  of  color.  Mr.  Suydam  exposed  but  one  picture  at  the  last 
exhibition  of  the  Academy  of  Design,  and  I may  say  he  seldom  if  ever 
exhibited  more  than  two  or  three  pictures  at  a time.  He  seemed  entirely  ob- 
livious of  the  public,  and  he  painted  his  simple  little  landscapes  out  of  pure 
love  of  nature  ; and  I know  of  no  pictures  that  are  more  charming,  more 
opposed  to  sensationalism,  more  peculiar  and  delightful,  than  the  few  he 
has  given  to  American  art.  It  is  true  that  Mr.  Suydam  never  gave  prom- 
ise of  richness  or  power  in  his  treatment  of  nature.  He  was  one  of  the 
minor  poets  of  American  landscape  art,  often  exposed  to  the  charge  of 
weakness,  often  objected  to  as  monotonous  in  his  style,  but  always  wel- 
comed and  valued  as  true,  simple,  and  soothing. 

“ It  seems  so  strange  to  write  of  Mr.  Suydam  as  no  more  with  us  ; it  is 
so  startling  to  think  of  him  as  dead  ! He  was  known  to  the  choicest  spirits 
among  our  New  York  painters  ; he  was  respeCted  by  all ; he  was  loved  by 
those  who  knew  him  best.  His  1 conscientious  and  honorable  character,’ 
his  ‘refined  and  noble  soul,’  endeared  him  to  the  few  who  knew  him  well. 
With  all  his  modesty  and  unobtrusiveness  of  character,  he  was  firm  and 
manly.  But  he  is  dead.  He  is  no  more  with  us.  He  has  passed  away 
into  the  silence,  into  the  peace,  into  the  infinite  love,  which  so  unconsciously 
seemed  to  engage  him  in  his  life  and  speak  to  us  from  his  works.  I be- 
lieve the  best  men  of  American  art  have  lost  in  him  a brother,  and  that  he 
is  no  more  with  us  is  a personal  sorrow.  Artists  will  not  think  of  him  as  a 
great  light  gone  out,  but  as  a sweet  influence  no  more  aClive.  They  will 
not  think  of  him  as  a mighty  river,  enriching  a country  and  bearing  the 
future  on  its  strong  current,  suddenly  checked  ; but  they  will  think  of  him 
as  a spring  lost  under  the  earth — as  a sweet  voice  no  more  heard. 

“ Mr.  Suydam,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  was  at  Conway,  resting  from  a 
fatiguing  yet  delightful  study  of  the  Massachusetts  coast,  in  company 
with  his  friends,  Mr.  S R.  Gifford  and  Mr.  W.  Whittredge.  Mr.  Suydam 


542 


American  Artist  Life. 

not  feeling  very  well,  determined  to  rest  at  North  Conway,  while  Mr.  Gif- 
ford went  into  the  mountains  to  study,  after  which  he  was  to  join  Mr.  Suv- 
dam  and  go  to  Lake  George.  Mr.  Gilford  joined  his  friend  in  time  to 
share  his  last  hours,  and,  with  Mr.  Suydam’s  brothers,  take  care  of  him 
during-  his  short  and  fatal  sickness.  Mr.  Suydam  died  on  the  15th  of 
September,  1865,  at  North  Conway.  He  was  a true  man,  a high-bred 

gentleman,  and  a refined  and  genuine  artist.” 

A.  H.  Wenzler  has  painted  a few  landscapes,  almost  photographic  in 
detail.  One  represents  a part  of  the  Berkshire  Hills  where  they  cross  the 
border  between  Connecticut  and  Massachusetts.  Who- 
Wenzler.  ever  has  sojourned  in  the  romantic  region  of  the  Salisbury 
lakes  will  not  easily  forget  its  beautiful  mountain  scenery. 
Mr.  Wenzler  passed  a summer  in  this  picturesque  vicinity,  and  has  with 
remarkable  skill  embodied  its  characteristic  features.  We  have  rarely 
seen  the  effeCts  of  distance,  the  gradations  of  light,  and  the  aerial  perspec- 
tive more  truly  rendered  ; the  eye  penetrates  into  the  far  horizon  and  over 
leagues  of  mountain-range  ; the  hour  chosen  is  about  ten  o’clock  in  the 
morning,  when  the  mists  are  just  dissolving  before  the  sun’s  rays,  whereby 
a cool  veil  is  thinly  spread  over  the  prospeCt ; neutral  tints  relieve  the  eye, 
and  an  exquisite  and  subdued  tone  harmonizes  the  general  effecf  ; the  vil- 
lage of  Salisbury,  or  rather  its  church  and  the  few  edifices  near  itj  occupies 
the  centre  of  the  picture  ; while  in  the  foreground  is  one  of  those  broad 
but  shallow  streams  brawling  over  pebbles,  one  of  those  plank  bridges, 
clusters  of  noble  trees,  and  rock-bordered  dusty  roads,  which  are  so 
characteristic  of  a New  England  village  : two  figures,  naturally  introduced, 
give  human  significance  to  the  scene  ; about  which,  in  its  details,  there  is 
a reality,  and  in  its  general  effeCt  a literal  truth. 

J.  M.  Heade  was  born  in  Bucks  county,  Pa.,  near  the  home  of  Bayard 
Taylor.  He  began  his  artistic  career  as  a portrait-painter  ; but  the  love 
of  travel  was  strong  within  him,  and  few  of  our  artists 
Heade.  have  roved  more  about  the  world  ; he  passed  two  years 
in  Rome,  sojourned  in  France  and  England,  and  has 
visited  both  South  and  Central  America.  The  Emperor  of  Brazil  was  de- 
lighted with  Heade’s  pictures,  and  bestowed  a decoration  upon  him  when 
they  were  exhibited.  This  artist  has  become  identified  with  tropical  land- 
scapes, and  especially  succeeds  in  representing  marsh-lands,  with  hay-ricks, 
and  the  peculiar  atmospheric  effeCts  thereof.  In  Boston,  and  Providence, 
R.  I.,  where  he  had  a studio  before  removing  to  New  York,  there  are  sev- 
eral fine  and  highly-prized  examples  of  his  skill  and  taste.  He  meditates 
another  trip  to  South  America. 

As  an  accurate  and  graceful  illustrator  of  natural  history,  Heade  attained 
a special  reputation  ; his  delineation  of  birds  and  flowers  is  remarkable 
for  the  most  faithful  drawing  and  exquisite  color.  During  a sojourn  in 
South  America  he  made  a fine  collection  of  tropical  birds  and  butterflies, 
which  have  served  him  for  authentic  and  elaborate  studies. 

He  has  lately  turned  his  attention  to  landscape  art  with  great  success. 


L andscape-Pa  inters. 


543 


Several  fine  pictures  of  tropical  scenery  have  attracted  much  attention  ; 
one  in  particular,  rich  with  South  American  vegetation,  and  singularly  true 
to  nature  in  atmosphere  and  general  effedt,  was  the  subject  of  high  en- 
comium on  the  part  of  the  returned  Amazon  explorers — Agassiz  included. 
Another  clever  and  novel  landscape  by  Heade  is  a view  of  Point  Judith, 
where  the  efifedt  of  a thin  overflow  of  water  on  the  glistening  sand  of  the 
beach  is  given  with  rare  truth.  None  of  our  painters  has  a more  refined 
sense  of  beauty,  or  a more  delicate  feeling  for  color.  Mr.  Heade  embodied 
the  very  soul  of  vernal  bloom  and  tenderness  in  two  or  three  modest, 
lovely  pictures  of  “ Apple  Blossoms  ; ” we  could  not  have  believed  so 
simple  and  common  an  objedt  could  be  made  so  suggestive  ; but  they  give 
the  very  key-note  of  the  season  ; they  sweetly  hint,  not  only  an  orchard, 
but  a landscape  ; we  seem  to  inhale  their  odor,  and  see  their  pink  and 
white  flakes  quiver  in  the  breeze  of  May  down  on  the  newly  sprung 
grass. 

Jervis  McEntee  is  another  of  our  artists  who  knows  how 
to  unite  in  landscape  technical  merit  and  the  true  senti-  McEntee. 
ment  of  a scene  or  season  ; in  the  latter  respedt  he  is 
remarkably  effedtive  ; his  “Autumn  Leaves”  and  “Winter  Night”  not 
only  give  the  sensation  but  awaken  the  mood  appropriate  to  the  time  they 
respedtively  delineate  and  suggest.  In  many  of  his  landscapes  the  woods 
and  waters  are  combined  or  refledted  in  a way  that  shows  a true  percep- 
tion of  natural  as  distinguished  from,  conventional  effedts.  His  “Mount 
Tahawas”  is  not  adequately  luminous  in  tone,  but  its  conception  shows 
a certain  experimental  courage  which  is  auspicious  ; it  represents  a moun- 
tain at  the  moment  of  early  day,  when  the  mist  begins  to  roll  in  great 
drifts  away  from  its  summit.  Whoever  has  watched  the  freaks  of  the 
mist  in  the  heart  of  a mountainous  region,  will  find  some  touches  in  this 
pidture  true  to  nature  and  rarely  reproduced  ; others  may  strike  him  as 
apocryphal  ; but,  in  the  freedom  and  novelty  of  the  treatment,  we  find 
another  evidence  of  the  untraditional,  confidently  sympathetic  spirit  in 
which  our  landscape-artists  look  at  nature.  McEntee  is  fond  of  rendering 
landscape  subservient  to,  or  identical  with,  a special  sentiment  or  general 
fact  of  interest.  Thus,  not  long  since,  he  executed  a small  picture,  the  body 
of  which  was  an  overgrown  thicket,  a negledted  field  where  stood  a dilapi- 
dated farm-house,  through  whose  bare  rafters  gleamed,  under  a dark  wintry 
sky,  the  cold  amber  light  from  a belt  of  sunset  along  the  far  horizon  ; 
the  chill  tone,  the  deserted  feeling,  the  utter  dreariness  of  this  little 
scene  emphasized  its  name  as  the  type  of  desolation  ; it  was  called  “ Vir- 
ginia.” 

Jervis  McEntee  was  born  at  Rondout,  Ulster  County,  N.  Y.,  in  1828, 
and  this  is  still  his  home,  except  in  winter,  when  he  occupies  a studio  in 
New  York.  His  tendency  to  art  studies  and  enjoyment  was  revealed  to 
himself  by  accidental  association,  in  early  life,  with  a man  of  culture  and 
refinement.  One  day  Henry  Pickering,  a son  of  Colonel  Timothy  Pickering, 
of  revolutionary  fame,  seeking  a rural  retirement  to  assuage  a keen  dis- 


544 


American  Artist  Life. 

appointment,  left  his  native  New  England  and  went  up  the  Hudson  river  ; 
attracted  by  the  picturesque  and  wooded  shores  at  Rondout,  he  landed 
there,  and  entering  the  house  of  McEntee’s  father,  asked  to  be  received 
as  a boarder.  The  request  was  not  a pleasant  one  to  the  family,  accustomed 
to  their  domestic  privacy  ; but  something  in  the  manner  and  aspect  of  their 
guest  excited  sympathy,  and  they  yielded  a reluctant  consent.  Often,  in 
future  years,  they  must  have  thought  of  the  scriptural  promise  about  enter- 
taining angels  unawares  ; for  the  stranger  soon  became  like  one  of  the  family, 
and  proved  so  gentle,  highly  educated,  and  interesting  as  a companion,  that 
they  laved  him  as  a son  and  a brother.  His  conversation,  the  books  he 
brought  with  him,  the  whole  tone  and  character  of  the  man,  “ touched  to 
finer  issues”  the  dawning  intelligence  of  the  future  artist.  It  was  precisely 
the  desirable  social  element  for  a secluded  household.  Mr.  Pickering 
loved  children  ; a bachelor  full  of  ungratified  affeCtion,  he  made  Jervis  the 
companion  of  his  rambles,  and  exhibited  to  his  fascinated  eye  the  beautiful 
illustrated  works  which  were  his  favorite  recreation  ; a discriminating  lover 
of  art  and  literature,  he  interpreted  their  charms  to  his  young  friend.  He 
was  intimate  with  the  leading  artists  of  the  day ; and  the  companionship 
of  such  a man,  for  several  years,  in  the  domestic  retirement  and  picturesque 
vicinage  of  McEntee’s  home,  naturally  awakened  in  his  mind  an  apprecia- 
tion of  the  beautiful,  and  of  artist  life  as  a resource  and  a pursuit.  More- 
over, Pickering  was  a poet, — graceful  and  graphic  in  his  musings  and  de- 
scriptions of  nature  ; bird  and  blossom,  foliage  and  sky,  river  and  atmos- 
phere, as  well  as  life  and  books,  had  for  him  quiet  and  deep  teachings  and 
subtle  affinities  with  his  chastened  heart ; one  of  his  poems  breathes  the 
very  spirit  of  spring.  He  was  born  at  Newburgh,  in  the  house  known  as 
Washington’s  head-quarters,  where  his  father  was  on  duty  during  the  war  ; 
but  the  family  home  was  at  Salem,  Mass.;  and  when,  after  his  long  sojourn, 
having  identified  himself  with  his  adopted  home,  he  suddenly  determined 
to  go  to  New  York  and  engage  in  business,  no  evanescent  sorrow  fell  upon 
the  household  ; although  but  a child  at  the  time,  the  artist  still  remembers 
the  sadness  of  that  parting ; the  familiar  and  cherished  guest  would  not 
say  a good-bye  ” — confidently  predicting  his  return  ; but  he  never  came 
back  ; whether  so  complete  a change  from  a serene  life  in  the  midst  of 
beautiful  scenery  and  in  a peaceful  home,  to  the  excitement  and  isolation 
of  the  city,  proved  too  much  for  him,  or  whether  his  health  suffered  from 
constitutional  tendencies,  he  died  soon  after  leaving  Rondout,  and  was  as 
sincerely  lamented  by  his  friends  there  as  if  allied  by  tender  bonds  of  kin- 
dred. Those  who  know,  by  experience,  how  rare  in  American  villages  it 
is  to  find  a man  of  high  and  delicate  sentiment,  of  rich  culture,  and  of 
ideal  aspirations,  can  appreciate  the  blank  left  in  that  little  circle  by  the 
withdrawal  of  his  society. 

The  winter  of  1850-51  McEntee  passed  under  the  instruction  of  Church, 
in  New  York  ; and  then  sketched  and  painted  at  home.  In  1854  he  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  Rev.  T.  J.  Sawyer  ; and  for  three  years  engaged  in 
business  at  Rondout,  with  so  unfavorable  a result,  that  he  felt  more  than 


Landscape-P  ainters . 


545 


justified  in  devoting  himself  thenceforth  exclusively  to  art.  In  1858  he 
opened  a studio  in  New  York,  and  since  then  he  has  worked  therein  dur- 
ing the  winter,  returning  home  to  sketch  and  make  artistic  excursions  in 
the  summer.  In  1861  he  finished  a characteristic  landscape  called  “ Mel- 
ancholy Days  ” — the  phrase  being  adopted  from  the  opening  line  of  Bry- 
ant’s poem  descriptive  of  late  autumn.  With  that  sympathetic  appreciation 
of  true  merit  and  promptness  to  encourage  genuine  talent,  which  was  so 
noble  a trait  in  the  late  James  A.  Suydam,  he  purchased  this  picture,  and 
it  is  one  of  the  collection  he  bequeathed  to  the  National  Academy  of  De- 
sign. It  was  the  first  work  of  McEntee’s  that  gave  him  the  peculiar  rep- 
utation he  enjoys  in  landscape  art.  “Virginia”  is  owned  by  Cyrus  But- 
ler, Esq.,  together  with  another  called  “ The  Wilderness  ” — the  former,  with 
two  other  of  this  artist’s  works,  were  sent  to  the  Paris  Exhibition,  and 
several  of  the  French  artists  emphatically  recognized  their  merit ; “ Indian 
Summer”  belongs  to  J.  W.  Pinchot,  Esq.,  of  Milford,  N.  J.  ; “Winter 
Night,”  to  S.  R.  Gifford  ; “ In  the  Kaatskills,”  to  Mr.  Chittick  ; “ The 
Departure,”  to  R.  H.  Browne  ; “The  Return,”  to  Mr.  Rice  ; “ Morning  in 
the  Adirondacks,”  to  Mr.  Jessup  ; “ Late  Autumn,”  to  G.  W.  Riggs,  Esq., 
of  Washington,  D.  C.  ; “Autumn  Woods,”  to  Mr.  Faber  ; “ October,”  to 
S.  C.  Evans,  Esq.  ; this  picture  was  also  selected  for  the  Paris  Exhibi- 
tion. “Flight  of  the  Birds”  belongs  to  Walter  Brown,  Esq.  ; “Woods 
of  Asshokan,”  to  Robert  M.  Hoe,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  McEntee  has 
exhibited,  since  these  landscapes  were  painted,  “ October  in  the  Kaat- 
skills ” and  “ Last  Days  of  Autumn  ” — two  of  his  best  works  ; “ Novem- 
ber Days  ” belongs  to  J.  Taylor  Johnston,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  A recent 
critic  observes  : — 

“A  1 Late  Autumn,’  by  McEntee,  is  a variation  upon  the  theme  which 
the  pressure  of  orders  has  forced  so  often  from  this  artist.  This  picture 
has  all  that  sadness  which  was  seen  in  his  popular  work,  ‘ The  Melancholy 
Days  have  Come,’  and  more  than  that,  for  it  possesses  the  thought  of  the 
resurrection,  and  the  new  life,  too,  in  a brighter  future.  There  is  a bit  of 
water  in  the  foreground,  and  a strip  of  woods  in  the  middle  distance,  in 
the  sober  brown  of  the  autumn  days,  a horizon  in  delicious  gray,  and  a sk} 
of  broken  clouds  of  white  and  purple. 

For  delicate  truth  in  autumnal  scenery,  McEntee  is  unsurpassed. 
He  not  only  delineates  the  seasons  as  they  appear  in  the  Northern 
States,  with  consummate  fidelity  and  skill,  but  he  gives  the  subtle  grada- 
tions of  color,  atmosphere,  and  aspeCt,  that  mark  the  varying  points  of 
time  in  each  season.  There  is  a subtle  feeling,  a latent  sentiment,  and  a 
delicate  touch  in  his  landscapes,  rarely  found  even  among  the  most  skilful 
scenic  limners. 

“ OCtober  in  the  Catskills  ” represents  a slope  of  pasture-land  ; one  of 
those  abandoned  clearings  of  the  primeval  forest,  from  whose  ashes  spring 
rank  ferns,  wild  blackberry,  and  scented  immortels  ; a kind  of  wild  brake, 
full  of  shrubs,  thorns,  and  grass-tinted  flora — tinted  and  toned  by  the 
autumn  winds — is  the  foreground  of  the  picture  ; admirable  in  its  details, 

35 


546 


American  Artist  Life . 


and  so  natural  that  it  seems  familiar  as  a frequented  locality  to  every 
sojourner  in  the  hill -country.  Far  above  and  back  are  the  blue,  rounded 
summits,  snow-flecked  in  the  upper  gorges,  and  a strip  of  forest  between  is 
frost-kindled  into  such  crimson,  scarlet,  yellow,  and  brown  hues,  as  is  no- 
where to  be  seen  except  in  the  American  woods  early  in  the  fall.  The 
whole  is  a genuine,  winsome,  characteristic,  and,  so  to  speak,  pensively 
eloquent  bit  of  nature  : as  fine  an  autumnal  landscape,  in  its  simplicity  and 
truth,  as  the  fondest  observer  of  that  season  here  could  wish  or  imagine. 

Akin  in  felicity  of  execution,  though  quite  contrasted  in  subjeCt,  is  the 
view  of  a windy  day  on  Lake  George — where  the  dim  mountain,  gray  sky, 
and  roughened  waves  give  one  the  very  sensation  as  well  as  sentiment  of 
that  scene  and  scenery.  Several  of  his  winter  pieces  are  remarkable  for  the 
excellent  atmospheric  efieCt  and  impression — from  the  first  coming  on  to  the 
full  culmination  of  the  snow-falls  ; while  a Woodland  in  earliest  autumn 
breathes  the  solemn  tranquillity  that  attends  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  and  almost 
the  very  fragance  of  the  mellow  forest.  In  short,  these  landscapes,  while 
graphic  and  true  as  transcripts  of  the  most  memorable  phases  and  phe- 
nomena of  nature,  are  full  of  that  feeling,  insight,  and  authenticity  that 
make  landscape  art  so  highly  precious  and  pleasing. 

Another  familiar  and  cherished  name  among  our  landscape-painters  is 
that  of  Hart;  it  is  associated  with  many  characteristic  scenes  delineated 
with  the  blended  skill  and  sentiment  which  is  the  graceful 
w.  Hart.  distinction  of  the  American  school  ; and  it  is  identified 
with  two  brothers  of  Scottish  origin,  and  bred  mechanics. 
William  Hart  is  a native  of  Paisley — the  birthplace  of  the  artistic  and 
poetic  naturalist,  Wilson,  who  was  a pioneer  in  ornithological  studies  on 
this  continent,  and  one  of  the  earliest  litterateurs  among  us — his  life 
abounding  in  adventure  and  intellectual  triumphs,  softened  by  the  moral 
sensibility  and  aspirations  of  true  genius.  In  1831,  when  William  Hart 
was  nine  years  of  age,  his  parents  emigrated  to  the  United  States.  They 
settled  in  Albany,  N.  Y.,  and  the  future  artist  was  placed  in  the  establish- 
ment of  two  prominent  coach-manufaCturers  : like  Smybert,  his  first  aptitude 
in  handling  the  pencil  was  acquired  by  ornamenting  panels  ; by  a natural 
transition  he  began  to  sketch  from  nature,  and  soon  developed  a striking 
talent ; for  some  time  he  was  engaged  in  painting  window-shades,  and, 
having  become  dexterous  in  the  use  of  colors,  and  quick  in  imitative  ability, 
he  gave  up  mechanical  for  artistic  limning,  and  met  with  good  success  in 
portraiture. 

Dunlap’s  History  of  the  Arts  of  Design  awakened  his  artistic  aspira- 
tions ; a severe  illness  at  the  age  of  seventeen  obliged  him  to  give  up  his 
trade  ; his  first  studio  was  a rude  shed  on  a c£  side  hill  ” near  Troy.  For  three 
years  he  “boarded  round,”  painting  portraits  in  Michigan;  attacked  by 
fever  and  ague,  he  returned  to  Albany,  where  he  concentrated  his  mind 
upon  landscape  art.  The  liberality  of  Dr.  Ormsby  of  that  city  enabled 
him  to  visit  his  native  country,  whence  he  returned  invigorated  and  en- 
riched with  sketches. 


L andscape-Pa  inters. 


547 


His  pictures  now  gave  evidence  of  mature  sentiment ; in  color  they 
were  often  masterly,  and  were  the  obvious  result  of  faithful  study,  and  a 
pure  and  true  feeling  for  the  beautiful.  From  the  year  1848,  the  period  of 
his  return,  he  has  been  a frequent  exhibitor  at  the  National  Academy,  to 
which  institution  he  was  elebted  ten  years  after.  His  landscapes  admirably 
discriminate  the  diversities  and  coincidences  of  natural  phenomena  in 
North  Britain  and  North  America;  they  display  characteristic  features, 
often  rendered  with  consummate  tabt ; and,  in  the  more  quiet  attributes  of 
scenery,  few  of  our  artists  have  produced  more  attractive  illustrations. 
All  who  have  seen  will  recall  with  pleasure  his  “ Coming  from  the  Mill,” 
“ Little  Spring,”  “ Gloamin,”  “ Up  among  the  Hills,”  and  many  radiant  but 
softly-toned  autumnal  views  of  streams  and  woodlands,  instinCt  with  the 
dreamy  and  mellow  atmosphere  which  distinguishes  that  season  in  Amer- 
ica. One  of  his  landscapes  illustrates  a descriptive  poem  by  Bryant ; and 
in  the  graphic  touches  and  repose  of  his  best  works  there  is  a spirit  akin  to 
this  poet  of  nature.  “ Peace  and  Plenty  ” is  one  of  William  Hart’s  most 
effective  landscapes.  It  represents  a harvest-field,  with  a homeward-bound 
load  of  grain  the  village  in  the  distance,  the  winding  stream,  the  far- 
away mills,  and  in  the  foreground,  an  old  soldier  with  children,  all  softened 
and  warmed  by  a tone  of  sunny  repose,  combine  to  impart  to  eye  and 
mind  a complete,  genial,  and  magnetic  sense  of  the  bounteousness  and  the 
peace  of  nature,  for  whose  every  aspeCt,  latent  beauty,  and  moral  signifi- 
cance, as  felt  by  human  consciousness,  it  is  evident  that  this  artist  is  a 
genuine  enthusiast ; — his  pencil  is  alike  chaste  and  loving,  true  and 
tender,  and  many  of  his  smaller  landscapes  are  gems  of  quiet  yet  salient 
beauty. 

Not  always  equally  happy,  however,  are  all  the  works  of  Hart ; he  has 
sometimes  been  accused,  and  with  justice,  of  depending  more  upon  “hand- 
ling” than  fidelity  ; scientific  critics  deteCt  errors  of  faCfc,  and  poetical  ones 
find  a leaning  to  the  conventional  : but  these,  and  such  as  these,  in  his  as 
in  other  cases,  are  incidental  rather  than  absolute  defebts — the  fruit  of  a 
casual  style,  a temporary  mania,  or  carelessness  ; we  prefer  to  recognize 
and  record  the  essential  ability,  the  native  resources  of  an  artist,  especially 
in  landscape,  which  seems  peculiarly  liable  to  be  perverted  by  experiments 
and  fashion  ; and  when  true  to  himself,  Hart  reproduces  the  beautiful  in 
nature  with  simplicity  and  effebt.  His  “October’s  Golden  Hours”  is  full 
of  the  glow  and  grace  caught  from  the  very  heart  of  nature  ; “ Children  on 
Shore  ” and  “ Castle-rock  at  Ebb-tide  ” indicate  cleverness  and  tabt  in 
another  vein. 

James  M.  Hart,  his  brother,  was  born  in  Kilmarnock,  Scotland,  in  1828  ; 
like  William,  he  was  in  his  first  youth  a coach-maker’s  apprentice,  and  was 
led  by  native  taste  and  endowment  to  adopt  the  career  of 
a landscape  painter.  In  1851  he  went  to  Dusseldorf,  and  J.  M.  Hart, 
became  a pupil  of  Schirmer ; returned  to  Albany  in  1852, 
and  removed  to  New  York  four  years  subsequently  ; having  since  pros- 
perously there  followed  his  art,  wherein  he  exhibits  the  same  faithfulness 


American  Artist  Life. 


548 

and  feeling,  somewhat  modified  by  diverse  taste  and  discipline,  which  has 
endeared  the  best  of  his  brother’s  landscapes.  A little  picture  called 
“ Sunday  Afternoon  in  Berkshire  County,”  though  unelaborate  in  dimen- 
sions, has  an  exquisite  truth  and  grace  which  is  characteristic  of  his  pencil. 
u Woods  in  Autumn” — a view  of  a placid  lake  in  the  Adirondacks,  is  a 
beautiful  transcript  of  the  season  and  the  scene  ; and  a somewhat  elabo- 
rate criticism  thereof,  from  an  able  pen,  will  perhaps  best  indicate  this 
artist’s  peculiar  merit : — 

“ Of  this  picture  we  are  gratified  to  be  able  to  write  with  feelings 
of  unmingled  pleasure — to  hail  it,  not  only  as  the  best  of  the  larger 
works  which  of  late  years  have  left  the  studio  of  this  talented  artist,  but  to 
characterize  it  as  one  of  the  finest  contributions  lately  made  to  the  list  of 
American  successes  in  this  field  of  art. 

“It  is  not  now  our  intention  to  furnish  the  reader  any  detailed  description 
of  this  very  noble  effort  of  Mr.  Hart.  We  have,  in  the  contemplation  of 
his  picture,  derived  no  ordinary  satisfaction.  We  have  studied  the  work 
with  care,  to  fully  comprehend  its  motive.  We  have  considered  the  ability 
with  which  the  artist  has  carried  out  the  intention,  evident  to  us  ; and 
cheerfully  do  we  record  the  opinion  that,  in  ‘ Autumn  in  the  Woods,’  Mr. 
Hart  has  achieved  one  of  those  great  successes  only  to  be  won  when  the 
cunning  hand,  the  warm  heart,  and  subtle  brain  all  harmoniously  work  to-- 
gether  to  the  encompassing  one  great  and  noble  end.  In  this  picture  there 
is  pleasing  evidence  of  loving  enthusiasm  guiding  the  artist’s  hand  through 
many  months  of  patient  toil — full  evidence  of  deep  thought  and  well-gar- 
nered knowledge  ; knowledge  of  law  in  art  as  nature  ; knowledge  of  little 
things  as  great — of  light  and  of  air,  of  sunshine  and  shadow,  of  mountain, 
of  forest,  of  gleaming  waterfall  and  placid  lake,  of  every  tree  found  within 
the  leafy  haunts  of  our  great  forests  from  the  graceful  birch  to  the  sombre 
pine,  that  stately  monarch  of  our  Northern  wilds.  In  this  work  the  lover 
of  truth  (as  evinced  in  cunning  detail)  will  find  little  to  cavil  at.  Weed, 
vine,  rock,  gnarled  trunk  o’ergrown  with  richest  moss  and  the  wondrous 
debris  of  the  primeval  forest,  are  all  given  with  the  marked  faithfulness  to  form 
and  color  so  characteristic  of  this  artist : and  yet  with  such  mastery  of 
handling  that  the  minutest  weed  holds  but  its  relative  bearing  to  the  great 
mass.  The  scene  is  one  that  will  equally  charm  those  who  have  as  those 
who  have  not  visited  these  beautiful  solitudes.  The  subjeCt  we  assume  to 
be  more  an  ideal  creation  of  the  painter  than  any  particular  view  ; but  how- 
ever that  may  be,  the  scene  is  certainly  one  that  in  all  its  features  breathes 
the  air  of  that  enchanting  region. 

u The  soft  yet  clear  light  of  an  OCtober  day  rests  lovingly  on  lake  and 
mountain,  just  sufficient  of  its  witching  haze  to  soften  without  obscuring 
the  beauty  of  line  in  this  most  graceful  of  compositions,  at  the  same  time 
mellowing  into  a saddened  splendor  the  glory  of  its  autumnal  tints.  Mark 
how  faithfully  the  quiet  lake  reflects  within  its  crystal  depths  the  pictured 
forms  on  every  side  surrounding  it,  and  how  gloriously  the  mad  waters, 
dashing  through  the  rocky  channel  in  the  foreground,  take  their  final  leap 


Lan ds cape- Pa  in  ters. 


549 


into  the  unseen  depths  beyond — passionate  as  love  or  hate,  yet  powerless 
all,  to  disturb  that  eternal  quiet  which  now  seems  for  evermore  to  reign 
within  that  lake’s  sweet  depths. 

“ Of  the  technical  merits  of  the  work  we  can  but  speak  from  the  knowledge 
gleaned  of  observation,  yet  from  the  knowledge  so  acquired,  we  venture  to 
recognize  in  the  ‘Autumn  in  the  Woods’  a most  decided  triumph  of  that 
essentially  professional  prerogative.  The  manner  in  which  all  parts  of  this 
composition  are  brought  into  proper  relation  with  the  whole,  the  unity  of 
tone  so  carefully  preserved,  and  the  masterly  yet  tender  treatment  of  the 
detail,  are  beyond  all  praise  ; that  conscious  fidelity,  which,  while  allowing 
no  sacrifice  of  local  truth,  yet  could,  with  exquisite  skill,  so  harmonize  the 
claims,  as  it  were,  of  every  objeCt  in  the  scene,  that  each,  while  glorying 
in  its  separate  sovereignty,  could  yet,  under  the  artist’s  broad  and  skilful 
handling,  become  so  fused  as  to  leave  no  jarring  discord  on  all  that  broad 
canvas — are  features  of  the  picture  that  not  alone  rivet  the  attention 
and  claim  the  admiration  of  the  beholder,  but  entitle  this  last  and  finest 
production  of  Mr.  Hart  to  rank  among  the  best  works  of  the  American 
school.” 

Another  characteristic  work  of  James  Hart’s  is  “ Moonrise  in  the  Adi- 
rondacks ; ” the  moon  rises  over  a lonely  lake  ; in  the  foreground  is  a 
clump  of  fallen  trees,  their  withered  arms  entangled  in  rank  grasses,  water- 
weeds,  and  moss.  “ Peaceful  Homes  ” represents  a little  country  village 
or  hamlet,  nestled  among  trees  by  a riverside.  The  village,  however,  oc- 
cupies but  a small  portion  of  the  canvas.  On  the  right  hand  we  see  a 
hay-field,  enlivened  with  the  usual  incidents  of  haying-time.  Down  a 
somewhat  stony  road,  one  side  the  field,  a boy  is  driving  some  rather  frisky 
cows.  The  distance  is  a faithful  transcript  of  quiet  scenery,  such  as  may 
be  seen  in  the  lake  region  of  Middle  and  Western  New  York.  Perhaps 
we  cannot  better  realize  the  spirit  and  method,  not  only  of  these  brother 
artists,  but  of  the  leading  members  of  the  American  school,  than  by  refer- 
ring to  a leCture  delivered  by  William  Hart,  before  the  Brooklyn  Academy 
of  Design,  of  which  he  is  President.  It  is  a just  exposition  of  some,  at 
least,  of  the  principles  and  sympathies  which  have  given  distinction  to 
landscape  art  in  our  country:  his  subjeCt  was  “The  Field  and  the  Easel.” 
An  appreciative  audience  was  in  attendance.  It  was  impossible,  said  the 
leCturer,  by  way  of  introduction,  to  reveal  the  soul  of  art  in  language,  and 
he  could  attempt  little  more  than  to  indicate  the  principal  rules  by  which 
the  study  of  art  was  to  be  guided.  It  was  quite  popular  among  artists  to 
affeCt  ignorance  of  theories  and  rules  of  art,  and  it  might  sometimes  hap- 
pen that  an  original  art-genius  would  attain  to  high  excellence,  in  real 
ignorance  of  the  theories  and  rules  that  governed  his  inspiration ; but  it 
was  none  the  less  true  that  art,  like  everything  else,  was  founded  on  theory 
and  governed  by  rule,  and  there  were  few  artists  who  could  afford  to  dis- 
pense with  these  rules,  however  ignorant  they  might  profess  to  be  of  their 
existence.  His  remarks  on  the  present  occasion  would  be  confined  to 
landscape  art  exclusively.  His  objeCt  would  be  to  take  his  hearers  on  a 


American  Artist  Life. 


550 

tour  through  the  fields,  and  thence  back  to  the  studio,  laden  with  the  spoils 
of  the  campaign.  And  first,  the  student  was  supposed  to  be  able  to  sketch 
objects  singly  or  in  combination,  and  he  desired  to  impress  on  all  students 
the  importance  of  a thorough  study  of  single  objects  as  indispensable  at 
the  outset  of  his  career  as  an  artist.  Having  gone  forth  into  the  broad 
sunshine  and  the  fields,  his  first  question  would  be  what  subjedt  he  should 
select  for  his  pencil.  And  here  he  would  caution  the  student  against  the 
selection  of  any  particular  scene  merely  because  “ it  looked  like  a pidture.” 
If  he  did,  the  chances  were  it  would  be  tame ; and,  however  true  he  might 
be  in  the  delineation  of  nature,  he  would  incur  the  criticism  of  having 
imitated  some  ideal  pidture  manufadtured  for  the  occasion.  The  more 
harmonious  combination  of  the  natural  elements  that  go  to  make  up  a 
pidture  were  not  necessarily  good.  It  were  better  to  seledt  a subject  or 
scene  as  far  removed  from  the  conventional  as  possible.  Try,  if  possible, 
to  embody  a sentiment  or  idea  of  your  own,  and  one  in  unison  with  your  own 
feelings.  This  sentiment  might  precede  or  succeed  the  subjedt.  The 
artist  might  have  a preconceived  idea  or  sentiment  which  he  wished  to 
embody  in  a pidture,  or  he  might  come  upon  a scene  that  suggested  a sen- 
timent. In  the  one  case  the  sentiment  preceded  the  subjedt ; in  the  other 
the  sentiment  was  the  offspring,  so  to  speak,  of  the  scene.  An  artist  might 
command  success  in  either  way ; but  there  should  always  be  an  idea, 
either  preceding  or  succeeding  the  subjedt,  and  that  idea  should  be  his 
own — an  idea  or  sentiment  in  which  he  was  interested,  and  which  should 
be  wrought  out  with  his  pencil  in  such  manner  as  to  interpret  his  own 
thought  and  soul,  and  not  in  imitation  of  another  man’s.  Having  found 
his  subjedt,  he  is  next  to  inquire  how  much  of  his  pidture  or  panorama,  of 
which  he  is  the  centre,  he  can  take  in  upon  the  canvas.  With  regard  to 
this  it  was  only  necessary  to  say,  as  a rule,  that  he  must  give  enough  to 
represent  all  the  combinations  that  go  to  make  up  the  individuality  of  the 
scene.  (The  speaker  here  illustrated  the  subjedt  by  reference  to  one  of 
the  sketches,  of  which  there  were  a dozen  or  more  suspended  in  the  rear 
of  the  desk.)  The  importance  of  studying  the  topography  of  a landscape, 
as  distindt  from  color,  was  urged,  and  Turner  was  instanced  as  a master 
artist  who  made  this  a prominent  feature  of  his  method.  The  student  was 
cautioned  not  to  alter  or  modify  the  scene  at  the  expense  of  nature  and 
truth.  The  lecturer  then  spoke  of  the  different  methods  of  sketching — 
whether  with  lead  pencil,  black  and  white  crayon,  charcoal,  pen  and  ink, 
water  colors,  etc.,  and  pointed  out  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of 
each,  giving  the  preference  on  the  whole  to  pen  and  ink. 

Returning  from  the  field  to  the  studio,  the  student’s  purpose  must  now 
be  earnest.  He  must  now  seek  to  contradt,  intensify,  and  subjedt  the  sen- 
timent to  the  pidture.  Any  subjedt  could  be  rendered  interesting  if  true 
to  nature.  As  to  “treatment,”  so  called,  it  was  the  broadest  and  most 
vague  word  in  the  vocabulary  of  art.  One  thing,  however,  was  now  well 
established — that  “sky  treatment”  was  of  the  highest  importance.  Acces- 
sories should  not  be  made  to  appear  as  the  principal  in  the  completed 


L andscape-P ainters . 


55i 


work.  Care  should  be  taken  not  to  follow  too  closely  a favorite  artist.  It 
was  well  enough  for  the  student  to  admire  a good  model — better  than  to 
essay  independence  before  one  had  grown  out  of  childhood — but  admiration 
should  not  be  allowed  to  end  in  mere  imitation.  St.  Paul  once  sat  at  the 
feet  of  Gamaliel,  as  his  master,  but  St.  Paul  did  not  feel  bound  to  carry 
Gamaliel’s  carpet-bag  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  If  one  imitates  at  all,  by  all 
means  let  him  imitate  the  excellencies  and  not  the  defedls  of  his  master. 
It  was  not  the  wart  on  Cicero’s  nose  that  made  him  an  orator.  Above  all, 
let  your  pictures  tell  something  that  you  feel.  If  you  feel  nothing,  keep 
silent  until  you  do  feel  something,  and  do  not  attempt  to  tell  what  you  think 
you  ought  to  feel,  or  what  you  imagine  somebody  else  feels. 

Marine  landscapes  were  painted  thirty  years  ago  by  an  Englishman  in 
Philadelphia — Thomas  Birch,  who  died  there,  where  his  works  are  best 
known,  January  3,  1851.  The  freshness  of  his  atmosphere 
and  clearly-painted  waves  were  marked  features.  His  Birch, 
delineation  of  the  engagement  between  the  U.  S.  frigate 
Constitution  and, the  British  frigate  Guerriere,  and  that  between  the  u United 
States  ” and  the  “ Macedonian  ” — each  four  by  two  feet  six  inches — are  fine 
specimens  of  this  artist,  and  of  rare  historical  value  ; they  are  in  the  pos- 
session of  Joseph  Harrison,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia. 

This  painter’s  name  was  once  quite  familiar  to  the  Bostonians.  He 
painted  chiefly  on  panel,  and  his  pictures  have  often  suffered  by  cracking. 
He  must  have  experimented  in  color,  as  not  a few  of  his 
works  have  become  yellow  in  spots.  He  was  one  of  the  Salmon, 
earliest  marine  painters  of  reputation  in  Massachusetts. 

Salmon  painted  with  great  care,  and  his  pictures  are  almost  miniatures 
in  their  detail.  He  chiefly  affected  sea-views,  and  was  especially  happy  in 
introducing  figures  therein.  His  greatest  defedt  was  in  the  treatment  of 
the  water,  which  he  usually  represented  as  a succession  of  short,  choppy 
waves,  an  effedt  rarely  seen  on  our  coast,  though  not  in  itself  untrue  to 
nature.  His  colors  are  very  harmoniously  blended,  and  especially  there  is 
in  many  of  them  a pearly  tone  which  has  a charming  effect. 

Salmon  was  a very  eccentric  man,  and  lived  for  years  in  a little  hut 
on  one  of  the  wharves  in  Boston,  studying  the  subjedt  he  most  loved. 
Very  many  of  his  views  are  of  familiar  localities  near  Boston,  though  there 
are  also  English  scenes  from  his  pencil. 

R.  Bonfield  also  ventured  successfully  in  marine  landscape,  of  which 
there  is  a good  example  in  the  “ Coast  Scene  ” in  the  gallery  of  Marshall 
O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New  York  : but  until  the  advent 
of  Bradford  and  Dix,  this  sphere  was  comparatively  little  R.  Bonfield. 
cultivated  by  our  native  artists,  though  it  is  one  singu- 
larly adapted  to  the  taste  of  a commercial  people.  Van  Beest,  an  excellent 
artist  from  Holland,  won  much  reputation  and  some  money  as  a marine 
landscape-painter,  during  ? brief  but  improvident  career  ; and  of  late, 
De  Haas,  a German  painter,  has  been  very  popular  and  successful  in  his 
sea-coasts,  naval  fights,  and  shipwrecks.  Dana,  Staigg,  Swain  Gifford, 


552  American  Artist  Life. 

Curtis,  and  Salisbury  Tuckerman  of  Boston,  and  others,  have  executed  fine 
coast  and  craft-scenes. 

Some  of  the  most  noteworthy  marine  pieces  recently  executed  in  New 
York  are  from  the  pencil  of  F.  H.  De  Haas.  A native  of  Rotterdam  and 
a pupil  of  Louis  Meyer,  after  some  years  of  study  at  the 
De  Haas.  Hague  and  of  sketching  in  the  island  of  Jersey,  and 
along  the  French  coast,  De  Haas  came  to  this  country  and 
opened  a studio  in  New  York.  His  sea-storms  are  full  of  vigorous  truth  ; 
his  view  of  Farragut’s  naval  fight,  during  the  late  war,  which  resulted  in 
the  capture  of  New  Orleans,  proved  a highly  popular  work.  De  Haas 
painted,  for  this  gallant  officer,  the  first  battle-scene  in  which  he  was  en- 
gaged, when  a midshipman  on  board  the  “ Essex.”  The  artist’s  studio 
contains  numerous  admirable  marine  studies,  and  his  coast-scenes  are 
very  effective  and  beautiful. 

Among  the  many  students  of  art  called  from  that  peaceful  pursuit  to  the 
field  by  the  exigencies  of  the # war  for  the  Union,  is  one  of  rare  promise 
and  no  inconsiderable  performance  in  the  sphere  of  marine 
Dix.  landscape.  Charles  Temple  Dix,  a son  of  General  John 

A.  Dix,  himself  a discriminating  patron  of  native  art, 
executed  several  admirable  coast  and  sea-pieces  : of  the  various  craft  to 
be  found  on  our  seaboard,  he  had  made  a careful  study ; a voyage  to 
Gibraltar  gave  birth  to  a fine  delineation  of  that  fortress  and  its  adjacent 
waters  ; his  talent  for  this  comparatively  negledted  but  highly  popular 
branch  of  landscape  art  was  too  decidedly  manifested  and  recognized  to 
allow  of  any  but  a temporary  cessation  of  his  graceful  and  progressive  labors. 

Since  the  close  of  the  war  for  the  Union,  Major  Dix  has  passed  a winter 
at  Rome  and  some  months  among  the  Channel  Islands  ; — the  fruit  of  his 
studies  in  the  latter  region  being  a fine  landscape,  which  was  exhibited  in 
1866-7,  at  the  Royal  Academy,  London,  much  praised  by  the  critics,  and 
purchased  by  an  amateur  at  the  artist’s  own  price. 

A.  W.  Warren  was  born  in  Coventry,  N.  Y.,  and  farmed  with  his  father,  a 
man  of  substance,  largely  interested  in  the  cattle  trade.  Warren  Jits  became 
a pupil  of  T.  H.  Matteson  at  Sherburne,  N.  Y.  Taking  a 
Warren.  fancy  to  marine  subjects,  he  shipped  as  cabin-boy  on  a vessel 

bound  to  South  America,  that  he  might  see  the  sea  in  all 
its  bearings.  Since  then  he  has  lived  at  Mt.  Desert,  and  built  his  own  boat  to 
facilitate  his  travel  over  the  watery  highway  to  make  studies  of  interest  on 
the  islands  adjacent  to  Schooner  Head.  He  is  now  absent  on  a second 
visit  to  Central  America  (Nicaragua)  in  search  of  fresh  material.  A work 
of  his,  “ Rocky  Shore,  Mt.  Desert,”  is  in  the  gallery  of  the  Brooklyn  Insti- 
tute, and  has  much  vigor  of  drawing  and  handling. 

Besides  our  earliest  historical  painter  and  a popular  living  artist  in  por- 
traiture, we  have  another  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends  devoted  to 
landscape  art.  Obsolete  now,  indeed,  would  be  the  ear- 
Bradford.  nest  discussion  whereby  the  Quaker  elders  in  the  woods  of 
Pennsylvania  strove  to  reconcile  the  boy  Benjamin  West’s 


L andscape-P  ainters . 


553 


pursuit  of  art  with  the  requirements  of  their  religion  ; gradually  but  surely 
have  taste,  the  love  of  beauty,  and  the  aesthetics  of  civilization  encroached 
upon  the  once  uncompromising  devotees  of  plainness  of  speech,  costume, 
and  life  ; and  the  muse  of  Whittier  seems  to  have  exorcised  the  spirit  of 
bigotry  and  won  a truce  between  truth  and  beauty  as  combined  elements, 
instead  of  antagonistic  forces  in  the  moral  economy  of  life.  There  is 
something  naively  refreshing  in  hearing  thee  and  thou  from  artistic  lips, 
and  a Friend  who  is  a painter  by  profession  is  a living  symbol  of  the  eclec- 
ticism of  the  age. 

William  Bradford,  born  and  bred  in  the  faith  of  the  Quakers,  has  devot- 
ed himself  more  exclusively  to  coast-scenes  than  any  of  our  artists  ; and 
to  his  pencil  we  are  indebted  for  many  of  the  most  truthful  representations 
of  the  most  characteristic  shores  of  New  England,  and  the  adjacent 
waters.  He  is  a native  of  New  Bedford,  Massachusetts  ; and  although 
manifesting  a fondness  for  art  from  boyhood,  he  was  educated  for  busi- 
ness. His  mother  was  an  exemplary  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends  ; 
and  we  are  disposed  to  attribute  one  of  his  most  effective  traits  as  an  artist, 
patience,  to  the  self-control  and  calmness  which  seem  to  exhale  from 
the  atmosphere  of  the  seCt,  and  to  harmonize  their  households  and  life- 
work. 

Bradford  married  in  Lynn,  and  his  wife  is  of  the  old  Quaker  stock  of 
New  England.  Thrift  is  not  less  the  spirit  of  that  denomination  than 
piety  ; and  it  is  not  surprising  that,  despite  his  own  ardent  wishes,  the  fu- 
ture artist  was  forced  by  circumstances  to  sacrifice  the  eight  years  succeed- 
ing his  marriage  to  trade.  Had  success  crowned  his  exertions  he  might 
have  been  beguiled  into  making  commerce  his  permanent  occupation,  or 
withdrawn  therefrom  to  indulge  his  artistic  taste  as  an  independent  ama- 
teur ; but  one  of  those  financial  crises  so  frequent  in  this  country,  involved 
the  young  merchant  in  bankruptcy  ; and  this  misfortune  not  only  justified 
his  decision  to  renounce  thenceforth  a pursuit  for  which  he  had  not  the 
least  aptitude  or  liking,  but  made  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  seek  in  art  not 
only  the  gratification  of  long-baffled  aspirations,  but  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence. He  had  never  absolutely  negleCted  the  pencil ; its  exercise  had 
amused  his  leisure  ; and  while  he  now  resumed  it  in  earnest,  he  managed 
to  render  it  profitable,  at  the  same  time  that  he  carried  on  a course  of  study 
with  a view  to  professional  success.  Living  in  a seaport  town,  and  famil- 
iar with  mariners  and  merchants,  he  found  that  making  portraits  of  ships 
was  a facile  and  a lucrative  resource  ; and  in  this  humble  branch  he  was 
content  to  work  until  greater  knowledge  and  skill  should  enable  him  to 
portray  with  effeCt  the  ocean  and  its  coast.  The  constant  drawing  of  ves- 
sels was  an  excellent  discipline  ; he  soon  understood  the  various  manoeu- 
vres and  situations  with  reference  to  tide  and  wind  that  so  greatly  enhance 
the  picturesque  associations  of  every  kind  of  craft,  from  the  light  yacht  to 
the  massive  frigate  ; the  build,  rig,  and  complete  natural  language  of  a 
ship  became  familiar  to  him  ; and  when  to  this  knowledge,  derived  from 
long  observation,  he  added  a skilful  hand  and  a true  eye  in  the  delineation 


554 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  rocks,  beach,  waves,  and  sky,  Bradford  was  fairly  equipped  for  the  work 
of  a marine  painter,  one  of  the  most  popular  and  least  cultivated  branches 
of  native  art. 

Desirous  of  improvement  in  this  sphere,  he  induced  the  best  foreign 
marine  painter  in  the  country  to  join  him  at  his  home  at  Fairhaven,  in 
order  to  avail  himself  of  the  instruction  thus  attainable.  He  found,  how- 
ever, that  Van  Beest,  so  favorably  known  amongst  us  through  his  spirited 
India-ink  sketches  of  ships  in  a storm,  aimed  almost  exclusively  at  general 
effect,  wherein  he  had  indeed  attained  a rare  skill ; and  doubtless  Bradford 
derived  much  advantage  from  studying  the  manner  of  this  artist.  But 
this  method  was  uncongenial,  the  primary  objeCt  of  his  pupil  being  to  carry 
into  the  representation  of  coast  scenery  the  same  exquisite  fidelity  in  de- 
tail which  had  won  for  our  painters  of  forest  and  lake  subjects  such  de- 
served renown.  It  was  by  dash  rather  than  conscientiousness,  by  a happy 
knack  more  than  by  painstaking  care,  that  Van  Beest  produced  his  ani- 
mated and  often  most  impressive  pictures  ; whereas  Bradford  felt  that  his 
own  success  depended  on  minute  accuracy  and  patient  observation  of  local 
characteristics.  Accordingly,  after  working  together  in  the  same  studio 
for  two  years,  they  separated,  and  Bradford  began  a course  of  resolute 
and  quiet  study  from  nature,  visiting  the  most  picturesque  regions  along 
the  coast  of  New  England,  Nova  Scotia,  and  Labrador,  and  making  mi- 
nute portraits  of  the  rocky  marge,  so  that  many  of  the  most  prominent  geo- 
logical diversities  are  identified  at  a glance  in  his  almost  photographic  de- 
lineations, by  one  familiar  therewith.  Cohasset,  Cape  Ann,  Nahant,  the 
Bay  of  Fundy,  and  other  sections  of  the  eastern  coast  of  the  Atlantic 
were  successively  visited  by  this  conscientious  artist  ; he  spent  days  in 
depicting  in  oil  a single  group  of  rocks;  and  some  of  these  materials  for 
the  foreground  of  landscapes  have  been  in  great  demand  by  those  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  the  localities,  on  account  of  their  truthful  suggest- 
iveness ; for  so  faithfully  drawn  and  colored  are  they,  that  each  stone 
seems  a magic  memorial,  the  sight  of  which  brings  vividly  to  mind  the  en- 
tire range  of  sea  and  shore,  of  which  they  form  so  insignificant  a fragment. 
A series  of  these  studies  made  from  the  coast  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  are 
remarkable  illustrations  of  what  fidelity  to  details  can  efifedfc  when  a truly 
characteristic  objedt  is  skilfully  treated.  Bradford  is  indefatigable  in  his 
search  for  subjects,  and  has  explored  many  isolated  and  beautiful  ranges 
of  coast  never  before  haunted  by  an  artist. 

From  his  several  trips  to  Labrador  he  has  brought  many  Esquimaux 
trophies,  photographs  of  icebergs,  and  original  studies.  The  following 
account  of  one  of  these  summer  excursions,  which  appeared  soon  after  his 
return  in  a leading  journal,  will  give  an  idea  of  the  method  and  means 
whereby  this  enterprising  artist  obtains  his  materials  and  inspiration  : — 

u Mr.  Bradford  sailed  in  a vessel  chartered  for  the  purpose,  for  the  north- 
eastern coast,  going  as  high  as  the  fifty-sixth  degree.  The  vessel  encoun- 
tered its  first  ice  about  the  middle  of  the  month,  in  the  vicinity  of  Cape 
Clear,  and  from  that  period  to  the  latter  part  of  August,  when  it  was  headed 


L andscape-Pa  in  ters. 


555 


homeward,  it  was  never  out  of  sight  of  icebergs  and  icefloes.  For  two 
weeks  at  one  time,  the  vessel  was  frozen  in  a field  of  ice  five  or  six  hun- 
dred miles  in  extent,  and  so  surrounded  by  it  that  it  rose  like  a wall 
several  feet  above  the  taffrail.  It  may  be  readily  imagined  that  sketching 
out  of  doors  in  such  a region,  even  in  the  middle  of  summer,  with  the 
thermometer  in  the  neighborhood  of  thirty  degrees  Fahrenheit,  was  not 
a comfortable  occupation,  however  exciting  it  might  have  been. 

“ Clad  in  the  sealskin  suits  of  the  Esquimaux,  Mr.  Bradford  managed  to 
protect  himself  from  the  cold  sufficiently  to  enable  him  to  make  many 
studies,  some  of  them  very  remarkable  in  color,  and  all  novel  and  interest- 
ing in  subjedt.  The  larger  part  of  his  studies  are  of  icebergs,  various  in 
their  forms,  some  resembling  grand  old  castles  and  ruins,  and  others  of 
odd  and  fantastic  shapes.  When  the  sun  falls  full  upon  them  their  color 
is  a pure  dazzling  white  ; but  the  portions  which  are  in  shade  are  blue,  or 
green,  or  purple,  fading  into  delicate  tints  of  gray,  and  shot  with  rays  of 
pink  and  saffron.  Indeed,  the  brilliant  colors  of  some  of  the  icebergs  were 
such  as  to  defy  the  pencil  of  the  artist  to  reproduce  them  on  canvas.  Be- 
sides studies,  of  icebergs,  Mr.  Bradford  sketched  the  floating  fields  of  ice, 
the  scenery  of  the  coast,  and  the  Esquimaux  and  their  habitations. 

“ The  better  to  enable  him  to  perfeCt  his  pictures,  especially  as  relates 
to  form  and  size,  Mr.  Bradford,  who  was  accompanied  by  an  excellent 
photographer,  obtained  a large  number  of  photographs  of  icebergs,  alike 
fine  specimens  of  the  art  and  pleasing  as  pictures.  He  also  took  a nurfi- 
ber  of  photographs  of  the  Moravian  missionaries  living  in  that  region. 
His  account  of  them  and  their  labors  is  exceedingly  interesting.  There 
are  four  stations  on  the  coast ; and  with  the  exception  of  the  first  or  lower 
settlement,  which  is  annually  visited  by  fur-traders  and  fishermen,  whose 
teachings  and  practices  are  far  from  being  Christianlike,  the  missions 
are  encouragingly  successful.  One  of  the  missionaries  had  been  there 
twenty-two  years  without  going  home,  and  another  had  been  there  over 
thirty  years,  visiting  Germany  once,  however,  in  that  period,  to  take  to 
himself  a wife.  They  and  their  wives  are  all  Germans  ; and  Mr.  Bradford 
regards  them  as  the  most  self-denying  people  he  has  ever  met  ; and  their 
Christian  faith,  as  evinced  in  their  self-abnegation  in  that  inhospitable 
country,  worthy  of  high  praise.  His  description,  too,  of  the  Esquimaux, 
their  customs  and  manners  of  living,  is  graphic  and  entertaining.” 

His  pictures,  associated  as  they  are  with  the  bleakly-beautiful  regions 
of  that  “ stern  and  rock-bound  coast,”  whence  the  fisheries  which  origi- 
nally so  enriched  New  England  took  their  rise,  and  whence  so  many  of  her 
eminent  merchants  emigrated  to  the  cities,  have  a special  charm  for  dwell- 
ers by  the  sea  and  the  prosperous  votaries  of  commerce,  as  well  as  for 
the  lovers  of  nature  and  the  summer  habitues  of  the  beaches  and  islands 
of  the  Eastern  States.  Whittier  has  paid  an  eloquent  tribute  to  his  artist- 
friend,  in  a poem  suggested  by  one  of  his  marine  landscapes.  It  is  a 
curious  illustration  of  the  modification  which  time  and  the  spirit  of  the  age 
have  made  in  the  relation  of  the  Society  of  Friends  to  literature  and 


American  Artist  Life.  ■ 


art,  that  a Quaker  poet  should  thus  address  a Quaker  painter  in  “ war- 
time ” : — 


To  W.  B. 

And  while,  with  hearts  of  thankfulness,  we  bear 
Of  the  great  common  burden  our  full  share, 

Let  none  upbraid  us  that  the  waves  entice 
Thy  sea-dipped  pencil,  or  some  quaint  device, 

Rhythmic  and  sweet,  beguiles  my  pen  away 
From  the  sharp  strifes  and  sorrows  of  to-day. 

< Thus,  while  the  east  wind  keen  from  Labrador 

Sings  in  the  leafless  elms,  and  from  the  shore 
Of  the  great  sea  comes  the  monotonous  roar 
Of  the  long-breaking  surf,  and  all  the  sky 
Is  gray  with  cloud,  home-bound  and  dull,  I try 
To  time  a simple  legend  to  the  sounds 
Of  winds  in  the  woods,  and  waves  on  pebbled  bounds — 
A song  of  breeze  and  billow,  such  as  might 
Be  sung  by  tired  sea-painters,  who  at  night 
Look  from  their  hemlock  camps,  by  quiet  cove 
Or  beach,  moon-lighted,  on  the  waves  they  love. 

(So  hast  thou  looked,  when  level  sunset  lay 
On  the  calm  bosom  of  some  eastern  bay, 

And  all  the  spray-moist  rocks  and  waves  that  rolled 
Up  the  white  sand-slopes  flashed  with  ruddy  gold.) 
Something  it  has — a flavor  of  the  sea, 

And  the  sea’s  freedom — which  reminds  of  thee. 

Its  faded  picture,  dimly  smiling  down 
• From  the  blurred  fresco  of  the  ancient  town, 

I have  not  touched  with  warmer  tints  in  vain, 

If,  in  this  dark,  sad  year,  it  steals  one  thought  from  pain. 


Many  of  Bradford’s  pictures  have  been  photographed.  A few  of  his 
subjects  will  indicate  the  scope  and  tendency  of  his  pencil.  “The  Island 
of  Great  Manan  ; ” “ Fishing-Boats  getting  under  Way  ; ” “ Fishing-Boats 
at  Anchor — Hailing  the  Sloop  in  Martha’s  Vineyard  ; ” “ Shipwreck  off 
Nantucket ; ” “ Lighthouse  in  St.  John’s  Harbor  ; ” “ Fishing-Boat  in  Bay 
of  Fundy — Sudden  Squall  there  ; ” “ A Stiff  Breeze  in  the  Harbor  of  East- 
port  ; ” “ Boarding  the  Sloop,”  etc. 

One  of  the  results  of  his  recent  northern  trip  is  a picture  of  “ The  Coast 
of  Labrador,”  with  high,  rocky  shores.  A dismantled  hull  lies  beached 
upon  the  sands,  and  the  effedt  of  the  sunlight  flung  upon  the  water  is  un- 
usually brilliant. 

William  S.  Haseltine  gives  ample  evidence  of  his  Diisseldorf  studies, 
whereof  the  corredt  drawing  and  patient  elaboration  are  more  desirable 
than  the  color — although  herein  also  he  has  often  notably 
Haseltine.  excelled.  Few  of  our  artists  have  been  more  conscien- 
tious in  the  delineation  of  rocks  ; their  form,  superficial 
traits,  and  precise  tone  are  given  with  remarkable  accuracy.  His  pencil 
identifies  coast  scenery  with  emphatic  beauty  ; the  shores  of  Naples  and 
Ostia,  and  those  of  Narragansett  Bay,  are  full  of  minute  individuality, 
wherein  one  familiar  with  both,  and  a good  observer,  will  find  rare  pleasure  ; 
it  is  the  same  with  “ Amalfi  ” and  “ Indian  Rock  ” — Italy  and  America  are, 


Lan  dsc  ape-Pa  in  ters. 


557 


as  it  were,  embodied  in  the  authentic  tints  of  these  rock-portraits  set  in  the 
deep  blue  crystalline  of  the  sea.  The  waves  that  roll  in  upon  his  Rhode 
Island  crags  look  like  old  and  cheery  friends  to  the  fond  haunters  of  those 
shores  in  summer.  The  very  sky  looks  like  the  identical  one  beneath  which 
we  have  watched  and  wandered  ; while  there  is  a history  to  the  imagina- 
tion in  every  brown  angle-projeCting  slab,  worn,  broken,  ocean-mined  and 
sun-painted  ledge  of  the  brown  and  piCturesquely-heaped  rocks,  at  whose 
feet  the  clear,  green  waters  plash  : they  speak  to  the  eye  of  science  of  a 
volcanic  birth  and  the  antiquity  of  man,  and  with  their  surroundings,  dis- 
tinctly and,  as  it  were,  personally,  appeal  to  the  lover  of  nature  for  recog- 
nition or  reminiscence. 

One  of  Haseltine’s  best  pictures  of  the  Eastern  coast  belongs  to  Dorman 
Eaton,  Esq.,  of  New  York;  another  to  C.  E.  Habicht,  Esq.  “Indian 
Rock,”  Narragansett,  and  “ Castle  Rock,”  Nahant.  are  in  the  collection  of 
J.  Taylor  Johnston,  Esq.,  of  New  York  ; and  “ Seconet  Point”  belongs  to 
R.  M.  Olyphant,  Esq.  Haseltine’s  Capri  subjects,  and  those  painted  in 
Normandy,  are  very  true  to  local  atmospheric  and  geological  traits. 

John  Williamson  was  born  in  Tollcross,  near  Glasgow,  Scotland,  on  the 
ioth  of  April,  1826,  and  emigrated  to  this  country  in  1831.  His  most  nota- 
ble pictures  are  “ Autumn  in  the  Adirondacks,”  owned  by 
E.  J.  Lowber,  Esq.  ; “ Trout  Fishing,”  in  the  possession  Williamson, 
of  Isaac  Van  Anden,  Esq. ; “American  Fruit,”  and  “The 
Summit  of  Chocora  by  Twilight.”  This  gentleman  has  been  an  efficient 
coadjutor  of  Gignoux  and  Hubbard  in  promoting  the  objeCts  of  the 
Brooklyn  Art  Association,  of  which  he  is  the  secretary. 

John  Bunyan  Bristol  was  born  at  Hillsdale,  New  York,  March  14,  1824. 
The  first  part  of  his  artist  life  was  a struggle  without  aid,  instruction,  or 
sympathy.  Three  or  four  weeks  were  spent  with  Henry 
Ary,  a portrait  painter  at  Hudson,  N.  Y.,  which  consti-  Bristol, 
tuted  the  whole  time  given  to  instruction.  Living  in  the 
country,  nature  was  the  school  and  the  master. 

In  1859  he  ma-de  a visit  to  Florida,  where,  about  the  St.  John’s  and  at 
St.  Augustine,  he  gathered  material  for  a number  of  semi-tropical  pictures — 
among  which  was  an  “Afternoon  on  the  St.  John’s,”  perhaps  one  of  the 
most  popular.  In  1862  he  married  a daughter  of  Alanson  Church,  of  Great 
Barrington,  Mass.,  since  which  time  his  home  has  been  in  New  York, 
spending  his  summers  in  New  England  and  various  parts  of  the  Northern 
States.  Scenes  from  the  banks  of  the  Green  River,  along  the  Housatonic 
Valley,  and  about  the  wild  region  of  Bash-Bish,  have  occupied  much  of 
his’  time. 

Occasionally,  a trip  to  Lakes  George  and  Champlain,  and  to  the  moun- 
tains in  Vermont,  have  furnished  him  material  for  such  pictures  as  “ An 
Autumn  Afternoon  near  Bolton,  Lake  George,”  “ Mansfield  Mountain  at 
Sunrise,”  and  the  “ Adirondacks  from  Lake  Champlain.”  One  of  his  more 
recent  works  is  entitled,  “ An  Afternoon  in  Haying-Time,  Berkshire  County, 
Mass.” 


558 


American  Artist  Life. 


A modest  and  assiduous  artist,  Bristol  has  somewhat  of  Ivensett’s  re- 
pose in  his  best  landscapes,  some  of  which,  besides  accuracy  in  detail  and 
true  effeCt  in  generalization,  exhibit  a genuine  sentiment  which  elevates 
their  imitative  truth. 

John  E.  Tilton  has  gained  quite  a large  number  of  admirers  for  a kind 
of  landscape  which  has  special  attractions  for  the  imaginative  ; it  deals 
with  the  more  evanescent  and  characteristic  traits  of  lo- 
Tilton.  cal  atmosphere  : two  subjects  especially  have  been  thus 
rendered  by  Tilton  again  and  again,  with  a peculiar  effect- 
iveness all  his  own — Rome  and  Venice,  over  which  venerable  and  memor- 
able cities  he  flings  the  veil  of  mist  and  sunshine, that  wreathes  them  with 
a kind  of  poetical  and  suggestive  charm,  vague  indeed,  but  on  that  very 
account,  pleasing  in  certain  moods  of  mind,  and  true  to  a phase  with  which 
every  one  who  has  long  sojourned  in  Italy  is  familiar.  A very  strong  light 
is  requisite  to  perceive  the  real  merit  of  Tilton’s  landscapes  ; in  some  of 
them  he  has  sacrificed  distinctness  too  absolutely,  while  in  others  his  suc- 
cess is  remarkable. 

Hence,  while  some  critics  compare  him  with  Claude  and  Turner,  others, 
like  Jarves,  unjustly  declare  him  a “ weak  sentimentalist  in  color,  having  no 
solid  foundation  of  knowledge  or  inventive  force.”  The  “ Bays  of  Baiae  and 
Naples  ” is  one  of  the  artist’s  best  pictures,  and  was  greatly  admired  at 
Rome.  The  distant  Vesuvius,  with  the  coast  of  Sorrento  and  Capri,  the 
blue  waters  of  the  bay,  and  the  beauty  of  the  sky,  are  most  faithfully  and 
artistically  rendered.  “ The  Bernese  Alps,”  with  the  lake  at  their  base,  is 
full  of  a ghostly  charm.  “ The  Fishing-Boats  of  Venice,”  with  their  gayly 
colored  sails,  and  the  “ Campagna  Scene,”  with  its  ruined  slave-tower  and 
snow-tipped  hills,  are  very  attractive.  Another  of  his  favorite  subjects  is 
Paestum — those  beautiful  ruins — among  the  finest  existing  architectural  re- 
mains of  Graeco-Roman  magnificence — occupying  the  site  of  the  ancient 
city  of  Lucania,  now  an  uninhabited  plain  near  the  shore  of  the  Gulf  of 
Salerno  ; — a charming  picture,  which  fascinates  the  more  it  is  looked  at. 
How  well  the  artist  has  caught  that  soft,  sleepy,  luminous  haze  so  peculiar 
to  the  Italian  climate  ! 

“ Lake  Nemi,”  the  “ Grand  Canal  of  Venice,”  “ Rome  seen  over  the  Cam- 
pagna, and  including  the  Sabine  Hills,”  and  another  “ Campagna  landscape 
with  the  bridge  of  Mammalus,”  are  among  the  subjects  which  Tilton  has 
treated  with  effeCt  and  interest  ; the  latter  work  contrasts  with  Poussin’s 
devoted  to  the  same  scene  in  the  Doria  palace  ; the  American  artist  gives 
us  the  twilight  hues,  the  subtle  mists,  the  vague,  sunny,  tremulous  atmos- 
phere which  bathes  and  suffuses  the  architecture,  waters,  and  mountains  of 
Southern  Europe  with  so  mystical  a veil.  In  the  instances  where  he  has 
best  succeeded,  unless  the  picture  is  seen  in  a strong  light,  its  details  cannot 
be  made  out ; the  landscape  which  in  a certain  mood  may  take  the  eye  and 
imagination  in  his  studio  at  Rome,  when  hung  in  a dark  parlor  in  America 
often  becomes  totally  ineffective.  Moreover,  there  is  not  always  a just  rela- 
tion between  the  atmospheric  effeCts  and  the  substantial  objeCts  ; so  that  rare 


Landscape-P  ainters . 


559 


skill  in  the  former  may  not  alone  render  the  work,  as  a whole,  satisfactory. 
Tilton  reminds  us  of  those  poets  whose  sentiment  and  imagination  are 
aCtive  to  a degree  out  of  proportion  to  their  refleCtive  and  logical  powers. 
That  he  has  a remarkable  feeling  for  color,  a rare  ability  to  represent  the 
effeCts  of  sunshine  and  vapor,  is  undeniable  ; and  sometimes  he  succeeds 
in  exhibiting  this  ability  in  combination  with  the  other  requisites  for  land- 
scape art ; but  sometimes,  again,  this  harmony  and  congruity  has  not  been 
achieved,  and,  therefore,  it  is  not  surprising  that  critics  disagree  in  regard 
to  his  merits.  Yet  we  have  seen  a view  of  Rome,  and  one  of  Venice  at 
sunset,  by  Tilton,  the  first  impression  whereof  was  vague  and  dim  ; but,  in 
a strong  light,  and  contemplatively  regarded,  they  have  proved  the  most 
striking,  true,  and  illusive  representations  of  those  memorable  cities,  ap- 
pealing to  memory  through  the  eye  and  imagination,  and  bringing  home  to 
the  senses  and  the  heart  the  solemn,  golden  light  that  broods  over  their 
distant  aspeCfc,  with  all  the  soft,  luminous,  and  vague  beauty  of  the  real  scene. 
Tilton’s  light-studies  may  be  fairly  included  in  the  original  triumphs  of 
American  landscape  art. 

An  elaborate  view  of  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar,  exhibited  by  Samuel  Col- 
man,  suggested  a broader  scope  of  landscape  talent  than  his  many  exquisite 
delineations  of  home  scenery  previously  hinted.  Within 
a few  months  a more  familiar  scene,  from  the  same  true  Colman. 
and  delicate  pencil,  confirmed  the  high  promise  of  this 
picture.  u Tow-Boats  on  the  Hudson”  is  fine  in  color;  the  water  is  ad- 
mirably represented  ; so  are  the  mountains  : whoever  has  watched  the 
tow-boats  from  the  shore  at  Newburgh  on  a summer  morning,  will  recognize 
with  delight  the  delicacy  and  truth  of  this  work  in  local  details  and  nat- 
ural effeCts. 

Colman’s  parents  were  both  lovers  of  the  beautiful ; his  father  was  long 
a bookseller  and  publisher,  and  brought  out  in  attractive  style  some  of  the 
early  productions  of  Longfellow  and  Willis  ; he  was  one  of  the  first  taste- 
ful dealers  in  fine  engravings  in  New  York,  and  his  store  in  Broadway 
was  an  unique  depository  of  pictures,  and  a favorite  resort  of  artists  and 
litterateurs ; associated  with  the  Swedenborgians,  a seCt  remarkable  for 
aesthetic  proclivities,  and  with  artists  and  authors,  the  sphere  of  his  son’s 
early  life  was  highly  favorable  to  ideal  development.  The  first  illustrated 
volumes  of  American  verse  were  published  by  Samuel  Colman,  and  his 
son  must  have  been  familiar,  in  boyhood,  with  the  most  seleCt  specimens  of 
foreign  illustrated  works  ; he  inherited  a refined  organization,  and  a fine 
sense  of  the  beautiful. 

Another  fine  picture  by  this  artist  is  an  Autumn  scene.  The  spectator 
looks  eastward  across  a lovely  foreground,  in  which  the  autumn-tinted  trees 
are  grouped,  with  genuine  artistic  feeling,  into  a sweetly -painted  distance, 
where  the  eye  catches  the  gleam  of  water,  touched  by  the  beams  of  the 
rising  moon.  Every  portion  of  the  picture  is  finished  with  the  greatest 
care  and  attention  ; yet  there  is  in  it  nothing  hard.  It  is  full  of  the  melan- 
choly but  sweet  poetry  of  autumn.  The  grouping  of  the  trees  on  the  right 


560  American  Artist  Life. 

hand  is  skilfully  managed,  and  the  coloring  is  throughout  beautiful,  del- 
icate, and  harmonious. 

Many  interesting  scenes  from  along  the  Cornice  road,  studied  with  much 
care,  and  several  landscapes,  representing  the  scenery  and  cities  of  Spain, 
are  remarkable  for  accuracy  in  form  and  tint,  and  for  refinement  and  truth  of 
treatment.  The  delicacy  of  this  artist  contrasts  strongly  and  perhaps  unpros- 
perously  with  the  more  material  attractions  of  our  popular  landscape-painters  ; 
but  to  the  eye  of  refined  taste,  to  the  quiet  lover  of  nature,  there  is  a peculiar 
charm  in  Colman’s  style  which,  sooner  or  later,  will  be  widely  appreciated. 

His  “ Lake  George  ” belongs  to  C.  T.  Howard  ; his  “ Street  Scene  in 
Seville”  and  “Conway  Valley”  to  G.  S.  Stephenson;  his  “Harbor  of 
Seville  ” and  “ Barges  on  the  Hudson  ” to  J.  Taylor  Johnston. 

“A  naked  mountain  rock,  surrounded  by  water,”  says  a critic,  alluding 
to  Colman’s  “ Bay  of  Gibraltar,”  “ is  not  a promising  objeCt  for  picturesque 
treatment.  Turner,  in  his  admirable  picture,  has  made  it  almost  a subor- 
dinate objeCt,  struggling  for  notice  amidst  a splendid  array  of  sunlit  clouds 
and  sea.  Achenbach,  in  a work  of  scarcely  inferior  merit,  well  known  to 
the  New  York  public,  depiCts  the  rock  as  a distant  objeCt,  darkly  glooming 
in  a stormy  sky.  But  Colman,  not  caring  to  follow  either  of  these  dis- 
tinguished precedents,  shows  us  the  grand  old  historical  monument  as  it 
appears  on  a tranquil  summer’s  day,  lifting  its  majestic  summit  from  a 
calm,  unruffled  sea,  into  a serene  and  cloudless  sky,  and  glowing  in  the 
golden  rays  of  the  noonday  sun.  We  regard  the  picture  as  a splendid 
success.  While  it  does  not  lack  in  the  poetical  treatment  of  its  great  com- 
petitors, it  has  also  all  the  fidelity  to  the  aCtual  that  we  could  desire.  The 
town  and  craft  at  the  base  of  the  rock,  the  fortifications,  the  geological 
formation,  the  incidents  of  the  busy  neighboring  shore,  from  which  it  is 
seen,  all  are  carefully  rendered.” 

This  artist  was  one  of  the  first  of  our  landscape-painters  to  render  fore- 
grounds with  care  and  fidelity.  His  first  exhibited  work  gained  him  recogni- 
tion. It  was  a study  of  wild  flowers  and  grasses,  elaborately 
Shattuck.  true  in  details,  and  yet  imbued  with  feeling.  He  is  exadt, 
graceful,  and  often  effective  ; there  is  a true  pastoral  vein  in 
him  ; his  best  cattle  and  water  scenes,  with  meadow  and  trees,  are  eloquent 
of  repose  and  of  nature  to  a degree  and  in  a manner  that  often  places  the 
spectator  in  relation  with  what  he  unconsciously  adopts  as  a personal  re- 
miniscence of  scenery  ; this  is  partly  owing  to  Shattuck’s  subjects — often 
drawn  from  the  familiar  and  endeared  valley  of  the  Housatonic.  “Sunset 
on  the  Lake  ” is  a very  attractive  example  of  this  artist’s  manner  ; it  ap- 
peals to  a sentiment  which  all  lovers  of  American  scenery  can  appreciate  ; 
a peaceful  glow,  a splendid  sunset,  a calm  expanse  of  water  with  little 
islands,  the  misty  atmosphere  of  the  distant  shore,  are  all  a genuine  reflex 
of  native  local  traits.  He  has  also  painted  spirited  sea-coast  scenes,  a fine 
“ Glimpse  of  Lake  Champlain,”  and  a beautiful  “ Autumnal  View  of  Andros- 
coggin scenery,  with  the  White  Mountains  in  the  distance.” 

A.  D.  Shattuck  is  a brother-in-law  of  Samuel  Colman.  He  was  born  in 


Landscape-Painters. 


561 

Francestown,  N.  H.,  March  9,  1832.  At  the  age  of  ten  he  removed  with 
his  parents  to  Lowell,  Mass.,  and  at  nineteen  began  to  paint  portraits  in 
Boston  with  Alexander  Ransom  ; accompanied  him  to  New  York,  studied 
at  the  Academy  there,  visited  the  White  Mountains,  and  returned  and 
opened  a studio  in  New  York.  He  first  exhibited  at  the  National  Academy 
in  1856,  was  favorably  noticed,  and  in  1861  was  eledted  Academician. 

A pleasing  evidence  of  the  genuine  sentiment  and  authentic  execution 
of  our  landscape  painters  was  manifest  in  the  simultaneous  exhibition, 
preparatory  to  the  sale  of  a selection  from  the  pictures  of  Shattuck,  McEntee 
and  Colman,  two  or  three  years  since.  Representatives  of  the  American 
school,  genuine  lovers  of  nature,  and  patient  students  of  her  charms,  these 
young  artists  began  their  career  about  the  same  time  ; they  have  grown, 
as  it  were,  side  by  side  in  public  estimation,  and  gradually  acquired  a circle 
of  mutual  admirers  ; and  yet,  while  equally  remarkable  for  truth  of  delinea- 
tion and  purity  of  feeling,  there  is  just  enough  individuality  of  taste  and 
execution  to  give  a relishing  diversity  to  the  works  of  those  artists,  without 
provoking  the  slightest  invidious  comparison.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
the  subjects  of  their  pictures.  Thus,  Shattuck  excels  in  the  local  traits, 
McEntee  in  those  of  the  seasons,  and  Colman  in  a peculiar  sentiment 
which  partakes  of  both.  The  latter’s  Spanish  subjects  contributed  to  the 
variety  and  interest  of  the  exhibition  : he  gives  us  veritable  bits  of  sunny 
and  sombre  Spain — her  coast,  suburban,  and  feudal  architecture  ; while 
McEntee  brings  home,  as  if  it  were  a particular  and  personal  reminiscence, 
the  feeling  and  fadt  of  the  several  seasons,  from  the  advent  of  the  first 
blue-bird  to  the  flight  of  the  last  swallow,  and  from  the  vague  grandeur  of 
a misty  summer  morning  in  the  Adirondacks,  to  the  cold,  gray,  glinting 
tints  of  a skating-scene  on  a wintry  afternoon. 

The  veracity  of  Shattuck’s  rendering  was  equally  striking,  whether  his 
pencil  is  at  work  on  the  Androscoggin,  or  near  the  Housatonic,  among  the 
White  Mountains,  or  on  the  borders  of  Lake  Champlain.  The  trees,  skies, 
rocks,  waters,  and  whole  tone,  in  each  instance,  are  singularly,  naively  true 
to  the  local  tints  and  forms.  If  McEntee  excels  in  the  wild  vigor  or  subtle 
grace  of  conception,  whereby  we  obtain  the  sensation  of  the  season  and 
the  scene  with  almost  dramatic  vividness,  Shattuck  imparts  a rural  feeling 
so  genial  and  genuine  that  we  seem  transported  to  the  very  spot  he  repre- 
sents ; while  Colman  has  a touch  of  sentiment,  a mellow  tabt  and  beauty, 
which  charm  us  with  idyllic  suggestions.  In  short,  the  combined  inspira- 
tion of  the  three  limners  has  nothing  discordant,  but  a peculiar  harmony, 
which  proves  that  they  have  all  looked  on  Nature  with  eyes  of  true  love, 
and  sought  to  reproduce  her  language  with  the  simplicity  and  the  faith  of 
genuine  votaries  and  true  disciples. 

C.  C.  Griswold  was  born  in  Delaware,  Ohio,  in  the  year  1834  ; he  is  a 
descendant  of  the  family  of  Griswolds  of  Simsbury,  Connecticut.  His 
grandfather,  Ezra  Griswold,  was  a brother  of  Bishop  Gris- 
wold, formerly  Episcopal  Bishop  of  the  Eastern  diocese,  Griswold, 
composed  of  the  States  of  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island? 

36 


562 


American  Artist  Life. 


Vermont,  and  New  Hampshire.  His  grandfather  removed  to  Ohio  in  the 
year  1803,  with  his  family;  his  father,  Ezra  Griswold,  Jr.,  being  then  a lad 
of  eleven  or  twelve  years  of  age.  The  latter  was  of  a literary  turn  and 
was  connected  with  several  of  the  early  newspapers  of  Ohio,  and  among 
others,  assisted  in  editing  and  publishing  the  first  newspaper  ever  printed 
in  Columbus,  the  present  capital,  which,  probably,  was  the  first  printed  in 
the  State. 

The  artist  is  the  youngest  of  five  brothers,  all  of  whom  showed  in  child- 
hood nearly  equal  talent  for  drawing,  though  only  one,  besides  himself, 
adopted  painting  as  a vocation.  His  boyhood,  in  other  respedts,  was  not 
different  from  that  of  other  village  boys  of  that  time,  except,  perhaps,  that 
he  was  more  fond  of  books  and  study,  and  entertained  a greater  hatred  of 
schools  and  teachers  than  most  of  his  companions.  His  earliest  efforts 
were  noticed  and  encouraged  chiefly  by  the  artist  brother  above  referred 
to,  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  all  he  knew  of  art  up  to  the  time  he  left 
home,  at  about  the  age  of  seventeen,  to  learn  wood-engraving  in  Cincinnati, 
Ohio.  He  came  to  New  York  with  his  employer  in  the  autumn  of  1850. 
After  various  vicissitudes  and  discouragements,  he  finally  determined  to 
become  a painter,  and  made  his  first  appearance  as  an  exhibitor  at  the 
National  Academy  of  Design  in  1857.  Since  that  time  he  has  resided, 
most  of  the  time,  in  New  York,  and  has  been  represented  in  nearly  every 
Exhibition  of  the  Academy.  He  never  had  a teacher  except  the  brother 
above  alluded  to,  but  slowly  gathered  what  knowledge  of  art  he  possessed, 
in  his  own  way,  by  observation  and  study  of  nature  and  of  pictures.  He 
was  made  a member  of  the  Artists’  Fund  Society  at  its  formation  in  1859, 
and  was  elected  Associate  of  the  Academy  in  1866,  and  Academician  in 
May,  1867. 

The  pictures  which  are  considered  his  best  are,  “ December,”  exhibited 
in  1864  ; “A  Winter  Morning,”  in  1865  ; “ The  Last  of  the  Ice,”  in  1866  ; 
and  “ An  August  Day,  Newport.” 

Simple,  truthful,  and  tender  in  feeling,  the  works  of  this  artist  have  grown 
in  public  estimation  and  artistic  promise.  In  his  “Autumnal  Scene,”  the 
foreground  is  a well-painted  stubble-field,  from  which  the  grain  has  just 
been  gathered.  A fine  group  of  elms  stands  in  the  centre,  beyond  whose 
branches  we  catch  a glimpse  of  a church  spire  in  the  distance.  A shower 
is  just  passing  away,  and  the  atmosphere  is  cool  and  clear.  The  effedt  is 
exceedingly  well  rendered  ; and  in  the  beautiful  pidture  called  “ The  Last  of 
the  Ice,”  which  was  exhibited  at  the  Academy  recently,  the  effedt  of  the 
mist  hanging  upon  the  highlands  is  most  truthfully  given. 

Winckworth  Allan  Gay  is  one  of  those  landscape-painters  to  whom  the 
pursuit  is  a delight,  and  being  so,  is  not  made  subservient  to  any  mercenary 
or  sensational  end,  but  followed  with  quiet  and  patient  de- 
Gay.  votion,  and  in  simplicity  and  truth.  Accordingly,  Gay  has 
been  contented  to  delineate  nature  in  her  most  familiar 
aspedt,  feeling  no  necessity  to  go  far  in  search  of  the  pidturesque,  and 
contentedly  transferring  to  canvas  the  scenes  most  near  and  dear  to  him. 


L andscape-Pa  in  ters. 


563 

He  is  a native  of  Hingham,  Mass.,  born  August  19,  1821.  Love  of 
drawing  was  an  instinCt  of  the  family,  a natural  taste  ; but  this  very  faCt 
might  have  postponed  or  interfered  with  the  adoption  of  the  artistic  career 
in  his  case,  had  not  a lady  well  known  in  New  England  for  her  educational 
zeal  and  good  sense,  Miss  Eliza  Robbins,  been  so  struck  with  the  promise 
exhibited  in  the  youth’s  drawings,  that  she  urged  his  father  to  let  him 
become  a painter  ; and  suggested  that  he  should  go  to  West  Point  and 
study  with  Professor  Weir.  She  brought  about  a correspondence  between 
the  latter  and  Gay’s  father,  the  result  of  which  was  that  Allan  became  a 
member  of  Weir’s  family,  and  there  acquired  the  technical  knowledge  of 
his  art.  He  then  went  abroad,  became  a disciple  of  the  modern  French 
school,  and  studied  with  Troyon,  in  Paris.  The  fruit  of  this  teaching  is 
apparent  in  Gay’s  pictures  ; it  essentially  formed  his  style.  He  passed 
some  time  abroad,  chiefly  in  Paris  and  Italy  ; returned  home,  and  opened  a 
studio.  Gay  is  a contemplative  rather  than  an  enterprising  artist ; he  loves 
his  art  for  its  own  sake,  and  follows  it  in  a modest  and  loyal  spirit.  He 
ranks  deservedly  high  both  with  artists  and  the  public.  His  landscapes 
are  remarkable  for  their  simplicity  and  truth  ; many  of  them  illustrate  the 
scenes  of  his  birth-place  and  home,  and  its  vicinity.  It  may  be  only  an 
apple-tree,  a lane,  a brook,  studies  along  the  Cohasset  shore,  a meadow,  or 
roadside  ; but,  whatever  the  subject,  it  is  full  of  accurate  details,  with  good 
breadth,  and  truthful  in  color  and  drawing.  One  of  his  pictures,  “ Mount 
Washington,”  and  another  called  “ Near  I?ontainebleau,”  well  exemplify  his 
style.  Most  of  his  landscapes  are  in  Boston  and  the  vicinity,  where  they, 
as  well  as  the  artist,  are  highly  esteemed.  “ I do  not  know,”  says  a critic, 
“ an  American  painter  whose  work  gives  a stronger  impression  of  indi- 
vidual study  of  landscape,  than  Gay.  His  pictures,  if  they  could  be  col- 
lected, would  give  a kind  of  encyclopaedic  impression  of  a part  of  Massa- 
chusetts,— and  by  their  truth,  beauty,  grandeur,  and  loveliness,  would  ex- 
plain the  strong  feeling  it  awakened  in  the  minds  of  Hawthorne,  Thoreau. 
Emerson,  and  Dana.” 

Quite  diverse  from  the  exactitude  and  vivid  forest  tints  of  many  of  our 
Eastern  painters,  are  the  southern  efifeCts  so  remarkably  rendered  by  Louis 
R.  Mignot,  whose  nativity,  temperament,  and  taste  combine 
to  make  him  the  efficient  delineator  of  tropical  atmosphere  Mignot. 
and  vegetation.  At  home  and  abroad  his  best  land- 
scapes have  won  admiration  ; in  evidence  whereof  may  be  cited  the  ready 
and  liberal  prices  given  even  for  his  studies  and  sketches  at  the  sale  which 
took  place  in  New  York  before  his  departure  for  Europe,  and  the  warm 
commendation  of  the  foreign  critics.  He  has  a remarkable  facility  of 
catching  the  expression,  often  the  vague,  but,  therefore,  more  interesting, 
expression  of  a scene  ; he  seizes  upon  the  latent  as  well  as  the  pro- 
minent efleCls.  He  is  a master  of  color,  and  some  of  his  atmospheric 
experiments  are  wonderful.  Compare  one  of  his  winter  with  one  of 
his  tropical  scenes,  and  the  absolute  truth  of  his  manner  and  method 
becomes  impressive.  Of  a little  picture  of  the  former  kind,  which  was 


American  Artist  Life. 


364 

recently  exhibited  at  the  British  Institution,  a critic  says  in  a London 
journal : “ This  is  a gem  ; there  is  nothing  to  be  said  about  it,  but  that  it 
is  the  most  complete  little  work  in  the  room.  We  recognize  at  once  its 
naturalness,  not  merely  in  passages,  but  in  the  harmonious  treatment  of  the 
whole.”  This  estimate  applies  to  many  of  Mignot’s  landscapes.  He  is 
appreciated  by  many,  however,  rather  for  the  brilliancy  of  his  coloring,  the 
mellow  and  glowing  light  of  his  tropical  scenes,  than  on  account  of  the 
harmony  and  truth  of  his  more  subdued  pictures.  That  the  two  claims  to 
praise  and  sympathy  should  be  united  in  one  artist,  is  no  small  tribute  to 
his  skill  and  insight.  The  “ Lagoon  of  Guayaquil,”  and  “ Harvesting,” 
“ Twilight  in  the  Tropics,”  and  “ Lamona,”  giving  the  brilliant  sunset  hues 
and  the  modified  yet  radiant  light  of  those  regions,  and  the  vital  tints  of  their 
vegetation  are  memorable  exemplars  of  local  color  and  tropical  nature. 
The  artist’s  affinity  therewith  will  find  new  and  original  scope  in  India, 
whither  it  is  said  he  purposes  to  go,  in  search  of  new  and  congenial  sub- 
jects. His  “ Evening  in  the  Tropics  ” represents  a chapel  on  the  border 
of  a lake,  and  worshippers  passing  in  to  vespers.  The  evening  star  is 
shining,  and  is  reflected  in  the  form  of  a cross  on  the  water.  A cocoa-nut 
palm  rises  at  the  left  of  the  picture,  and  a boat  floats  in  the  lake  near  by, 
suggesting  “ Ave  Maria  ! ” — 

“ How  gently  sinks  the  evening  sun, 

That  speaks  a day  of  duty  done, 

And  bids  us  rest  from  care  : 

How  sweet  the  parting  hour  of  day, 

As  twilight  shrouds  the  glimmering  ray, 

And  tells  the  hour  of  prayer. 

Sacred  the  scene — the  spot  more  dear  : 

’Tis  holy  ground — for  God  is  here.” 

His  “ Southern  Harvest,”  with  its  golden  sheaves  and  red  moon,  is  memo- 
rable ; it  is  in  the  collection  of  R.  L.  Stuart,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  “ The 
Rusa”  and  “Tropical  Scenery”  belong  to  M.  O.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  New 
York;  “Passaic  Falls,”  to  Rutherford  Stuyvesant ; “Holland  Winter 
Scene,”  to  F.  E.  Church.  Of  “ The  Source  of  the  Susquehanna,”  sold  with 
the  Wright  collection,  it  has  been  said:  “A  grand  production.  This  is 
a powerful,  deeply  American  landscape.  Others  may  paint  what  may  be 
termed  cosmopolitan  scenes,  but  here  the  artist  has  dipped  his  brush  in 
the  ‘colors  of  America,’  stern  and  rough-hewn  as  her  face  is,  and  hard  as  a 
sculpture  in  bronze,  but  none  the  less  true  to  nature, — with  its  evergreens 
which  are  hardly  ever  quite  green,  its  deep  brown  streams,  and  its  skies 
blurred  and  blotted,  as  it  were,  with  lumps  of  cloud  edged  with  fire.” 
Mignot  is  Southern  not  only  in  color  and  subjects,  but  in  sympathy. 
He  is  a native  of  South  Carolina,  and  at  the  outbreak  of  the  slaveholder’s 
rebellion  left  New  York,  where  he  had  been  prosperously  established,  and 
crossed  the  Atlantic.  He  has  resided  for  some  years  in  London,  and  had 
a successful  career  ; among  his  warmest  patrons  is  a wealthy  gentleman  of 
taste,  who  is  the  present  owner  of  Horace  Walpole’s  famous  domain — 
Strawberry  Hill. 


L andscape-Painters. 


565 

James  Hamilton,  well  known  as  the  spirited  illustrator  of  Dr.  Kane’s 
Ardtic  Expedition,  came  to  the  United  States  from  Ireland  in  infancy. 
His  first  experiments  were  in  water-colors  : landscape,  es- 
pecially coast  scenes  in  oil,  soon  engaged  his  pencil  ; being  Hamilton, 
enthusiastic  and  assiduous,  he  gained  rapidly  in  the  esti- 
mation of  critics  and  lovers  of  art  in  Philadelphia,  where  he  was  established 
as  a marine  painter  : fond  of  contrast  and  effedt,  he  excelled  in  sea-fights  ; 
his  “ Capture  of  the  Serapis,”  and  “ Old  Ironsides,”  gained  no  little  com- 
mendation. The  former  pidture  has  been  vividly  described  by  one  of  the 
artists’  friends  : — 

“The  capture  of  the  Serapis  is,  of  course,  the  brilliant  historic  achieve- 
ments of  John  Paul  Jones  in  the  war  of  1812.  The  pidture  represents  a 
lovely,  placid  summer  night  ; a full  moon  floats  amid  a mass  of  cumulous 
clouds  ; there  is  just  a ripple  on  the  sea  in  which  the  moonlight  glints 
and  sparkles  ; in  the  distance,  groups  of  shipping  and  the  outline  of  the 
English  coast  loom  with  a soft,  shadowy  vagueness  ; all  the  accessories 
are  in  profoundest  repose.  Into  this  solemn  hush  of  night,  this  intense 
calm,  he  has  flung  the  roar  and  crash  and  carnage  of  that  terrible  sea-trag- 
edy. The  two  vessels  are  side  by  side  in  deadliest  grapple.  The  flames 
from  the  burning  Bonne  Homme  Richard ' red  and  ghastly  as  if  with  the  blood 
of  the  dead  below,  swirl  and  coil  about  the  masts  and  rigging,  and  stream 
far  up  into  the  heavens,  1 staining  the  white  radiance  ’ of  the  night.  Wild 
figures  rush  across  the  decks,  the  flash  of  the  guns  gleams  fierce  and  vin- 
dictive through  the  darker  flame  of  the  conflagration,  and  reflected  in  the 
water  beneath,  writhes  a distorted  repetition  of  the  lurid  scene.  Nothing 
could  be  finer  or  more  dramatic  than  the  contrast  of  sentiment  here.  The 
deadly  struggle  of  human  passion  below,  imparts  to  the  moonlight  an 
added  pitying  tenderness,  as  it  were,  and  the  moonlight  in  turn  enhances 
the  awfulness  of  the  tragedy.  In  this  pidture  the  human  element  is  adtive, 
nature  is  passive.  In  the  ‘ Old  Ironsides  ’ this  arrangement  is  reversed. 
The  subjedt  is  taken  from  the  following  lines  in  Dr.  Holmes’  poem  of  the 
same  title  : 

“ ‘ O better  that  her  shattered  hulk 

Should  sink  beneath  the  wave  ; 

Her  thunders  shook  the  mighty  deep. 

And  there  should  be  her  grave  ; 

Nail  to  the  mast  her  holy  flag, 

Set  every  threadbare  sail, 

And  give  her  to  the  god  of  storms, — 

The  lightning  and  the  gale  ! ’ ” 

Among  the  other  best-known  pidtures  of  Hamilton  are  “ An  Egyptian 
Sunset,”  “ Wrecked  Hopes,”  “A  Moonlight  Scene  near  Venice  ; ” a num- 
ber of  subjedts  from  the  Arabian  Nights,  and  a weird  pidture  illustrative 
of  Coleridge’s  Ancient  Mariner.  From  the  contrast  of  subjedts  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  scope  of  this  artist  ranges  from  the  most  serenely  imaginative 
to  the  wildest  natural  scenes.  His  style  is  bold  and  free  ; he  does  not  aim 
at  high  finish  ; he  is  the  reverse  of  literal,  and  aims  to  give  emphatically 
his  own  feeling  and  sense  of  a subjedt.  He  is  best  known  for  his  illustra- 


5^6  American  Artist  Life. 

tions  of  Dr.  Kane’s  book,  of  which  Blackwood’s  Magazine  says  : “ The 
engravings  of  Dr.  Kane’s  book  are  eminently  happy,  the  productions  of  a 
man  who  is  a real  poet  in  art,  and  invests  the  whole  work  with  a halo  of 
romance  mysterious  as  the  effeCts  of  light  in  those  northern  regions,  and 
which  could  scarcely  have  been  produced  by  the  power  of  words.” 

J.  R.  Brevoort’s  landscapes  are  broad  and  truthfully  characteristic  of 
American  scenery,  with  pleasing  atmospheric  effeCts  : his  recognition  of 
nature  seems,  as  yet,  in  advance  of  his  executive  skill ; 
Brevoort.  but  he  has  so  much  of  true  feeling  and  high  intention 
that  his  progress  is  obvious.  One  of  his  designs  to  illus- 
trate a poem,  exhibits  rare  feeling ; and  his  large  “ Harvest  Scene  with  a 
Storm  coming  up,”  shows  advancing  power  and  a fine  management  of  light. 

W.  L.  Sontag  came  to  New  York  from  Cincinnati  fifteen  years  ago; 
in  Ohio,  his  native  State,  he  has  sketched  and  studied ; but  some  of  his 
best  landscapes  illustrate  the  picturesque  scenery  of 
Sontag.  Western  Virginia  ; he  has  travelled  in  Europe,  and  painted 
some  memorable  Italian  views— compositions  embodying 
all  the  traits,  classic,  arborescent,  and  atmospheric,  with  much  accuracy  and 
emphasis.  Differing  from  many  of  our  landscape-artists,  he  has  a marked 
individuality  of  efifeCt  and  of  color. 

Bellows  often  puts  forth  graphic  and  pleasant  woodland  scenes  ; his 
“ Bye-Path,”  formerly  in  the  Wright  collection,  is  a good  specimen  ; and  so 
is  one  of  his  late  pictures,  a “ Day  in  the  Woods  with  a roam- 
Bellows.  ing,  youthful  party,”  the  green  vistas,  thickets  in  blossom, 
and  forest  light  and  shade. 

J.  F.  Cole  has  been  commended  for  true  gradations  in  color.  Gerry  has 
won  praise  in  a like  respeCt.  The  lake  scenes  of  Martin  and  the  meadow 
and  river  views  of  Henry  have  decided  and  progressive 
Various.  merit  and  character.  Sommers’  picture,  u Westward  Ho  ! 

or,  Crossing  the  Plains,”  is  a truthful  transcript  of  West- 
ern life.  The  figures  are  not  so  good  as  the  landscape,  but  they  are  life-like. 
Moran  and  Lewis,  of  Philadelphia,  have  decided  merit ; so  have  Lawrie, 
of  the  same  city,  C.  H.  Moore,  of  Catskill,  and  Johnston,  a pupil  of  Crop- 
sey’s.  Thompson,  of  Baltimore,  has  executed  some  remarkably  solid  and  pic- 
turesque landscapes,  and  Key,  of  the  same  city,  has  shown  much  talent  in 
his  picture  of  Fort  Sumter,  and  Hill  in  his  California  landscapes.  Whee- 
lock’s  water-color  studies  of  White  Mountain  scenery  are  skilful  and  true 
in  atmosphere.  Ellen  Robins,  an  el  eve  of  the  New  England  School  of 
Design,  has  received  orders  from  England  for  her  exquisite  water-colored 
autumn  leaves  and  American  wild  flowers. 

Space  will  not  permit  a just  analysis  of  the  numerous  landscape-painters 
who,  in  addition  to  those  we  have  attempted  to  describe  and  estimate,  have 
and  are  still  illustrating  the  art  among  us, — some  of  them  promising  begin- 
ners, and  others  well  known  for  certain  qualities  or  subjects.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  accomplished  foreign  painters  in  this  department,  Hope’s 
highly  finished  details  of  forest  and  vegetation,  Wust’s  vigorous  Norway 


Landscape-Painters . 


567 

mountain  scenery,  Melby’s  delicate  and  true  pencil,  Volmering  so  strong 
in  trees, — the  fruit,  flower,  and  scenic  limners  of  some  other  lands, — we 
have  the  two  Smilies,  whose  highly-finished  landscapes  are  so  creditable  ; 
R.  Swain  Gilford’s  effective  coast  scenes  ; Oddie,  Mason,  Pallison,  Tal- 
bot, Lowrie,  Waugh,  Dolph,  Jameson,  Moore,  Laurie,  Moran,  Ordway, 
Cannon,  Champney,  Williams,  Jerome  Thompson,  Richardson,  Bunt,  E. 
W.  Hall,  Parkman,  Wilkinson,  Shaw,  Robbins,  Peckham,  and  others. 
A recent  letter  from  Italy  speaks  of  a fresh  candidate  for  landscape 
fame  : — 

“ Another  American  painter,  settled  at  Rome,  is  Mr.  Ropes,  whose  ex- 
cessive modesty  it  must  be  that  has  prevented  his  abilities  being  more 
widely  known  at  home.  His  specialty,  also,  is  land- 
scapes, in  which  he  proves  himself  an  exceedingly  pa-  Ropes, 
tient,  painstaking,  and  truthful  artist.  His  ‘ Rosenlani,’ 
a pidture  about  48  by  36  inches,  sent  a veritable  chill  through  our  party, 
so  vividly  did  it  carry  our  thoughts  to  the  mighty  Swiss  glacier  at  whose 
foot  we  shivered  a few  weeks  before  on  a bright  midsummer  day,  when 
the  sun  was  loosening  the  avalanches  and  hurling  them,  amid  their  own 
thunders,  from  inaccessible  heights.  The  artist’s  fidelity  to  nature  in 
his  depidtion  of  the  grand  solitude,  sublimity,  and  sterility  of  the  scene,  was 
very  striking.  In  a smaller  copy  of  ‘ Rosenlani,’  the  painter,  by  peremptory 
order  of  a purchaser,  had  introduced  a rough  log  cabin,  in  Swiss  style, 
upon  the  side  of  the  steep,  which,  together  with  a few  cattle,  greatly 
humanized  the  scene,  but  at  the  same  time  so  dwarfed  and  belittled  it  as  to 
teach  the  beholder  an  impressive  lesson  of  the  folly  of  departing  from  rigid 
truth  in  painting  a view  which  derives  so  much  of  its  character  and  power 
from  its  savage  solitude  and  grandeur.  A very  effective  1 Lake  Nemi,’ 
by  Mr.  Ropes,  was  on  the  eve  of  departure  for  California,  whither  goes 
also  another  pidture,  now  upon  his  easel,  embracing  a view  of  the  upper 
end  of  Lake  Geneva.” 

G.  Quincy  Thorndike,  a native  of  Boston  and  resident  of  Newport,  R.  I., 
has  studied  genre  and  landscape  art  in  Paris,  with  much  taste  and  sympa- 
thy. His  views  of  the  “ Dumplings  ” and  “ Lily  Pond,” 
at  Newport,  are  authentic  and  pleasing;  his  portraits  of  Thorndike, 
the  “ Swans  in  Central  Park,  New  York,”  are  finely  drawn 
and  colored  ; and  his  “ Wayside  Inn  ” is  much  admired  ; photographs  from 
it  were  in  great  demand.  Two  other  landscapes  by  this  artist  are  also  highly 
prized  by  the  critics,  for  their  strength,  naturalness,  and  that  peculiar  color 
which  makes  the  French  school  so  popular.  The  subjedts  of  both  are 
familiar:  a view  at  Newport,  near  the  former  site  of  Miss  Harper’s  cot- 
tage, with  trees  and  sheep  in  the  foreground,  and  a beautiful  sea-view  in 
the  distance  ; and  a brook  near  Stockbridge,  Mass.,  where  teamsters  water 
their  horses,  and  lovers  of  the  pibturesque  linger  with  delight. 

As  if  to  complete  the  contrast  and  suggestiveness  of  the  American  school 
of  landscape  art,  there  are  several  progressive  water-color  painters,  a depart- 
ment which  an  English  lady,  Mrs.  Murray,  the  wife  of  a British  consul  in 


American  Artist  Life. 


568 

the  United  States,  has  memorably  illustrated  ; while  several  societies  of  na- 
tive artists  are  engaged  in  its  study,  practice,  and  exhibition  ; while  a few 
also  earnestly  develop  the  minute  and  graphic  practice  of  the  Pre-Raphael- 
ites, by  the  most  patient  and  conscientious  rendering  of  the  details  of  na- 
ture ; among  them  Henry  Farrar,  Henry  Newman,  Charles  Moore,  Miss 
McDonald,  Miss  Adams,  and  S.  W.  Hill,  whose  fruit-pieces,  rocks,  trees, 
grasses,  and  scenery  offer  instructive  exemplars,  not  without  their  inspiring 
as  well  as  controversial  influence. 

A comparatively  humble,  but  influential  and  therefore  noteworthy,  series 
of  small  landscapes  have  been  a salable  commodity  in  the  New  York  book- 
stores for  several  years  ; they  consist  of  small  studies  of 
Ruggles.  scenery,  or  miniature  landscapes,  from  six  to  eight,  and 
from  four  to  six  inches  ; and  were  called  “ The  Ruggles 
Gems.”  An  obituary  notice  of  the  artist,  who  died  a few  months  since, 
informs  us  that — 

“ Dr.  Edward  Ruggles  was  devoted  to  his  art,  and  was  rapidly  winning 
his  way  into  public  favor,  and  securing  the  reward  which  his  numerous 
paintings  deserved.  For  a long  time  his  ‘gems,’  in  one  of  the  Broadway 
windows,  have  elicited  the  admiration  of  the  passer-by ; while  his  works 
have  been  eagerly  purchased  in  advance  by  private  parties,  and  now  adorn 
very  many  of  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  city.  The  number  of  these  works, 
including  the  miniature  paintings,  is  almost  marvellous.  In  July,  1865, 
Dr.  Ruggles  proceeded  to  the  White  Mountains,  whose  romantic  and 
varied  scenery  completely  captivated  him.  Having,  therefore,  returned  to 
his  studio,  and  imparted  to  canvas  the  results  of  his  studies,  he  again  hast- 
ened back  to  the  mountains,  upon  the  opening  of  the  season  last  year, 
and  spent  the  entire  summer  in  the  most  diligent  prosecution  of  his  art 
labors.  The  results  of  these  labors  now  remain  to  his  friends,  in  the  shape 
of  some  exquisite  paintings.  His  unremitting  toil  and  devotion,  however, 
had  undermined  his  constitution,  and  he  was  soon  prostrated  upon  a bed 
of  sickness,  never  to  rise  again. 

“ Unassuming,  retiring,  and  almost  diffident  in  his  manner,  Dr.  Ruggles 
did  not  force  his  way  into  notice,  but  was  content  that  his  works  should 
win  for  him  the  popularity  and  eminence  which  they  were  rapidly  achieving. 
Owing  to  the  possession  of  these  same  qualities,  the  number  was  not  large 
who  enjoyed  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  him.  Those,  however,  who 
were  thus  fortunate,  placed  an  exalted  estimate  upon  his  qualities  of  heart 
as  well  as  of  mind,  and  now  share  in  the  affliction  which  has  overtaken  and 
borne  down  his  wife.” 

This  young  artist  when  abroad  paid  particular  attention  to  the  pictures 
of  Turner,  and  has  since  his  return  to  this  country  been  assiduous  in  his 
study  of  nature,  in  all  her  manifestations.  The  sketch  for 
Moran.  his  last  and  best  work,  “ The  Children  of  the  Mountain,” 
was  exhibited.  The  “ children  ” are  not  of  human  birth  ; 
but  the  cataraCt,  the  storm-cloud,  the  rainbow,  and  the  mist  are  effectively 
done.  It  is  a peculiarity  of  the  majority  of  Moran’s  paintings  that  they  do 


Landscape-P  ainters . 


569 


not  admit  of  the  introduction  of  the  human  figure.  Edward  Moran,  brother 
of  Thomas,  devoted  himself  principally  to  marine  pieces,  in  which  his  suc- 
cess has  been  decided.  Among  them  are  “The  Ship  Samuel  Tales  enter- 
ing Boston  Harbor,”  view  of  the  latter  ; “ Swallow’s  Cave.  Nahant,  Mass.,” 
“ Pulpit  Rock,”  “ Smuggler’s  Cave,”  and  “ The  Old  Boat-House,”  in  the 
collection  of  Samuel  B.  Fales,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia;  where  also  is  “A 
View  on  the  Neck,”  by  Peter  Moran;  and  several  of  Paul  Weber’s  best 
landscapes,  comprising  scenes  in  the  Tyrol,  Switzerland,  and  Pennsylva- 
nia ; and  “ Cuban  Sunset,”  “View  near  Cienfuegos,”  and  the  “Valley  of 
the  Yumuri,”  by  E.  D.  Lewis. 

Two  views  of  the  ruined  theatre  of  Taormina,  in  Sicily,  painted  by  Mr. 
Hotchkiss,  a native  artist,  now  in  Italy,  have  decided  merit.  The  pictures 
are  similar,  without  being  identical.  The  one  nearest 
completion  leaves  the  arches  of  the  ruin  in  shadow,  Hotchkiss, 
while  the  land,  the  town,  and  the  quiescent  volcano,  yEtna, 
seen  through  and  beyond  them,  are  bright  with  the  afternoon  sunlight. 
The  other  catches  the  morning  light  upon  the  arches,  while  heavier 
shadows  fall  over  the  landscape.  Two  views  of  Mount  yEtna,  by  the  same 
artist,  deserve  much  praise.  One  of  these  especially  gives  wonderfully, 
for  so  small  a canvas,  the  idea  of  distance.  The  eye  is  forbidden  to  rush 
over  the  whole  at  a glance,  but  compelled,  as  it  were,  to  travel  from  point 
to  point,  detained  by  the  delicate  finish  of  every  part.  This  completeness 
of  finish  and  singularly  just  distribution  of  light  are  among  the  qualities 
which  have  made  the  works  of  this  artist  deservedly  admired.  There  is 
in  his  studio  also  a small  picture  of  the  “ Colosseum  by  Moonlight,”  which 
may  be  termed  a good  attempt  to  accomplish  an  impossibility  ; a fine 
view  of  Torre  di  Schiare,  with  the  Sabine  hills  in  the  distance  ; and  a 
larger  work,  as  yet  but  begun,  showing  the  Arch  of  Titus,  with  the  Colos- 
seum in  the  background. 


SCULPTORS. 


Plastic  A rt.  — Foreign  Sculptors. — Rush. — Frazee. — A ugur. — Hart. — 
Brown. — Story. — - Ball. — IV ard. — Ives. — Mills. — Dexter. — Volk. — 
Mozier. — Randolph  Rogers. — Rhinehardt. — R.  S.  Greenough. — ■ Jack - 
son. — Rimmer. — Thompson. — John  Rogers. — Meade. — Haseltine , and 
others. — Brackett.— Gould. — Milhnore.  Female  Sculptors  : Har- 
riet Hosmer. — Emma  Stebbins , and  others. — Margaret  Foley. — Ed- 
monia  Lewis. — Mrs.  Freeman. — A nne  Whitney , and  others. — Cleven- 
ger.— Bartholomew. — A kers. 

AVING  sketched  the  experience  of  our  pioneer  and  deceased 
sculptors  somewhat  elaborately,  it  is  interesting  to  note 
the  rapid  and  auspicious  development  of  this  art  among 
us,  to  recognize  the  facilities  now  afforded  the  student,  and 
the  success  which  crowns  talent  and  industry.  So  far 
from  being  an  exceptional,  this  once  isolated  pursuit  now  seems  peculiarly 
congenial  to  American  genius,  remarkably  adapted  to  the  artistic  needs 
of  the  country,  and  destined  to  achieve  original  triumphs  abroad  ; where  a 
single  name  so  long  identified  our  nationality  with  plastic  art ; in  Florence 
and  Rome,  the  Americans  boast  a fair  proportion  among  the  students  of  and 
adepts  in  statuary. 

There  has  been  much  indiscriminate  praise  lavished  upon  'American 
artists  in  this  as  in  other  spheres  ; and  it  must  be  confessed  that  in  sculp- 
ture, as  in  painting,  the  frequent  reproduction  of  hackneyed  subjects,  and 
mere  imitative  correctness  in  portraiture,  do  not  afford  any  special  grounds 
for  national  complacency,  especially  in  the  view  of  those  familiar  with 
works  of  the  kind  abroad.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  a marked  originality, 
either  in  design  or  execution,  and  a growing  tendency  to  strike  out  national 
or  fresh  themes  in  plastic  art,  are  among  the  promising  signs  whereby  we 
are  led  to  look  for  new  and  high  results.  Add  to  this  that  our  local  his- 
tories abound  in  favorable  subjects  for  the  chisel ; that  hero-worship  is  a 
fervent  instinCt  of  the  people,  calling  for  statuesque  memorials  ; and  that 
our  rural  cemeteries,  and  city  parks  and  squares,  are  not  only  adapted  to 
sculpture  decoration,  but  fitted  to  suggest  and  inspire  such  memorials  and 


Sculptors. 


571 


trophies.  Already  effigies  in  marble  or  bronze  have  been  executed  or  are 
in  contemplation,  whereby  the  scene  of  historical  events  and  the  persons 
of  public  benefactors  will  be  illustrated  to  the  eye  and  heart  of  the  people, 
through  the  ministry  of  art. 

The  various  statues  of  Washington  ; that  of  Jackson,  in  New  Orleans  ; 
of  Clay,  in  Kentucky;  of  Franklin  and  Webster,  in  Boston;  of  Calhoun, 
in  Charleston,  S.  C.  ; of  James  Otis,  John  Adams,  Governor  Winthrop, 
and  Bowditch,  at  Mount  Auburn  ; of  Perry,  at  Cleveland,  Ohio ; and  many 
others,  consecrate  and  identify  the  local  genius  of  the  past ; and  there  is 
not  a State  or  city  in  the  land  but  may  claim  like  trophies  from  the  hand  of 
native  art.  Many  such  are  proposed  ; some  in  the  process  of  execution. 
Crawford’s  monumental  statuary  at  Richmond  is  a perpetual  reproach  to 
Virginia  treason,  and  a constant  protest  of  the  illustrious  men  of  the  State 
against  the  profane  and  delirious  attempt  to  sequestrate  their  national  fame 
and  love.  The  statues  of  Franklin  and  Jefferson,  which  Powers  executed 
for  the  Capitol,  are  noble  memorials  of  character  and  patriotism  ; and 
appropriate  subjects  have  been  designated  for  American  artists,  drawn 
from  the  annals  of  the  past,  many  of  which  offer  remarkable  opportunities 
for  artistic  originality.  Daniel  Boone  should  be  represented  as  the 
pioneer,  and  his  noble  image  should  adorn  the  State  he  first  explored 
as  a wilderness.  Roger  Williams  is  the  type  of  Toleration,  whose 
form  and  features,  if  any  authentic  semblance  thereof  can  be  discov- 
ered, should  adorn  the  market-places  of  Providence,  or  the  groves  of 
Rhode  Island.  . Ethan  Allen  has  already  been  made  the  statuesque 
guardian  of  the  capital  of  Vermont ; and  there  are  De  Soto,  Father 
Marquette,  Putnam,  Stark,  Standish,  Penn,  Lord  Baltimore,  Hamil- 
ton, the  statesmen  who  formed  the  Constitution,  the  military  leaders 
of  the  Revolution,  the  naval  heroes  of  the  last  war  with  England,  the 
eminent  legislators,  jurists,  historians,  and  poets  of  our  own  day,  and 
the  martyrs  and  patriots  of  the  war  for  the  Union,  all  offering  fit  and  often 
most  effective  subjects.  The  Indian  and  the  negro  have  already  become 
significant  emblems  of  American  life  in  the  products  of  art  ; and  busts  of 
prominent  and  private  citizens  multiply  under  the  hands  of  native  sculptors  : 
continually  there  spring  up  in  unexpected  regions  votaries  of  plastic  art, 
modellers  in  clay,  and  carvers  of  stone,  of  original  and  instinCtive  aptitude. 

John  Dixey,  born  in  Dublin,  and  educated  in  London,  a student  of  the 
Royal  Academy,  visited  Italy,  and  then  came  to  this  country  in  1789.  His 
“ Hercules  and  Hydra,”  and  “ Ganymede,”  gained  him 
reputation  ; the  Cherub’s  head  on  the  Hamilton  monument,  Foreign  Sculptors, 
and  the  figures  of  Justice  on  the  New  York  City  Hall  are 
by  him.  He  married  in  America,  and  left  two  sons,  who  became  artists. 
Guiseppe  Ceracchi,  who  was  an  ardent  republican,  and  perished  by  the 
guillotine  for  conspiring  against  Napoleon  I.,  arrived  in  Philadelphia  in 
1791  ; he  conceived  the  design  of  ereCting  a monument  to  Liberty,  with 
statues  of  our  Revolutionary  statesmen  and  soldiers,  but  did  not  receive 
adequate  encouragement ; he,  however,  executed  a noble  bust  of  Washing- 


572 


American  Artist  Life . 


ton,  now  in  the  possession  of  Governeur  Kemble,  Esq.,  of  Cold  Spring, 
N.  Y.  ; one  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  belonging  to  bis  son,  James  Hamilton. 
Esq.,  of  Dobbs’  Ferry,  N.  Y.,  and  other  eminent  Americans.  Houdon 
also  visited  this  country  in  1785  to  model  the  head  of  Washington  for  the 
statue  at  Richmond,  Va.  But,  with  the  exception  of  figure-heads  for  ves- 
sels in  our  seaports,  we  have  scarcely  any  native  illustrations  of  carving  or 
modelling  prior  to  the  Revolution  ; if  we  except  William  Rush,  an  intel- 
ligent and  agreeable  man  and  clever  artist,  who  com- 
Rush.  menced  modelling  in  clay  in  1789;  all  his  works  are  in 
clay  or  wood.  He  made  the  crucifixes  in  St.  Augustine 
and  St.  Mary’s  Cathedral  churches,  the  Statue  of  Washington  in  the  State 
House,  and  the  “ Water  Nymph,”  at  Fairmount,  Philadelphia  ; and,  in 
1812,  exhibited  busts  of  Linnaeus,  William  Bartram,  and  others,  besides 
a few  ideal  figures. 

When  John  Frazee  first  saw  a cast  from  the  antique  in  the  New  York 
Academy,  and  applied  to  its  president,  Col.  Trumbull,  for  assistance  in  the 
study  of  plastic  art,  that  gentleman  told  him  sculpture  would  not  be  wanted 
here  for  a century  ; a predidlion  singularly  unwarranted  by  subsequent  fadts. 
John  Frazee  was  born  at  Rahway,  N.  J.,  July  18,  1790  ; he  was,  in  boy- 
hood, a household  drudge  at  Brookfield  in  the  same  State  ; bound  appren- 
tice to  a demoralized  master,  his  mother’s  instructions 
Frazee.  seem  the  only  redeeming  element  of  his  early  lot ; even 
then  he  loved  to  cut  figures  out  of  shingles  ; alternately  a 
bricklayer  and  a tavern- waiter,  his  first  chisel-work  was  to  cut  an  in- 
scription on  the  stone-work  of  a new  bridge,  which  was  thought  a remark- 
able achievement,  and  led  to  his  being  employed  as  a stone-cutter  by 
Peter  De  Windt  Smith,  of  Haverstraw,  N.  Y.  Mr.  Wilson,  of  Fairfield, 
Ct.,  assisted  him  with  books  and  advice  ; in  1814,  he  commenced  business 
as  a stone-cutter  with  a fellow-apprentice,  at  Brunswick,  N.  J.,  and  after- 
ward removed  to  New  York  city,  and  opened  a marble-yard  in  Broadway 
with  his  brother,  and  afterward  with  Launitz.  Flis  employment  had  more 
and  more  verged  toward  the  ornamental  ; from  1819  to  1823  mantel- 
pieces and  gravestones  occupied  him  ; but  the  next  year  he  executed 
what  Dunlap  declares  the  first  marble  portrait  from  a native  hand — a bust 
of  John  Wells,  Esq.  ; it  was  chiselled,  after  death,  from  profiles,  and  was 
placed  in  Grace  Church.  Frazee  then  made  busts  of  Chief-Justice  Mar- 
shall, Daniel  Webster,  Dr.  Bowditch,  Mr.  Prince,  General  Jackson,  and 
others  ; and  in  1831  a bust  of  John  Jay,  for  which  Congress  made  an  ap- 
propriation, and  of  Judges  Story  and  Prescott.  The  family  name  of  this 
artist  was  originally  Fraser,  changed  by  the  grandfather ’to  Frazee.  The 
artistically-inclined  stone-cutter  had  amused  himself  by  plastic  experiments 
in  his  family  before  adventuring  in  art,  having  copied  a head  of  Franklin, 
modelled  his  children  eating  a pie,  and  consoled  himself  for  the  loss  of  one 
by  his  first  ideal  attempt — a figure  of  “ Grief.”  His  name  and  memory  are 
pleasantly  associated  with  the  development  of  the  art  he  loved  ; for  it  was  in 
the  marble-yard  where  he  once  worked,  and  with  Launitz,  his  former  partner, 


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573 


that  Crawford  first  practised  in  statuary  ; and  his  son,  a pupil  of  Launt 
Thompson,  has  lately  opened  a studio,  and  executed  some  very  promising 
works. 

In  1791,  the  son  of  a carpenter,  named  Augur,  in  New  Hampshire,  was 
born,  who  from  a shoemaker’s  apprentice  became  a prosperous  tradesman 
in  New  Haven,  Ct.  ; bankruptcy  led  him  to  indulge  a 
taste  for  carving  ; and  he  in  part  paid  his  debts  by  making  Augur, 
legs  in  mahogany  for  ornamental  furniture,  and  inventing 
a machine  for  weaving  worsted  lace.  From  these  homely  labors  Hezekiah 
Augur  turned  his  attention  ardently  to  artistic  experiments,  and  copied  a 
head  of  Apollo,  which  was  the  wonder  and  delight  of  his  fellow-citizens  ; 
and  his  local  fame  was  confirmed  when  he  succeeded  in  chiselling  a 
Washington  and  a Sappho  in  1827.  Augur’s  brief  artistic  career  culmi- 
nated in  the  group  of  “Jephthah  and  his  Daughter,”  long  considered  a 
marvel  of  self-taught  art,  and  still  preserved  as  an  interesting  trophy  in 
the  Yale  College  gallery.  A recent  critic  observes  : — 

“ The  group  of  statuary  by  Hezekiah  Augur,  representing  Jephthah  and 
his  Daughter,  placed  in  the  recess  over  the  south  arch  of  the  hall,  shows 
to  much  better  advantage  than  it  did  in  the  old  gallery  ; and  though  the  light 
may  bring  out  more  strongly  the  defedts  in  the  carving,  it  also  develops 
the  excellence  of  expression  and  attitude  which  give  value  to  the  statuary.” 

The  artist  complained  that  the  work  brought  him  many  compliments,  but 
little  money  ; indirectly,  however,  it  was  auspicious,  for  he  received  several 
orders  for  monuments  and  busts.  He  died  January  10,  1858. 

About  the  same  time  John  S.  Coggdell,  of  Charleston,  S.  C.,  modelled  a 
few  busts  of  distinguished  Americans. 

Gradually  statues  and  busts  multiplied.  The  more  familiar  subjects  of 
Ball  Hughes,  a Scotch  sculptor  long  resident  in  Boston,  and  their  graphic 
treatment,  was  a fresh  inspiration  to  our  native  students  in  plastic  art  ; and 
numerous  casts  from  the  antique,  and  a few  works  of  the  modern  conti- 
nental sculptors,  became  familiar  and  suggestive  objects  of  interest  in  the 
Eastern  cities. 

In  Clark  county,  Ky.,  in  the  year  1810,  was  born  Joel  T.  Hart ; he  never 
was  at  school  but  three  months  in  his  life,  and  earned  his  subsistence  while 
a boy  by  rough  mason-work,  especially  chimney-building  ; 
what  book-learning  he  acquired  was  caught  from  reading  Hart, 
at  night  by  the  light  of  a wood  fire.  In  1830  he  began  to 
work  in  a stone-cutter’s  yard  in  Lexington  ; attempting  to  model  in  clay, 
he  made  a good  likeness,  first  of  one  and  then  of  another  influential  citizen, 
until  his  fame  spread,  and  his  services  were  in  requisition  through  the 
West — his  bust  of  General  Jackson  having  obtained  him  popular  appre- 
ciation. An  association  of  ladies  commissioned  him  to  execute  a statue 
of  Henry  Clay.  In  1846  he  commenced  his  studies  therefor  from  life  ; it 
was  the  work  of  three  years  to  complete  the  model ; having  sent  it  to  Italy, 
he  embarked,  and  reached  Florence  in  the  autumn  of  1849.  A year  passed 
by,  and  he  waited  in  vain  for  the  model  which  he  was  to  transfer  to  marble  : 


574 


American  Artist  Life. 


at  the  end  of  a year  he  learned  that  the  ship,  in  which  it  was  forwarded, 
had  been  lost  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  Our  sculptors  have  been  singularly 
unfortunate  through  shipwrecks.  The  vessels  which  bring  home  their 
works  from  Leghorn  are  usually  freighted  with  marble,  and  in  case  of  a 
storm,  the  weight  of  the  cargo  precipitates  the  fate  of  the  craft,  usually  old 
and  overloaded.  The  statue  of  Calhoun,  by  Powers,  lay  for  weeks  in  the 
sand,  fathoms  deep,  off  the  shores  of  Fire  Island,  where  the  ship  foundered, 
in  which  the  Countess  d’Ossoli  and  her  family  perished  ; Rogers’  statue 
of  John  Adams  was  lost  in  like  manner  ; and  Story’s  “ Cleopatra”  was  nine 
months  on  its  voyage.  Hart  sent  to  Kentucky  for  the  duplicate  of  his 
work  ; at  last  the  statue  was  sent  home  completed,  and  was  inaugurated 
at  Louisville,  May  30,  1867.  During  the  interval  he  executed  many  busts, 
and  several  ideal  subjects  ; and  the  city  of  New  Orleans  ordered  a copy 
of  the  Clay  statue. 

Hart’s  “Angelina”  is  beautiful.  In  his  group  called  “ Woman  Triumph- 
ant” the  design  is  unique  and  eminently  graceful,  whichever  way  it  is 
turned.  She  holds  the  arrow  high  above  the  head  of  the  importunate 
little  divinity,  who  is  reaching  for  it  in  vain.  One  of  his  poetic  illustrations 
is  the  figure  of  a child  examining  a flower,  while  she  holds,  in  her  other 
hand,  her  apron  full  of  them.  Some  of  his  portrait-busts  are  remarkable 
for  a look  of  flesh.  His  Clay  statue  is  highly  characteristic  and  effective. 
He  has  invented  a machine-marker,  and  sent  home  a duplicate  model. 
Among  Llart’s  busts  are  those  of  Governor  Crittenden,  General  Taylor, 
Robert  Wickliffe,  and  Colonel  Gregory — all  truthful ; among  his  ideal 
works,  “ II  Penseroso  ; ” and  several  of  them  are  owned  in  England. 

A younger  Hart,  Robert,  is  known  by  a fine  bust  of  Theodore  Parker. 
Its  merits  as  a portrait-bust  have  never  been  appreciated,  and  the  artist, 
whose  sad  death  occurred  two  years  ago,  did  not  live  to  realize  his  hope  of 
putting  it  into  marble.  The  clay  model  still  remains  at  Florence. 

Joel  T.  Hart  is  a genuine  specimen  of  a Western  American — tall  and 
vigorous  in  person  ; kindly  and  generous.  He  is  fond  of  writing  verses,  and 
has  a facility  and  a feeling  therein  both  fanciful  and  patriotic.  On  a recent 
occasion,  at  a fete  improvised  at  Florence  (where  the  sculptor  has  lived 
and  worked  for  several  years),  in  honor  of  the  poet  Bryant,  then  on  a visit 
there,  by  one  of  his  hospitable  countrymen,  a poem  by  Hart  was  read, 
which  thus  concludes  : — 


Shall  I be  mute  while  here  my  country’s  pride, 

Her  youth,  her  beauty,  and  her  manhood  throng 
This  treasure-house,  its  portals  opened  wide, 

Where  I and  some  proud  names  have  toiled  so  long, 
And  see  to-day  my  country’s  Sire  of  Song — 

Crowned  with  his  snowy  splendors — laurels  won — 
Moulding  the  nation’s  heart? 

Thrice  welcome  to  these  shores,  great  Bard,  who  sung 
The  song  of  “ God’s  First  Temples  ” with  the  fire 


Sculptors. 


575 


Of  Freedom.  Could  her  spirits  list  thy  tongue, 

Some  rapt  “ Evangeline  ” would  hush  her  choir, 

And  Alfieri  throw  around  his  lyre 
The  starry  flag,  prophetic  of  his  own  ; 

While,  listening,  Dante’s  spirit  would  aspire. 

Henry  Kirke  Brown  was  born  at  Leyden,  Massachusetts,  in  1814:  he 
tried  his  hand  at  portraiture  when  a mere  boy ; and,  at  eighteen,  visited 
Boston,  determined  to  make  that  branch  of  art  his  pro- 
fession ; but,  while  engaged  in  the  study  thereof,  he  Brown, 
modelled  the  head  of  a lady,  and  found  the  process  so 
much  more  congenial,  and  the  result  so  much  more  satisfactory  than 
painting,  that  he  gave  up  the  latter  pursuit,  and  adopted  that  of  sculpture. 
To  gain  facility  and  knowledge  he  thought  a sojourn  in  Italy  indispensable  ; 
and  to  earn  the  means  of  going  thither,  he  became  a railroad  engineer  in 
Illinois  ; the  result  of  this  experiment  w^as  that  he  gained  little  money  and 
lost  much  health.  His  friends  came  to  the  rescue,  and  he  went  abroad, 
passing  several  years  in  the  study  and  practice  of  his  art  in  Italy.  On  his 
return  to  the  United  States,  he  applied  himself  to  casting  in  bronze  with 
much  success.  Some  of  Brown’s  early  works  are  crude,  unsymmetrical, 
and  indicative  of  want  of  practice,  and  too  rapid  advances  from  mere  imi- 
tation to  creative  attempts  ; but  with  practice,  he  obtained  mastery  over 
the  materials  in  which  he  worked,  and  has  produced  a variety  of  figures, 
groups,  bas-reliefs,  and  busts,  some  of  which  are  highly  creditable  to  his 
skill.  Among  his  best  works  are  the  “ Indian  and  Panther,”  the  subjedt 
being  drawn  from  nature  ; and  the  statue  of  Washington  in  Union  Square, 
New  York.  It  represents  Washington  on  horseback  in  the  act  of  recalling 
his  troops  to  repose  ; the  figure  is  bare-headed,  the  hat  resting  on  his 
bridle  arm,  the  sword  sheathed  ; the  right  hand  extended,  as  if  commanding 
quiet;  the  drapery  is  the  simple  Continental  uniform  ; the  face  is  slightly 
upturned  ; the  pedestal  is  fourteen  feet  by  sixteen,  figure  fourteen,  and  the 
extreme  height  twenty.  The  subscriptions  for  this  work  were  chiefly  derived 
from  the  merchants  of  New  York,  through  the  earnest  efforts  of  Colonel 
Lee  ; they  were  paid  in  sums  of  four  hundred  dollars  each.  It  was  pro- 
jected by  Horatio  Greenough,  who  was  to  have  undertaken  it  with  Brown, 
but  finally  abandoned  the  enterprise,  after  having  efficiently  promoted  the 
subscription.  The  character  of  the  work  is  heroic,  and,  while  open  to 
criticism,  it  has  been  declared,  by  high  authority,  to  have  the  peculiar 
merit  of  being  technically  good  and  effective.  This  statue  was  com- 
menced in  February,  1853,  and  was  finished  and  inaugurated  on  the 
eightieth  anniversary  of  American  Independence,  July  4,  1856.  It  is  the 
first  bronze  statue  ever  wholly  executed  in  this  country. 

Brown’s  first  instruction  in  portraiture  was  received  from  Chester  Hard- 
ing, in  Boston,  where  he  remained  three  years  ; his  first  marble  bust  was 
executed  at  Cincinnati,  whither  he  accompanied  Dr.  Willard  Parker,  his 
teacher  in  anatomy,  in  1837,  also  sojourning  for  the  same  period  in  that  city. 
At  Troy  and  Albany,  where  he  fixed  his  alternate  residence  in  1840,  he  exe- 


5/6 


American  Artist  Life. 


cutecl  forty  busts,  in  addition  to  the  “ Four  Seasons,”  for  Ezra  Prentice,  Esq., 
ol  Mount  Hope.  During  his  sojourn  of  four  years  in  Italy,  he  executed  his 
statues  of  “Adonis,”  “David” — the  latter  engraved  by  Bertini  ; one  of 
“Ruth,”  for  Mr.  Ewing,  M.P.  from  Glasgow;  a “Rebecca,”  for  Captain 
Spencer,  of  New  York  ; a “ Boy  and  Dog,”  for  C.  M.  Leupp,  Esq.,  of  the  same 
city,  and  several  bas-reliefs  ; he  has  made  two  replicas  of  the  “ Ruth.”  In 
1846,  on  his  return  to  America,  Brown  resided  and  worked  in  New  York 
and  Brooklyn,  and  during  the  ensuing  four  years  made  numerous  studies 
among  the  Indians  ; of  his  “Aboriginal  Hunter,”  twenty  copies  were  dis- 
tributed by  the  Art-Union.  Among  his  works  at  this  period  are  a large 
bas-relief  for  the  Church  of  the  Annunciation,  New  York  ; and  the  colossal 
statue  of  Clinton,  for  Greenwood  Cemetery,  where  also  is  his  “ Angel  of  the 
Resurrection,”  its  replica  being  at  Pittsburgh,  Ohio.  In  1858,  Brown  was 
commissioned  by  the  State  of  South  Carolina  to  execute  a large  group  of 
thirteen  figures  for  the  new  State  House  at  Columbia  ; his  design  represented 
Hope  bearing  the  olive  branch,  figures  of  Justice  and  Liberty,  and  labor- 
ers in  the  rice  and  cotton  fields  ; when  nearly  completed  this  work  was 
abandoned  by  the  artist,  in  consequence  of  the  outbreak  of  the  Slave- 
holders’ Rebellion,  and  was  subsequently  destroyed  by  the  fire  which  con- 
sumed so  large  a portion  of  the  city,  and  with  it  several  studies  and  a col- 
lection of  casts  in  his  studio.  Since  then  Brown  has  lived  at  his  pleasant 
rural  home  at  Newburgh,  N.  Y.,  and,  besides  the  statue  of  Dr.  Bethune, 
for  the  New  York  Historical  Society,  has  modelled  a colossal  statue  of 
President  Lincoln,  for  the  city  of  Brooklyn,  L.  I.,  and  is  now  engaged  on 
studies  for  an  equestrian  statue  of  General  Scott,  ordered  by  Congress, 
and  one  of  General  Greene,  ordered  by  the  State  of  Rhode  Island,  for  the 
Capitol,  at  Washington. 

There  are  many  incidents  connected  with  Brown’s  artist-life  worth  re- 
cording, but  of  which  want  of  space  prevents  even  the  mention  ; those 
connected  with  his  residence  at  Washington,  D.  C.,  and  Columbia,  S.  C., 
just  before  the  Civil  War,  possess  an  historical  interest,  and,  in  connexion 
with  his  early  struggles  and  studies  abroad,  would  form  a suggestive  auto- 
biographical sketch. 

William  Wetmore  Story  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  Feb.  12,  1819.  He  is 
the  son  of  the  eminent  Chief  Justice  Story,  and  after  graduating  at  Harvard 
College,  studied  law,  and  in  1844,  published  a Treatise 
Story.  on  The  Law  of  Contracts,  which  was  favorably  regarded 
by  the  profession,  and  followed  by  another,  on  The  Law 
of  Sales  of  Personal  Property,  which  passed  to  a third  edition  ; to  these 
creditable  legal  publications  he  added  three  volumes  of  Reports.  While 
thus  engaged,  however,  his  time  and  sympathies  were  often  devoted  to 
literature  and  art,  which  had  for  him  more  permanent  attractions  than  juris- 
prudence. He  cultivated  music  and  poetry.  In  1847,  a volume  of  Poems 
appeared  from  his  pen  ; and  in  1851,  a Life  of  his  father.  After  these  ex- 
periments his  versatile  mind  at  last  settled  upon  plastic  art  ; he  went  to 
Rome,  and  executed  a statue  of  his  father  in  his  judicial  robes  and  holding 


Sculptors. 


577 


a book  ; this  statue  is  now  in  the  Chapel  at  Mount  Auburn  : the  likeness 
is  manifestly  true,  and  there  is  grace  but  little  vigor  in  the  work  ; it,  how- 
ever, was  justly  regarded  as  a successful  first  attempt,  and  encouraged  the 
artist  to  devote  himself  to  sculpture  ; subsequent  portrait-busts  and 
figures  from  his  chisel  have  greater  force  and  expression ; his  statuette  of 
Beethoven  proved  a favorite  ; and  for  several  years  he  has  resided  in 
Rome,  devoted  to  his  art,  and  occasionally  exercising  his  pen.  In 
1856,  he  published  a second  volume  of  poems  ; and,  in  1863,  an  entertain- 
ing description  of  the  local  and  popular  customs,  manners,  games,  econo- 
mies, and  aspects  of  44  the  City  of  the  Soul,”  with  whose  features  and 
phases  fond  observation  had  made  him  familiar.  Story  is  best  known  as 
an  artist  by  two  works  first  exhibited  at  the  World’s  Fair  in  London,  of 
which  one  of  the  leading  critical  journals  of  that  city  thus  speaks  : — 

44  The  4 Cleopatra  and  the  Sibyl  ’ are  seated,  partly  draped,  with  the 
characteristic  Egyptian  gown,  that  gathers  about  the  torso  and  falls  freely 
around  the  limbs  ; the  first  is  covered  to  the  bosom,  the  second  bare  to  the 
hips.  Queenly  Cleopatra  rests  back  against  her  chair  in  meditative  ease,  lean- 
ing her  cheek  against  one  hand,  whose  elbow  the  rail  of  the  seat  sustains  ; 
the  other  is  outstretched  upon  fier  knee,  nipping  its  forefinger  upon  the 
thumb  thoughtfully,  as  though  some  firm,  wilful  purpose  filled  her  brain, 
as  it  seems  to  set  those  luxurious  features  to  a smile  as  if  the  whole 
woman  4 would.’  Upon  her  head  is  the  coif,  bearing  in  front  the  mystic 
urceus , or  twining  basilisk  of  sovereignty,  while  from  its  sides  depend  the 
wide  Egyptian  lappels,  or  wings,  that  fall  upon  her  shoulders.  The  Sibytla 
Libyca  has  crossed  her  knees — an  aCtion  universally  held  among  the  an- 
cients as  indicative  of  reticence  or  secrecy,  and  of  power  to  bind.  A 
secret-keeping  looking  dame  she  is,  in  the  full-bloom  proportions  of  ripe 
womanhood,  wherein  choosing  to  place  his  figure  the  sculptor  has  deftly 
gone  between  the  disputed  point  whether  these  women  were  blooming 
and  wise  in  youth,  or  deeply  furrowed  with  age  and  burdened  with  the 
knowledge  of  centuries,  as  Virgil,  Livy,  and  Gellius  say.  Good  artistic 
example  might  be  quoted  on  both  sides.  Her  forward  elbow  is  propped 
upon  one  knee  ; and  to  keep  her  secrets  closer,  for  this  Libyan  woman  is 
the  closest  of  all  the  Sibyls,  she  rests  her  shut  mouth  upon  one  closed 
palm,  as  if  holding  the  African  mystery  deep  in  the  brooding  brain  that 
looks  out  through  mournful,  warning  eyes,  seen  under  the  white  shade  of 
the  strange  horned  (ammonite)  crest,  that  bears  the  mystery  of  the  Tetra- 
grammaton  upon  its  upturned  front.  Over  her  full  bosom,  mother  of  my- 
riads as  she  was,  hangs  the  same  symbol.  Her  face  has  a Nubian  cast, 
her  hair  wavy  and  plaited,  as  is  meet.”  * 

The  litheness  of  the  figure  of  Cleopatra,  its  Egyptian  type  of  face  and 
accessories,  the  voluptuous  ease  of  the  attitude,  the  expression,  and  execu- 
tion, combine  to  give  it  a character  of  original  power  and  of  historical 
interest  as  well  as  artistic  beauty.  It  is  in  the  possession  of  Paran 


* London  Athenaeum, 

37 


573 


American  Artist  Life. 

Stevens,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  Story’s  “ Saul ’’and  “Moses,”  with  much  of 
the  traditional  character  of  the  subjects  and  decided  merit  of  conception, 
are  not  so  original ; the  former  recalls  Donaletto,  and  the  latter  Michael 
Angelo.  Similar  conventional  imitation,  with  superior  talent,  are  manifest 
in  his  “Judith,”  of  which,  and  other  of  his  works,  a critic  observes  : — 

“ The  moment  is  supposed  to  be  just  before  she  slays  Holofernes  ; and 
the  sculptor  has  dignified  the  aCt  by  his  mode  of  representing  it.  Her 
left  hand  and  her  face  are  lifted  towards  heaven  as  in  prayer  ; whilst  in 
her  right  hand,  from  which  the  full,  loose  sleeve  has  fallen  back,  she  holds 
a sword.  The  figure  is  draped  in  a long  robe.  This  noble  work  is  well 
adapted  to,  and  would  adorn,  a public  building.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
‘ Saul,’  who  is  imagined  at  the  moment  when  the  evil  spirit  comes  upon 
him.  It  is  a colossal  figure,  seated  in  an  antique  chair.  The  eyes  are 
dilated  with  madness  : the  right  hand  grasps  his  beard.  The  royal  Saul  is 
draped  in  a regal  robe,  and,  in  spite  of  his  mental  alienation,  is  every  inch 
a king.  ‘ Sappho  ’ is  seated  on  the  side  of  an  antique  chair,  against  which 
she  leans  ; whilst  her  folded  hands  and  her  whole  expression  indicate  the 
utmost  despondency  at  having  been  abandoned.  The  left  shoulder  is  nude, 
the  drapery  having  fallen  from  it ; by  her  side  is  a harp.  ‘ Sappho  ’ was 
a commission  for  Mr.  Stirling  Crawford.  Besides  these  works  there  is  in 
Mr.  Story’s  studio  an  1 Infant  Bacchus  on  a Panther.’  With  his  left  hand 
thrown  back,  he  supports  himself  on  his  steed,  whilst  in  his  right  he  holds 
above  his  head,  which  is  upraised,  a bunch  of  grapes.”  “ Sappho  ” be- 
longs to  Mr.  C.  J.  Peterson,  of  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

He  has  also  made  a group — “ Love  Questioning  the  Sphinx,”  a rather  ab- 
stract composition,  which  would  perhaps  be  more  intelligible  in  Boston  than 
in  New  York.  “ The  Sphinx  is  not  the  rather  archaic  Egyptian  original  with 
which  we  are  familiar,  but  has  a classical  female  head  and  bust,  while  yet 
preserving  the  deep  mysterious  expression  which  the  Egyptian  sculptors 
so  well  conveyed.  Let  her  solve,  if  she  can,  the  mystery  of  Love,  who,  as 
Cupid,  proposes  to  her  the  enigma.” 

Another  group  represents  “ Little  Red  Riding  Hood  and  the  Wolf.”  A 
statue  of  Josiah  Quincy,  one  of  Edward  Everett,  and  another,  equestrian, 
of  Colonel  Shaw,  for  the  city  of  Boston  ; and  “ Delilah,”  are  among  Story’s 
latest  works.  The  commission  for  a statue  of  George  Peabody,  to  be 
erected  in  London,  has  been  given  to  this  artist. 

Thomas  Ball  was  born  at  Charlestown,  Mass.,  June  3,  1819.  His  first 
studies  in  art  were  devoted  to  portrait-painting,  in  which  he  acquired  con- 
siderable proficiency.  One  of  the  best  specimens  is  the 
Ball.  portrait  of  Mrs.  Geo.  H.  Barrett,  the  actress,  now  in  the 

Boston  Museum.  Mr.  Ball  also  painted  several  Scripture 
subjects,  which  were  highly  praised  for  fine  coloring.  Perhaps  his  most 
celebrated  painting  is  a full-length  portrait  (cabinet  size)  of  Daniel  Webster. 

Among  his  first  attempts  at  modelling  may  be  mentioned  a miniature 
bust  of  Jenny  Lind.  Soon  after  this,  he  produced  a life-size  bust  of 
Daniel  Webster,  in  marble.  This  is  considered  an  excellent  likeness  of 


Sculptors. 


579 


the  great  statesman.  A marble  bust  of  Jonas  Chickering  was  made  by 
Mr.  Ball  soon  after  the  death  of  the  former.  So  successful  was  this,  that 
a gold  medal  was  conferred  on  the  artist  by  the  Massachusetts  Charitable 
Mechanics’  Association,  of  which  Mr.  Chickering  was  president  for  many 
years.  A life-size  statue  of  Daniel  Webster  was  made  by  Ball,  which 
was  kept  in  the  Merchants’  Exchange,  during  the  sculptor’s  visit  to  Europe. 
He  passed  two  or  three  years  there,  engaged  in  his  profession  and  studying 
the  old  masters.  During  this  time  he  produced  several  ideal  works,  among 
which  were  statues  of  “ Pandora  ” and  the  u Shipwrecked  Sailor-Boy,”  a 
statuette  of  Washington  Allston,  and  an  ideal  bust  of  “ Truth.” 

Soon  after  his  return  to  America,  a committee  was  appointed  who  in- 
vited Mr.  Ball  to  model  an  equestrian  statue  of  Washington.  This  work, 
the  labor  of  years,  was  executed  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  the  committee 
and  the  public.  It  is  now  about  being  cast  in  bronze,  and  it  will  probably 
be  placed  in  the  Public  Garden  of  Boston.  While  modelling  the  ‘‘  Washing- 
ton,” Ball  also  modelled  and  put  in  marble  many# portrait-busts,  among  them 
those  of  Rufus  Choate,  and  President  Lord,  of  Dartmouth  College.  In 
acknowledgment  of  his  success  with  the  latter,  the  degree  of  Master  of 
Arts  was  conferred  on  him  by  the  College.  Among  Ball’s  works  are 
statuettes  of  Webster  and  Clay,  well  known  to  the  public  from  copies  in 
bronze  and  in  Parian.  In  1865  he  again  visited  Europe,  residing  in 
Florence  and  Rome.  During  this  time  he  has  executed  many  commissions. 
The  number  of  these  works  sent  home  by  him,  give  ample  proof  of  his  in- 
dustry. Many  of  them  are  portrait  busts  of  private  citizens.  That  of 
Hon.  Edward  Everett,  executed  for  the  Everett  Statue  Committee,  and  by 
them  presented  to  the  Boston  Public  Library,  is  a remarkable  specimen  of 
this  branch  of  art. 

A miniature  model  for  a Lincoln  statue  was  made  by  Mr.  Ball  soon  after 
the  President’s  death.  Quite  recently  he  has  finished  a life-size  marble 
statue  of  Edwin  Forrest,  in  the  character  of  Coriolanus.  Ball  is  now 
modelling,  at  his  studio  in  Florence,  a statue  of  Eve,  to  be  executed  in 
marble,  for  a gentleman  of  New  York. 

In  character,  Mr.  Ball  is  modest  and  generous  almost  to  a fault.  Like 
all  true  artists,  he  is  wholly  absorbed  in  his  work.  With  more  business 
taCt,  his  fame  would  have  been  more  extensive  than  it  now  is.  Still,  while 
he  is  silent  about  himself,  his  works  are  speaking  for  him,  and  we  doubt 
not  he  will  enjoy  the  reputation  of  one  of  America’s  eminent  sculptors. 
That  he  has  genius,  all  who  know  him  or  have  seen  his  works  will  ac- 
knowledge. This  is  not  alone  shown  in  his  productions  with  brush  and 
chisel.  As  a musician,  he  ranked  high.  Possessed  of  a fine  bass  voice, 
under  excellent  cultivation,  in  former  years  he  frequently  performed  the 
solo  parts  in  oratorios  for  the  Handel  and  Haydn  Society  of  Boston.  Of 
his  statuette  of  Lincoln,  one  of  his  admirers  says  : “ This  statuette  in 
metal  far  better  conveys  the  artist’s  thought  and  conception,  and,  in  its 
sharper  outline,  its  distinctness  of  detail  and  the  lustrous  quality  of  its 
effects,  gives  instantaneous  communication  of  the  sculptor’s  creative 


580 


American  Artist  Life. 


fidelity,  and  of  his  poetic  power  in  dealing  with  a homely  subject,  and  at 
the  same  time  with  a sublime  fact  in  human  history.  The  great  conditions 
incident  to  a monumental  work  of  this  kind — accuracy  in  likeness,  signifi- 
cance in  attitude,  and  fortunate  disposition  of  figures,  seizure  and  expres- 
sion of  salient  and  characteristic  traits,  observation  of  local  proprieties, 
simplicity,  and  truthfulness,  and  yet  perfeCt  nobility  in  treatment,  and  above 
all  deep  and  universal  suggestion — these  are  admirably  fulfilled  in  Mr. 
Ball’s  creation.” 

In  the  statue  of  Coriolanus,  his  objeCt  is  to  give  the  spectator  the  like 
impression  of  the  aclor  which  he  derives  from  seeing  him  on  the  stage. 

Mr.  Ball’s  equestrian  statue  of  Washington  has  been  sent  to  the  foundry 
of  the  Ames  Manufacturing  Company,  who  have  made  a contract  for 
casting  it.  This  company  cast  the  bronze  statue  of  Franklin,  now  in 
Boston.  Mr.  Ball  completed  the  model  of  his  Washington  some  years 
since,  but  the  Ames  Company  was  too  full  of  government  orders  to  do  the 
casting.  The  statue  is  to  be. completed  and  placed  in  the  Boston  Public 
Garden  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1868.  Five  thousand  dollars  have  been, 
voted  by  the  City  Council  to  provide  a base  for  the  statue,  the  cost  of 
■which  is  fifteen  thousand  dollars. 

Although  J.  O.  A.  Ward  gave  very  early  indications  of  a talent  for  art, 
he  was  not  able  to  realize  the  possibility  of  becoming  an  artist  until,  while 
visiting  a sister  in  Brooklyn,  L.  I.,  he  was  introduced  to 
Ward.  H.  K.  Brown.  It  was  his  first  glimpse  of  a sculptor’s 
studio,  his  first  sight  of  a statue.  He  was  then  eighteen 
years  old.  Born  in  Urbana,  Champaign  county,  Ohio,  his  early  life  was 
passed  on  a farm  ; he  was  not,  however,  a hard-working  farmer  when  there 
was  any  riding,  shooting,  or  other  sport  to  be  had.  He  became  apparently 
a sculptor  because  he  could  not  help  it,  never  having  undertaken  any 
other  profession,  trade,  or  business,  except  farming.  Ward  commenced  as  a 
pupil  with  Mr.  Brown  in  1850,  and  remained  with  him  about  six  years.  He 
had  excellent  opportunities  while  in  this  artist’s  studio  for  practical  studies 
in  all  the  mechanical  departments  of  sculpture — drawing,  modelling  in 
clay,  wax,  and  plaster — working  in  marble  and  bronze,  setting  up  large 
works  ; and  as  Mr.  Brown  allowed  him  to  work  with  him  and  on  his  models 
a great  portion  of  the  time,  there  was  abundant  opportunity  for  the  master 
to  impress  the  pupil  with  some  of  those  essential  principles  of  art  so  nec- 
essary to  tliQ  right  direction  of  a young  mind. 

Ward  spent  two  winters  in  Washington  city  modelling  busts  ; he  visited 
Georgia  at  the  invitation  of  A.  H.  Stephens,  to  complete  his  bust  com- 
menced in  Washington  ; and  having  passed  one  year  in  Ohio,  in  1861  he 
took  a studio  in  New  York,  and  has  since  resided  there.  In  1862  he  was 
elected  Associate  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design,  next  year  was  made 
an  Academician,  and  has  served  two  years  on  the  council. 

Ward  has  modelled  twenty-five  portrait-busts,  some  of  them  public  char- 
acters, such  as  Joshua  R.  Giddings,  A.  H.  Stephens,  John  P.  Hale,  Han- 
nibal Hamlin,  Governor  Dennison,  of  Ohio,  Rev.  Orville  Dewey,  D.D.,  and 


Sculptors. 


581 


Valentine  Mott,  M.D.  He  has  also  executed  many  medallions,  sketches, 
and  studies  for  bas-reliefs,  statues,  and  groups.  He  was  engaged  by  the 
Ames  Company  for  a year  and  more,  in  modelling  and  designing  presenta- 
tion swords,  and  other  fine  works  in  gold  and  silver,  and  afterwards 
designed  several  rich  and  elegant  swords  ; one  for  a Western  general,  at  a 
cost  of  thirty-five  hundred  dollars,  the  hilt  and  scabbard  cast  in  gold,  and 
covered  with  figures  in  bas-relief ; two  swords  for  the  King  of  Siam,  and 
a pair  of  pistols  for  a Turkish  governor,  presented  by  the  President  of  the 
United  States  ; the  pistol  handles  were  cast  in  silver,  covered  with  figures, 
and  the  barrels  inlaid  with  gold. 

The  same  year,  Ward  modelled  his  statuette  of  the  “ Freedman,”  and 
made  six  copies  in  bronze.  His  first  study  of  the  “ Indian  Hunter  ” was 
made  in  1857  ; he  executed  six  copies  in  bronze  the  size  of  the  first  sketch  ; 
he  commenced  a large  group  in  1864,  of  heroic  size,  and  visited  the  Indian 
country  in  the  West  and  Northwest  to  make  sketches  in  pencil  and  wax, 
and,  returning,  finished  his  group,  and  exhibited  it  in  a plaster  model  ; he 
has  since  executed  it  in  bronze  ; it  was  sent  to  the  Paris  Exposition,  and 
will  be  placed  in  the  Central  Park.  In  1866  he  designed  and  executed 
statuary  for  the  monument  to  commemorate  the  discovery  of  sulphuric 
ether  as  an  anaesthetic,  to  be  placed  on  Boston  Common,  presented  by 
Thomas  Lee,  Esq.,  of  that  city  ; it  consists  of  a colossal  group  of  the 
Good  Samaritan,  and  four  relievos  illustrative  of  the  idea.  He  was  the 
same  year  commissioned  by  A.  Belmont,  Esq.,  to  make  a bronze  statue  of 
Commodore  M.  C.  Perry,  U.S.N.,  eight  feet  high.  This  statue  is  now  nearly 
completed  in  clay.  In  1867  he  offered  in  competition  a design  for  a statue 
of  Shakespeare,  to  be  placed  in  the  Central  Park,  and  was  awarded  the  com- 
mission ; the  large  statue  will  soon  be  commenced.  He  has  not  yet  visited 
Europe,  but  is  anxious  to  do  so.  Of  Ward’s  “ Freedman,”  an  intelligent 
writer  remarks  : — 

“ Here  is  the  simple  figure  of  a semi-nude  negro,  sitting,  it  may  be  on 
the  steps  of  the  Capitol,  a fugitive,  resting  his  arms  upon  his  knees,  his 
head  turned  eagerly  piercing  into  the  distance  for  his  ever-vigilant  enemy, 
his  hand  grasping  his  broken  manacles  with  an  energy  that  bodes  no  good 
to  his  pursuers.  A simple  story,  simple  and  most  plainly  told.  There  is 
no  departure  from  the  negro  type.  It  shows  the  black  man  as  he  runs  to- 
day. It  is  no  abstraction,  or  bit  of  metaphysics  that  needs  to  be  labelled 
or  explained.  It  is  a fact,  and  not  a fancy.  He  is  all  African.  With  a 
true  and  honest  instinct,  Mr.  Ward  has  gone  among  the  race,  and  from 
the  best  specimens,  with  wonderful  patience  and  perseverance,  has  selected 
and  combined,  and  from  this  race  alone  erected  a noble  figure — a form  that 
might  challenge  the  admiration  of  an  ancient  Greek.  It  is  a mighty  ex- 
pression of  stalwart  manhood,  which  now,  thanks  to  the  courage  and  genius 
of  the  artist,  stands  forth  for  the  first  time  to  assert  in  the  face  of  the 
world’s  prejudices,  that,  with  the  best  of  them,  he  has  at  least  an  equal 
physical  conformation.”  And  the  author  of  the  “ Art  Idea”  says  of  this 
work  : — “ It  is  completely  original  in  itself— a genuine  inspiration  of  Ameri- 


582 


Am  erica?  i Artist  Life . 


can  history,  noble  in  thought  and  lofty  in  sentiment.  It  symbolizes  the 
African  race  in  America,  the  birthday  of  a new  people  in  the  ranks  of 
civilization  ; we  have  seen  nothing  in  sculpture  more  soul-lifting  or  more 
comprehensively  eloquent.  It  tells  the  whole  sad  tale  of  slavery  and  the 
bright  story  of  emancipation.  The  negro  is  true  to  his  type — of  natural- 
istic fidelity  of  limbs  ; in  form  and  strength  suggesting  the  colossal,  and 
yet  of  an  ideal  beauty,  made  divine  by  the  divinity  of  art.  It  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  the  cost  of  this  work  in  bronze  must  necessarily  limit  the 
number  of  copies,  as  it  should  be  seen  and  possessed  by  the  great  mass  of 
the  people.  Why  cannot  we  have  copies  in  clay-colored  material  ? It 
would  fill  a great  want  in  our  available  sculpture — something  to  educate 
the  people,  to  point  out  the  legitimate  province  of  that  dignified  art,  of 
which  Mr.  Ward  is  one  of  the  most  illustrious  and  honored  disciples.” 

Although  Ward  has  never  practised  modelling  in  an  academy  or  foreign 
and  famed  studio,  he  has  labored,  with  rare  assiduity,  to  master  the  prin- 
ciples of  his  art ; he  understands  proportion  and  anatomical  conditions. 
His  little  models  of  Indian  heads  in  red  wax,  taken  from  life,  in  Dacotah 
Territory,  are  amongst  the  most  authentic  aboriginal  physiognomical  types 
extant  in  plastic  art,  so  carefully  in  detail  are  they  executed.  His  figure  of 
Shakespeare  stands  firmly  and  naturally  on  its  feet,  and  is  harmoniously 
true  to  the  conditions  and  relations  of  the  human  form.  But  the  “ Indian 
Hunter,”  belonging  to  j.  C.  McGuire,  of  Washington,  D.  C.,  best  indicates 
Ward’s  mastery  of  the  essentials  of  his  profession.  It  is  an  aboriginal 
figure  in  every  respeCt.  Eagerly  bent  forward,  with  weapon  ready  and 
muscles  strained  for  a spring,  the  savage  intently  eyes  the  game  and  holds 
back  his  dog  ; every  nerve  is  concentrated,  every  sense  quickened  for 
the  attack  ; and  minute  examination  will  only  reveal  new  truth  of  execu- 
tion, and  artistic  power  and  fidelity.  It  is  the  Indian  in  his  characteristic 
and  palmy  days  ; while  Crawford’s  statue  embodies  him  in  his  decadence 
and  despair  ; the  two  represent  the  salient  points  of  aboriginal  destiny  on 
this  continent,  and,  together,  appropriately  placed,  they  would  serve  as 
admirable  specimens  of  national  art. 

C.  B.  Ives,  an  American  sculptor,  long  resident  at  Rome,  returned  and 
opened  a very  attractive  studio  for  several  months  in  New  York,  just  be- 
fore the  war  for  the  Union.  Mr.  Ives  is  well  known  in 
Ives.  New  York,  through  several  fine  works  of  classic  statuary 

which  adorn  some  of  her  elegant  private  mansions.  His 
busts  of  Professor  Silliman  and  General  Scott  are  among  the  most  popular 
specimens  of  the  art  in  this  country.  He  brought  home  eight  new  statues, 
which  were  very  effectively  arranged  in  his  studio.  Among  them  a life- 
sized  “Pandora,”  executed  for  Mr.  Griswold;  a “Cupid  with  his  Net,”  a 
“ Shepherd  Boy  and  Little  Piper,”  a “ Rebecca,”  a “ Bacchante,”  and  quite 
an  original  figure — •“  Sans  Souci  ; ” it  represents  a little  girl  with  open 
book  clasped  listlessly  in  one  hand,  while  the  other  is  thrown  over  her 
curly  head,  and  she  casts  back  her  lithe  frame  in  the  very  attitude  of 
childish  abandon , the  smile  and  posture  alike  expressive  of  innocence  and 


Sculptors. 


s§3 


naive  enjoyment.  This  and  several  of  the  other  statues  are  remarkably 
adapted  to  ornament  a drawing-room  ; and  were  soon  sold.  In  addition 
to  these,  Mr.  Ives  had  a portfolio  of  photograph  copies  of  his  principal 
works.  One  of  his  recent  groups  embodies  the  expression  of  a well- 
known  incident  in  the  pioneer  history  of  his  native  State  of  Connecticut. 
The  Indians,  attacking  a white  settlement,  carried  off  as  prisoners  several 
children,  who  were  adopted  into  their  tribe.  Twenty  years  later,  in  a treaty 
concluded  with  the  whites,  the  Indians  stipulated  to  return  the  stolen  chil- 
dren. The  romantic  remainder  of  the  story  is  well  told  in  the  marble, 
warmed  and  toned  beneath  the  hands  of  an  artist.  A fine  specimen  of  the 
Aborigines  supports  a young  girl,  dressed  in  Indian  garb,  but  having 
strongly-marked  European  features.  The  mother,  reversing  the  order  of 
nature,  kneels  to  her  child  with  an  agonized  expression  of  entreaty  ; but 
the  daughter’s  love  for  her  Indian  husband  is  a stronger  motive  than  the 
long-forgotten  affection  of  her  mother,  and  she  clings  to  the  savage  with 
a rudely  simple  tenderness  that  is  very  effective.  This  work  is  called  the 
“White  Captives.”  “A  Shepherd  with  a Kid”  is  a pleasing  subjeCt  ten- 
derly treated;  “At  the  Well”  is  a graceful  maiden  picturesquely  stand- 
ing with  her  pitcher  beside  a well.  Ives  has  modelled  a fine  copy  of 
Houdon’s  head  of  Washington,  and  an  excellent  bust  of  William  H. 
Seward.  He  is  a native  of  Connecticut,  and  has  made  his  home  in  Rome 
for  many  years.  He  has  recently  finished  the  model  of  a colossal  statue 
of  Bishop  Brownell,  which  is  to  be  ereCted  at  Hartford,  Connecticut. 

A New  York  journal*  gives  the  following  authentic  sketch  of  the  career 
of  Clark  Mills  : — 

“As  Mr.  Mills  is  the  artist  from  whom  the  Government  has  ordered  the 
only  two  equestrian  statues  in  its  possession,  and  as  the  work  of  casting  in 
bronze  the  colossal  statue  of  Freedom,  recently  placed 
on  the  dome  of  the  national  Capitol,  was  assigned  to  his  Mills, 
hands,  the  subjoined  sketch  of  his  life  will  doubtless  be 
read  with  interest : 

“ Clark  Mills  was  born  in  the  State  of  New  York,  December  1,  1815.  In 
consequence  of  the  death  of  his  father,  he  was  put,  at  the  early  age  of  five 
years,  with  an  uncle  by  marriage,  whom  he  left  between  the  ages  of  twelve 
and  thirteen  for  imagined  ill-treatment.  The  following  spring  he  worked 
on  a farm  and  drove  a wagon.  He  went  to  school  that  winter,  working 
night  and  morning,  before  school  hours,  for  his  board.  The  next  spring 
he  went  to  Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  in  search  of  work,  and  found  employment  at 
five  dollars  a month  with  board  ; he  worked  nine  months,  and  received  only 
five  dollars  ; his  employer  failed  in  the  fall,  and  he  lost  all  that  was  due 
him.  He  worked  during  the  winter  at  a different  employment,  and  in  the 
spring  drove  a wagon  hauling  lumber  at  Syracuse,  where  he  remained  one 
year  at  eight  dollars  a month  and  board.  The  horses  were  finally  sold, 
and  oxen  substituted.  Finding  an  ox-team  too  slow  for  his  ‘ go-ahead  ’ 


* Round  Table. 


5 §4 


American  Artist  Life. 


disposition,  he  left  his  employer  and  worked  on  the  canal  till  the  fall,  and 
went  to  school  that  winter.  In  the  spring  he  attended  canal  locks.  The 
following  winter  he  worked  in  a swamp  cutting  cedar-posts,  and  got  his 
feet  so  badly  frozen  that  he  was  unable  to  wear  shoes  for  several  months, 
which  suffering  determined  him  never  to  work  again  as  a common  laborer. 
He  then  procured  a situation  with  a cabinet-maker,  working  first  for  in- 
struction, and  then  for  board.  He  next  learned  the  millwright’s  trade  and 
worked  at  that  about  two  years,  and  left  the  employment  to  take  charge  of 
a plaster  and  cement  mill. 

“His  next  move  was  for  New  Orleans,  La.,  where  he  stayed  about  one 
year,  and  then  went  to  Charleston,  S.  C.;  and  learned  the  stucco  trade, 
which  business  he  followed  until  1835,  when  he  commenced  modelling 
busts  in  clay.  He  soon  discovered  a new  method  for  taking  a cast  over 
the  living  face,  which  enabled  him  to  take  busts  so  cheaply  that  he  soon 
had  as  much  work  as  he  could  do.  He  then  resolved  to  try  cutting  in 
marble,  and  after  procuring  a block  of  native  Carolina  stone  he  commenced 
the  bust  of  John  C.  Calhoun.  At  that  time  he  was  not  familiar  with  the 
the  rules  for  cutting  a bust,  and  was  compelled  to  adopt  a rule  of  his  own, 
which  was  a very  tedious  process,  requiring  extraordinary  care.  He  soon, 
however,  succeeded  in  producing  what  was  then  considered  the  best  like- 
ness ever  taken  of  Mr.  Calhoun.  The  bust  was  purchased  by  the  city 
council  of  Charleston,  and  he  was  also  awarded  a gold  medal,  on  one  side 
of  which  was  inscribed  the  following : 


Aedes  Mores  Juraque  Curat.  (Artesque  Fovit) 
Ingenii  premium  virtuti  calcar. 

Id.  Apr.  m dcccxlvi. 


On  the  other  side  : 


To  Clark  Mills  as  a mark  of  respect  for  his  genius  for  sculpture  exhibited  in  his  bust  of  the  fa- 
vorite son  of  Carolina,  John  C.  Calhoun,  and  as  an  incentive  to  further  exertions,  this  medal  is  pre- 
sented by  the  City  Council  of  Charleston. 

“ Soon  after  this,  means  were  offered  him  by  the  wealthy  gentlemen  of 
Charleston  to  study  in  Europe.  This  circumstance  found  its  way  into  the 
newspapers,  and  in  a few  days  he  received  a letter  from  the  Hon.  John 
Preston  (a  gentleman  who  had  befriended  Powers),  which  stated  that 
he  had  seen  the  notices  about  his  visit  to  Italy,  and  that  he  wished 
him  to  come  to  Columbia,  S.  C.,  and  take  the  busts  of  himself  and 
wife  ; also,  that  Colonel  Wade  Hampton  desired  the  busts  of  himself 
and  daughters,  and  that  he  might  cut  them  in  marble  when  he  had 
farther  advanced  in  the  art.  He  took  the  advice  of  friends,  and  went  to 
Columbia.  After  taking  ten  busts  he  returned  to  Charleston.  A little  inci- 
dent  occurred  at  this  time  which  seemed  to  change  his  whole  course. 
When  he  called  to  take  leave  of  Win.  C.  Preston,  whose  acquaintance  he 
had  formed,  he  remarked  to  the  artist  that  he  should  see  the  statuary  at 
Washington  before  visiting  Europe.  He  replied  that  ‘if  he  should  spend 
his  means  in  travelling  about,  he  would  not  be  able  to  accomplish  his  main 


Sculptors. 


585 


object.’  ‘ As  for  the  expense,’  said  Mr.  P.,  ‘if  you  will  go  to  Washing- 
ton. and  take  the  busts  of  my  friends  Webster  and  Crittenden,  I will  pay 
your  expenses  there  and  back,  and  pay  you  for  the  busts  also.’  He  readily 
accepted  the  offer,  started  for  Washington,  stopping  in  Richmond,  Va.,  to 
see  the  statue  by  Huodon,  which  was  the  first  statue  he  had  ever  seen.  The 
first  thing  he  did  after  his  arrival  in  Washington  was  to  visit  the  Capitol, 
that  he  might  feast  his  eager  eyes  on  the  statuary  there.  He  saw  much  to 
admire,  and  much  which,  even  to  his  unpractised  eye,  appeared  imperfect. 
The  drapery  on  the  ‘ Statue  of  Peace  ’ seemed  to  surpass  human  skill,  and 
the  ‘Muse  of  History,’  recording  the  events  of  time,  he  thought  was  the 
grandest  and  most  sublime  idea  ever  conceived.  Of  the  statue  of  Wash- 
ington, by  Greenough,  he  thought  the  anatomy  perfect,  though  he  could  not 
associate  Washington  with  the  statue.  The  crowd  of  visitors,  so  far  as  he 
could  learn,  invariably  condemned  it  for  want  of  historical  truth.  He  came 
to  the  conclusion  while  standing  there  that,  should  he  ever  have  an  order  for 
a statue,  the  world  should  find  fault  for  his  giving  too  much  truth,  and  not 
for  the  want  of  it. 

“An  accidental  circumstance  here  gave  rise  to  the  order  for  the  Jackson 
statue.  He  was  introduced  to  the  Hon.  Cave  Johnson,  then  Postmaster- 
General,  and  President  of  the  Jackson  Monument  Committee,  who,  on 
learning  his  intention  to  visit  Europe,  proposed  that  he  should  give  a design 
for  a bronze  equestrian  statute  of  General  Jackson.  Never  having  seen  Gene- 
ral Jackson  or  an  equestrian  statue,  he  felt  himself  incompetent  to  execute  a 
work  of  such  magnitude,  and  positively  refused.  The  incident,  however, 
made  an  impression  upon  his  mind,  and  he  reflected  sufficiently  to  produce 
a design  which  was  the  very  one  subsequently  executed,  and  now  adorns 
the  public  square  in  front  of  the  White  House.  He  concluded  to  accept 
Mr.  Johnson’s  offer,  and  after  nine  months  of  patient  labor  he  succeeded  in 
bringing  out  a miniature  model  on  a new  principle,  which  was  to  bring  the 
hind  legs  of  the  horse  exactly  under  the  center  of  his  body,  which  of  course 
produced  a perfect  balance,  thereby  giving  the  horse  more  the  appearance 
of  life  ; the  model  was  adopted  by  the  committee.  A contract  was  made  for 
the  sum  of  twelve  thousand  dollars,  the  bronze  to  be  furnished  by  the  com- 
mittee. After  two  years’  labor  and  hard  study,  he  finished  the  plaster  model. 
After  waiting  nearly  nine  months,  Congress  appropriated  the  old  cannon  cap- 
tured by  General  Andrew  Jackson,  and,  under  various  disheartening  circum- 
stances, the  breaking  of  cranes,  the  bursting  of  furnaces,  after  six  failures 
in  the  body  of  the  horse,  he  finally  triumphed.  On  the  8th  of  January, 
1853,  the  statute  was  dedicated.  Soon  after,  Congress  voted  him  twenty 
thousand  dollars  to  remunerate  him  for  his  services.  The  sum  of  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  was  afterward  voted  for  an  equestrian  statue  of  General  George 
Washington,  and  that  also  occupies  a central  position  in  the  metropolis.  In 
the  following  spring,  the  city  of  New  Orleans  voted  thirty-five  thousand  dol- 
lars for  a duplicate  of  the  Jackson  statue.  A farm  was  purchased  on  the 
Baltimore  and  Washington  turnpike,  about  three  miles  from  Washington, 
for  the  purpose  of  erecting  the  necessary  buildings,  studio,  and  foundry. 


586 


American  Artist  Life. 


“ Having  completed  the  buildings,  he  was  about  to  commence  work,  when 
a gale  destroyed  the  studio.  Before  it  was  rebuilt,  the  foundry  was  de- 
stroyed by  fire,  but  it  was  rebuilt  as  soon  as  possible.  After  finishing  the 
statue  for  New  Orleans,  he  commenced  the  statue  of  Washington,  which 
was  completed  and  dedicated  on  the  22d  of  February,  i860.  The  living 
horse  after  which  this  statue  was  modelled  was  captured  on  a prairie  near 
Fort  Leavenworth,  and  was  considered  a remarkably  fine  animal.  He  was 
subsequently  purchased  of  the  artist  by  his  friend  James  H.  Hammond,  of 
South  Carolina,  as  an  acquisition  to  his  extensive  stud.  In  June,  i860,  Mr. 
Mills  commenced  the  work  of  casting  the  statue  of  Freedom,  after  Craw- 
ford’s design,  which  was  completed  in  1863,  and  now  stands  above  the  dome 
of  the  Capitol. 

“ Such  in  brief  is  the  story  of  another  self-made  man,  one  of  the  most  for- 
tunate of  American  artists.  That  he  possesses  genius  cannot  be  doubted  ; 
and  if  his  works  do  not  possess  all  the  conventional  graces  of  European 
art,  he  has  certainly  produced 'two  statues  which  are  original  and  in  perfect 
keeping  with  the  manly  vigor  of  the  great  Republic.  At  the  present  time 
Mr.  Mills  is  engaged  in  taking  busts  in  a manner  peculiarly  his  own  ; and 
while  he  is  assisted  by  one  son,  who  inherits  his  father’s  genius,  he  has  re- 
cently received  the  gratifying  news  from  Munich  that  another  son,  who  has 
been  studying  there  the  art  of  the  sculptor,  has  been  honored  with  the  first 
prize  of  the  Academy,  and  is  the  first  American  who  has  ever  received  a 
prize  at  that  institution.” 

Numerous  portrait-busts  have  been  executed  by  Henry  Dexter,  who  has 
long  had  a studio  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston  ; many  of  these  works  are  ex- 
cellent likenesses,  and  often  executed  with  skill  and  taste. 

Dexter.  A friend  of  the  artist  thus  sketches  the  circumstances  of 
his  early  life  : — 

“He  was  born  in  the  State  of  New  York,  and,  after  the  death  of  his 
father,  being  at  the  age  of  twelve,  he  removed  with  his  mother  and  sisters 
to  Connefificut.  He  soon  went  to  live  in  the  family  of  a farmer,  where  he 
worked  on  the  farm  in  summer,  and  went  to  school  in  the  winter.  His  mother 
had  an  earnest  wish  that  he  should  become  a minister  ; but  her  friends  all 
advised  he  should  learn  a trade,  regardless  of  the  boy’s  adaptation  to  any 
particular  pursuit.  Accordingly,  he  was  indentured  to  a blacksmith.  For 
the  next  five  years  he  labored  assiduously  at  the  forge.  But  Nature  had 
other  things  in  view.  She  had  not  dedicated  him  to  Vulcan,  but  to  Apollo, 
and  she  was  not  to  be  baffled  in  her  designs. 

“ While  a boy  at  home,  he  had  expressed  the  juice  of  berries,  and,  paper 
being  unattainable,  he  had  painted  his  childish  fancies  on  pieces  of  cloth. 
Fie  had  never  seen  a painting  ; but  the  longing  of  his  heart  was  to  be  an 
artist.  Blindly  groping  in  the  dark,  the  fibres  of  his  inner  nature  crept 
and  strove  toward  the  faint  light  they  found.  At  the  house  of  his  master, 
the  blacksmith,  he  saw  a fine  portrait  by  Alexander,  which  led  his  thoughts 
still  more  toward  painting.  In  his  own  words  : ‘ I longed  to  be  an  artist. 
I learned,  at  a certain  period,  that  Mr.  Alexander  intended  to  come  to  the 


Sculptors. 


587 


town  and  stay  a few  weeks  in  the  summer,  and  proposed  to  paint  some 
portraits.  How,  I hardly  know,  but  I procured  him  six  sitters,  and  added 
myself  to  the  list.  All  this  time  I never  breathed  to  any  one  my  aspira- 
tions.' I was  very  reserved  as  well  as  quite  young,  being  about  eighteen. 
Mr.  Alexander  came,  and  I had  my  first  sitting.  When  he  had  done  I 
expected  to  see  the  first  stage  of  the  process.  But  no  ; he  turned  the  can- 
vas to  the  wall  and  I saw  nothing.  I did  not  see  my  portrait  in  any  of  its 
stages.  Not  till  it  was  finished  did  I behold  it.  Neither  was  I more  suc- 
cessful with  those  of  the  other  sitters.  This  was  a great  disappointment 
to  me.  I had  hoped  to  learn  so  much,  and  had  learned  nothing.  I brooded 
over  my  hopes  in  secret.  The  forge  resumed  its  blast ; the  anvil  rang 
again  to  the  reluctant  blows  of  the  hammer.  Yet  still  I felt  that  I was 
born  to  be  an  artist.’ 

“ The  young  aspirant  married,  in  a few  years,  a niece  of  Mr.  Alexander. 
The  next  summer  he  went  privately  to  Hartford  and  bought  materials  for 
painting  in  oils,  secretly  trembling  lest  his  design  should  be  suspedted. 
It  is  curious  to  reflebt  that,  not  far  from  the  same  time,  Mr.  Alvan  Clark, 
the  astronomer,  at  a somewhat  earlier  age,  made  also  his  journey  to  Hart- 
ford, with  the  eager  design  to  become  an  engraver.  With  the  materials 
thus  purchased,  Mr.  Dexter  made  a portrait  of  his  mother,  which  he  re- 
tains in  his  possession,  and  afterward  several  other  pictures. 

“Mr.  Alexander  came  to  see  him.  He  commended  his  efforts,  and  said 
they  were  well  done.  ‘I  asked  him,’  said  Mr.  Dexter,  ‘about  certain 
effedts  which  I did  not  understand  how  to  produce.  He  said  to  me  : “Are 
you  determined  to  become  an  artist  ?”  I trembled,  was  confused,  and  knew 
not  what  to  say.  “Because,”  said  he,  “if  you  are,  what  are  you  going  to 
do  with  your  family  ? ” He  chilled  all  my  hopes,  checked  all  my  aspira- 
tions. He  threw  the  coldest  water  on  my  glowing  desires.  I turned 
abruptly,  and  said,  “ No  ; I will  give  it  all  up.”  ’ 

“For  seven  long  years  the  artist  touched  neither  paint  nor  canvas. 
Then  he  felt  that  he  had  won  the  right  to  claim  his  Rachel,  his  beloved. 
He  closed  up  his  place  of  business,  locked  the  door,  and  turned  away  a 
free  man.  Coming  to  Boston,  and  evincing  his  determination,  Mr.  Alex- 
ander encouraged  him  and  rendered  him  valuable  assistance.  He  took  a 
room  in  Bromfield  street,  and  painted  many  pictures.  His  expenses,  how- 
ever, exceeded  his  income.  Walking  one  day  with  Alexander,  the  latter 
pointed  out  a gentleman  passing,  saying  : ‘ That  is  Greenough,  the  sculp- 
tor. By  the  way,  he  is  going  to  Italy,  and  you  had  better  get  his  clay  ; it 
may  be  useful  to  you  some  time.  I’ll  speak  to  him  about  it.’ 

“ 4 He  did  speak  to  him,’  said  Dexter,  4 and  I got  the  clay.  It  lay  in  my 
room  a long  time.  I used  to  look  at  it  occasionally.  I thought  I could 
hammer  out  a statue  in  iron  on  the  anvil,  but  I did  not  understand  the  clay. 
One  day,  having  a leisure  hour,  I prepared  some  of  the  clay,  as  I supposed 
it  should  be  prepared.  I called  to  a young  man  who  had  a room  near  me, 
“ Here,  White,  step  in  here.”  He  came,  and  with  my  fingers  I modelled 
his  face  in  the  clay.  My  friend  Alexander  noticed  the  effort  with  commen- 


538 


American  Artist  Life. 


elation,  and  advised  me  to  model.  By  and  by  I had  an  order  for  a cast  of  a 
bust.  I continued  to  paint  till,  after  a time,  orders  for  modelling  came 
faster  than  orders  for  painting.  After  a few  months  I made  a bust  of 
Hon.  Samuel  A.  Eliot,  then  Mayor  of  Boston.  When  it  was  finished,  he  said 
to  me  : “ Mr.  Dexter,  I should  like  to  have  you  put  that  bust  in  marble.” 

“ ‘ I had  never  handled  a block  of  marble,  or  made  the  least  attempt  to 
do  so.  But  I procured  the  marble,  and  made  the  bust.  He  asked  me  what 
he  should  give  me  for  it.  I told  him  I did  not  know,  he  might  give  me  what 
he  thought  best.  I really  could  not  tell  what  it  was  worth,  never  having 
known  the  price  of  a marble  bust.  He  gave  me  two  hundred  dollars. 
Shortly  afterward  I met  him.  He  said  to  me  : “ Mr.  Dexter,  I think  I 
did  not  give  you  enough  for  that  bust  ; I should  like  to  give  you  fifty  dol- 
lars more.”  I was  amazed  at  his  generosity.  This  was  the  way  in  which 
I became  a sculptor.’ 

“ Mr.  Dexter’s  busts  soon  commanded  five  hundred  dollars.  He  is 
justified  in  grateful  acknowledgment  of  the  liberality  of  the  distinguished 
gentlemen  of  Boston  who  have  put  his  talent  in  requisition.  Other 
States  and  cities  besides  his  own  have  amply  shown  their  appreciation  of 
his  genius.  A long  array  of  noble  names  might  be  pointed  to  with  pride, 
but  our  artist  is  as  modest  as  he  is  gifted.  Among  his  early  and  popular 
statues  are  the  4 Binney  Child,’  at  Mount  Auburn;  the  ‘Backwoodsman,’ 
in  the  Boston  Athenaeum  ; and  the  beautiful  figures  of  the  children  of  Mr. 
J.  P.  Cushing,  of  Watertown,  exhibited  as  the  ‘Young  Naturalist  ’ and  the 
‘ First  Lesson.’  These  last  are  exquisitely  graceful  and  truthful. 

“At  the  close  of  the  year  1859,  Mr.  Dexter  undertook  a novel  and  sur- 
prising work.  He  proposed  collecting  into  one  historical  group  the  busts 
of  the  head  of  the  nation  and  its  separate  State  Governors  who  were  in 
office  the  first  day  of  January,  i860.  To  accomplish  this  marvellous  work, 
he  travelled  over  all  our  States,  except  California  and  Oregon,  receiving 
everywhere  honor  and  hospitality  from  North  and  South,  East  and  West. 
His  undertaking  was  eminently  successful.  On  his  return  home,  the  col- 
lection was  exhibited  in  the  Rotunda  of  the  State  House,  in  Boston,  and 
was  visited  by  upwards  of  thirty  thousand  people.  This  embodiment  of 
the  spirit  of  our  Government  in  that  eventful  year — the  last  of  the  Union 
on  the  old  basis — is  a work  of  profound  national  interest,  which  will 
deepen  with  advancing  years.  Thought,  aCtion,  wisdom,  power,  and  subtle 
intellect  are  variously  written  on  those  heads,  eloquent  in  their  silence. 
Owing  to  the  culmination  of  these  elements  in  our  political  atmosphere 
whose  ominous  gathering  caused  the  sculptor  to  undertake  this  work,  only 
one  third  of  these  heads  have  yet  been  made  in  the  marble.  The  rest  are 
to  follow.  One  of  the  noblest  of  these  busts  is  that  of  Governor,  now 
Secretary  Chase  : one  of  the  most  classically  beautiful,  that  of  Governor 
Ellis.  But  it  is  impossible  to  particularize  where  all  are  so  faithful  and 
spirited.  Among  the  Governors  the  names  of  Hicks  and  Morgan,  of  Mor- 
rill, and  Banks,  and  Chase,  are  particularly  conspicuous  at  present  in  the 
public  gaze. 


Sculptors. 


589 

u One  of  the  finest  busts  our  artist  has  ever  made  is  that  of  Professor 
Felton,  late  President  of  Harvard  College,  which  is  now  in  the  library  of 
that  institution.  It  is  perfect  in  form  and  finish,  in  strength  and  delicacy. 
Among  the  marble  busts  in  his  studio  at  the  present  time,  none  holds  a 
nobler  place,  or  is  of  greater  artistic  merit,  than  the  bust  of  the  late 
Governor  Wisner  of  Michigan. 

“ Dexter  has  resided  in  Cambridge  for  many  years  ; his  residence  and 
studio  are  on  Broadway.  In  his  studio  was  made  the  noble  statue  of 
Warren,  now  on  Bunker  Hill,  and  numerous  other  works.  It  is  pleasant 
to  the  few  who  are  permitted  to  interrupt  his  labor,  to  converse  with  him 
on  art ; and  as  they  look  at  some  beautiful  statue  or  bust  growing  under 
his  hand,  they  feel  the  truth  of  his  words:  ‘It  is  my  work,  and  my  whole 
soul  is  in  it.’ 

“ Dexter  has  made  many  statues,  and  about  three  hundred  busts,  all  of 
acknowledged  merit,  and  many  of  surpassing  excellence.  He  has  never 
seen  a sculptor  strike  a blow  on  a piece  of  marble,  and  all  his  works  have 
been  made  with  his  own  hands — a most  astonishing  record  of  industry 
and  application.  He  is  supereminently  an  American  artist,  yet  in  no  nar- 
row sense — in  one  that  takes  nothing  from  his  wider  claim.  Pie  is  stridtly 
a statuary,  confining  himself  to  the  figure,  the  highest  walk  of  art.  Left 
to  his  untrammelled  way,  his  conception  and  execution  are  alike  worthy  in 
power  and  beauty.  His  life  has  been  given  with  enthusiasm  to  art.  He 
has  spared  nothing  of  toil  or  devotion  to  it,  nothing  of  negation  of  most 
that  would  win  or  draw  him  from  it.” 

Chiefly  known  by  his  portrait-busts,  this  artist  is  engaged  on  an  elabo- 
rate work  of  which  the  following  account  is  given  in  a letter  dated  Chicago, 
May,  1864  : — 

“Mr.  Leo  W.  Volk,  sculptor,  has  just  wrought  into  Volk, 
plaster  a very  beautiful  and  expressive  model  for  a monu- 
ment to  Senator  Douglas.  There  is  a spot  in  the  southern  portion  of  this 
city  which  has  for  a long  time  now  been  the  resort  of  pilgrims  who  cherish 
the  memory  of  the  departed  statesman.  There,  on  the  banks  of  Lake  Mich- 
igan, so  near  that  a pebble  can  be  tossed  into  the  restless  blue  waters,  tire 
remains  of  Mr.  Douglas  repose  in  an  humble  grave  in  a glade  of  the  green- 
wood. Every  one  who  is  familiar  with  Chicago  resorts  knows  well  the  name 
of  ‘ Cottage  Grove.’  A line  of  horse-cars  terminates  there,  and,  on  Sun- 
days especially,  the  throng  that  seeks  the  shade  of  that  suburban  paradise 
is  large  and  eager.  There  are  various  attractions  there  : Camp  Douglas, 
with  its  soldiery,  and,  from  time  to  time,  its  rebel  rabble  of  prisoners,  abode 
close  in  the  dust- cloud,  and  the  roads  are  lined  with  German  gardens,  where 
music,  dancing,  and  revelry  profane  the  Sabbath.  Near  this  scene  Douglas 
sleeps — scarce  a rifle-shot  away— but  with  the  deadening  screen  of  a thou- 
sand trees  and  a million  rustling  leaves  between,  so  that  the  spot  is  really 
‘ solitary  and  sad  ’ enough.  Turning  aside,  the  visitor  walks  down  a grassy 
road  to  a stile,  by  which  he  enters  the  inclosure  sacred  to  the  departed 
statesman,  and  finds  nothing  better  to  mark  the  grave  than  an  iron  railing, 


590 


American  Artist  Life. 


within  which  loving  hands  keep  the  flowers  bright.  Mr.  Volk’s  design  is 
to  meet  the  public  call  for  a monument  at  this  place. 

a All  who  appreciate  the  just  in  monumental  art  will  perceive  at  once  the 
truth  and  purity  of  the  artist’s  design.  The  country  all  about  us  is  level  prai- 
rie ; hence  the  monument  is  a tall  and  graceful  shaft,  with  bases  having  bas-re- 
liefs and  statues,  and  including  a mausoleum.  The  total  height  will  be  one 
hundred  feet,  and  the  visitor  to  our  city  from  whatever  direction,  or  by  land 
or  by  water,  will  behold  the  column  piercing  the  blue  of  the  sky.  The 
statues  which  ornament  four  corners  of  the  base  are  of  Jackson,  Clay, 
Webster,  and  Cass,  who  were  contemporaries  of  Douglas,  and  who,  besides, 
represent  the  different  sections  of  our  country.  It  is,  of  course,  prema- 
ture to  speak  now  of  these  statues  as  works  of  art,  for  in  this  plaster 
model  they  are  so  small  that  their  heads  are  no  larger  than  peas  ; but  it 
must  be  admitted  they  are  curiously  expressive  of  the  characteristics  of 
the  men  in  attitude  and  ‘ out-look.’  Mr.  Healy,  to  whom  all  these  states- 
men sat  in  life  for  their  portraits,  pronounces  these  miniature  statues  won- 
drous likenesses — and  who  so  good  a judge  ? Yet  I am  assured  that  Mr. 
Volk  wrought  them  solely  from  recollection,  referring  to  no  portraits 
to  guide  him,  but  bearing  in  mind,  as  he  worked,  the  character  of  the 
men. 

“ The  base  of  the  pedestal  which  supports  the  column  exhibits  on  its  four 
sides  a series  of  historical  basso-relievo  pictures,  representing  the  progress 
of  that  civilization  in  the  West  with  which  Mr.  Douglas  was  so  closely 
identified.  And  the  column  is  crowned  with  a colossal  statue  in  bronze  of 
the  departed  ‘ Little  Giant.’  The  mausoleum  is  twenty  feet  square, 
and  through  a grated  bronze  door  the  spectator  will  be  able  to  behold  the 
sarcophagus  containing  the  remains  of  Mr.  Douglas,  reposing  there  in  a 
dim,  religious  light.  An  eagle  with  drooped  wings  sits  over  the  door  of 
the  mausoleum — an  eloquent  emblem  of  mourning  for  a great  man. 

“ Mr.  Volk  will  win  fresh  renown  to  his  already  enviable  name  as  a sculptor 
by  this  work.  As  a thoroughly  Western  work,  wrought  by  an  artist 
whose  soul  is  deeply  imbued  with  the  grand  principle  of  making  mighty 
the  genius  of  American  art,  untrammelled  with  the  fossil-haunted  ideas 
of  an  Old  World — as  such  a work  by  such  a man,  this  monument  will 
stand  as  firm  in  the  love  of  us  of  the  West  as  does  the  memory  of  the 
statesman  its  severe  beauty  will  honor.  More  than  any  of  his  previous 
works,  this  design  gives  voice  to  those  peculiarities  of  Volk’s  genius  of 
which  I have  long  seen  glimpses  in  the  man — his  exceeding  refinement, 
his  love  for  the  human  in  the  world,  and  his  power  of  idealizing  and  elevat- 
ing with  poetry  the  every-day  scenes  of  the  life  that  exists  close  around 
him.  And  beyond  these,  it  wakens  a new  strain  in  him  which  has  almost 
taken  his  admirers  by  surprise,  and  gives  us  a glimpse  of  his  fellowship 
with  the  grand  and  sublime.  Emphatically  Western  as  is  this  work  in  all 
its  details,  it  might  stand  as  a type  of  our  whole  nationality.” 

Joseph  Mozier  is  another  instance  of  a business  man  abandoning  trade 
at  a mature  age  for  art.  He  was  born  at  Burlington,  Vt.,  August  22d,  1812  ; 


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591 

and  after  years  of  activity  as  a Broad-street  merchant,  in  New  York,  he 
went  to  Italy,  and  established  himself  at  Rome  in  1845.  Since  then  he  has 
been  employed  upon  various  works  of  plastic  art,  many 
of  which  he  has  profitably  disposed  of.  His  “ Esther,”  Mozier. 
which  was  in  the  Exhibition,  was  sold  to  an  American,  and 
he  has  executed  another  for  a countryman.  “ The  Wept  of  Wish-ton- Wish  ” 
he  has  repeated  several  times  ; also  the  “ Tacite  ” and  “ Truth,”  companions, 
the  originals  of  which  were  executed  for  the  Astor  Library.  “ The  White 
Lady  of  Avenel”  is  a new  design.  “The  Peri,”  who  has  at  last  gained  an 
entrance  into  Paradise,  was  executed  for  a lady  in  Washington.  Her  left 
hand,  which  hangs  down,  has  three  tears  upon  it ; whilst  in  her  right  hand 
she  holds  one  of  the  “ thousand  goblets.” 

“Jephthah’s  Daughter,”  which  was  exhibited  in  London  last  year,  and 
bought  by  Mr.  Tite,  has  been  repeated  at  Chicago.  ‘‘Pocahontas”  and 
“ Rebecca  at  the  Well  ” were  early  works  ; one  of  his  latest  is  “ Rizpah.” 
She  is  represented  as  a seated  figure,  with  her  right  arm  raised  over  her 
head,  and  grasping  in  her  hand  a torch,  thrown  forward  as  if  to  illuminate  the 
gloom  into  which  she  peers,  well  embodying  the  incident  recounted  in  the 
strong  and  simple  language  of  the  Bible. 

Rogers,  a native  of  Virginia,  abandoned  mercantile  pursuits  in  early 
manhood,  for  sculpture.  After  a few  years  of  study  and  practice  at  Rome, 
he  returned  home  and  exhibited  several  pleasing  and  ex- 
pressive statues  in  New  York,  which  made  him  known  Randolph  Rogers, 
in  art,  won  many  friends,  and  induced  several  good  com- 
missions. Among  these  were  “ Nydia,”  the  blind  girl  of  Pompeii,  made 
so  familiar  by  Bulwer  Lytton’s  popular  novel ; in  a listening,  fugitive 
posture,  she  seems  to  hear  the  rushing  of  the  lava  about  to  overwhelm  the 
city ; it  is  an  effective  work,  though  the  main  idea  is  not  new  ; “ A Boy 
and  Dog,”  and  other  unpretending  subjects  were  skilfully  treated.  O11 
returning  to  Rome  after  his  marriage,  Rogers  executed  a statue  of  John 
Adams  ; he  has  made  several  good  busts  and  attractive  ideal  figures  ; but 
of  late  years,  his  name  is  identified  with  elaborate  monumental  works. 
His  bas-reliefs  for  the  doors  of  the  new  Capitol  extension  at  Washington, 
D.  C,  represent  the  principal  events  in  the  life  of  Columbus,  with  much 
skill  and  effeCt;  these  doors  were  cast  in  bronze  at  Munich.  His  “Angel 
of  the  Resurrection,”  for  Colonel  Colt’s  monument  at  Hartford,  Ct.,  is  impres- 
sive. The  left  hand  extending  downward  indicates  an  attitude  of  attention 
for  the  signal  to  blow  the  trumpet,  which  is  in  the  right  hand,  reposing  on 
the  bosom.  The  face,  looking  upward,  is  full  of  life.  It  is  a figure  which 
presents  a union  of  loveliness  and  majesty. 

For  some  years  Rogers  has  been  faithfully  occupied  in  finishing  the 
designs  for  the  Washington  Monument,  at  Richmond,  Va.,  commenced  by 
the  lamented  Crawford.  According  to  the  original  draft,  the  monument 
was  to  have  been  composed  only  of  the  equestrian  statue  of  Washington 
and  two  other  statues  of  Patrick  Henry  and  Jefferson.  Subsequently  the 
artist  was  commissioned  to  add  the  figures  of  Mason  and  Marshall ; and 


592 


American  Artist  Life. 


yet  later,  two  other  figures  of  Generals  Nelson  and  Marshall  were  ordered  ; 
but  of  the  last  four  Crawford  made  no  sketches.  At  this  point  Mr.  Rogers 
took  up  the  monument,  and  sent  his  designs  of  the  four  figures  just  men- 
tioned, which  were  accepted.  Crawford’s  intention  was  to  have  placed 
six  eagles  on  the  outer  pedestals  ; but  after  his  death,  six  allegorical 
figures  were  substituted,  seated,  with  military  trophies,  representing  Inde- 
pendence, Justice,  Revolution,  the  Bill  of  Rights,  Finance,  and  Colonial 
Juries.  Of  his  smaller  works,  “Ruth”  gleaning  the  scattered  ears,  timid 
but  trustful  in  expression,  and  “ Isaac  ” looking  up  with  joy  from  his  sacri- 
ficial pyre,  at  the  words  of  the  Angel — are  favorites.  A recent  letter  from 
Rome  thus  describes  the  monuments  upon  which  this  assiduous  and  skil- 
ful artist  is  now  engaged  : “ They  will  be  the  memorial  monuments  to  the 
illustrious  dead  who  have  fallen  to  complete  the  work  of  Washington.  Of 
these,  that  for  the  State  of  Rhode  Island,  to  be  set  up  in  the  city  of  Provi- 
dence, will  be  fifty  feet  high.  The  crowning  statue,  ten  feet  high,  is  of 
America,  leaning  on  the  sword  .now  gladly  sheathed,  and  holding  forth  gar- 
lands of  laurels  and  immortelles.  The  angles  of  the  pedestal  will  support 
four  statues,  each  seven  feet  in  height,  representing  the  four  branches  of  the 
service.  Still  below  will  appear  appropriate  bas-reliefs.  The  effeCt  of  the 
completed  monument,  as  given  in  photographs  kindly  shown  me  by  the 
artist,  is  very  pleasing  and  satisfying. 

A similar  monument,  still  larger  and  more  elaborate,  for  the  State  of 
Michigan,  is  now  in  rapid  progress,  though  the  design  is  not  yet  fully 
developed.  On  the  summit  appears  a statue  representing  Michigan,  of  the 
same  size  as  the  America  just  referred  to.  It  is  a warlike  figure,  moving 
forward  with  shield  aloft,  and  sword  drawn  back  for  the  thrust.  In  the 
girdle  which  binds  the  coat  of  mail  appears  the  Indian  tomahawk,  and  in 
the  hair  the  Indian  ornaments  of  shells  and  feathers,  indicating  the  youth 
of  the  State,  whose  lands  within  the  memory  of  living  men  were  the  home 
of  the  savage.  There  is  nothing  else  savage,  however,  in  the  representa- 
tion, which  is  full  of  grace  and  life. 

It  is  pleasing  to  know  that  for  these  works  the  artist’s  remuneration 
will  be  somewhat  adequate  to  their  cost  and  merit.  For  the  former  he  is 
to  be  paid  $50,000,  and  for  the  latter  $75,000,  money  which  may  be  put  by 
the  States  which  pay  it  to  the  account  of  public  education.” 

A “ Nymph,”  a fine  undraped  female  figure,  by  William  FI.  Rhinehardt, 
of  Baltimore,  Md.,  was  regarded  at  Rome,  where  he  has  had  a studio  for 
several  years,  as  a work  of  real  merit  and  much  promise. 

Rhinehardt.  His  “Woman  of  Samaria”  is  also  admired  for  the  pure 
and  deep  thoughtfulness  of  her  expression,  as  if  the  words 
of  Christ  had  sunk  into  her  soul.  He  has  charmingly  illustrated  maternal 
affedtion  in  his  “ Latona  and  her  Infant ; ” while  two  sleeping  babes,  on 
one  pillow,  are  full  of  nature  and  beauty.  In  the  intervals  of  ideal  work, 
Rhinehardt  has  been  occupied  with  portrait-busts  ; there  is  a good  speci- 
men in  the  collection  of  J.  C.  McGuire,  of  Washington,  D.  C.  But  this 
artist’s  works  are  best  known  and  prized  in  Baltimore,  the  home  of  his 


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593 


youth.  One  of  his  earliest  efforts,  “The  Woodman,”  is  in  possession  of 
Mrs.  Wyman,  of  that  city ; Mrs.  Henry  owns  his  statuette  of  “ Leander  ” 
and  his  “Indian  Maiden;”  his  fine  bas-reliefs  of  “Night”  and  “Morn- 
ing” belong  to  Augustus  C.  Albert,  Esq.,  and  his  life-size  statue  of  “Re- 
becca” to  A.  T.  Walters,  Esq. 

Richard  S.  Greenough,  a younger  brother  of  Horatio,  first  won  favor- 
able notice  as  a sculptor  by  his  spirited  composition  of  the  “ Boy  and 
Eagle;”  and  is  well  known  by  his  statue  of  Franklin, 
executed  for  the  city  of  Boston,  and  of  Governor  Win-  R.  S.  Greenough. 
throp,  at  Mount  Auburn.  He  has  been  established  for 
several  years  in  Paris  ; and  is  quite  successful  in  portrait-busts,  for  which 
many  of  his  countrymen  have  sat.  His  “ Boy  and  Eagle  ” belongs  to  the 
Boston  Athenaeum. 

His  bust  of  Shakespeare  is  excellent.  He  has  selected  the  Chandos 
pidture  and  other  authentic  portraits,  taking  scrupulously  the  features  in 
which  they  all  agree,  and  has  composed  an  ideal  head  of  intense  beauty 
and  truth.  England  possesses  no  head  of  Shakespeare  which  can  be 
compared  to  this.  The  English  Committee  of  the  Shakespeare  banquet 
“which  was  to  have  been”  held  at  the  Grand  Hotel,  were  delighted  to 
obtain  from  Mr.  Greenough  a promise  of  the  loan  of  this  bust  to  be  placed 
on  a pedestal  behind  the  chairman. 

Several  years  ago,  John  Jackson,  a native  of  Maine,  left  his  studio  in 
New  York  and  went  to  Italy,  commissioned  to  execute  a statue  of  Dr. 
Kane,  the  Ardtic  explorer.  Circumstances  subsequently 
occurred  which  caused  the  failure  of  the  enterprise  ; and  Jackson, 
the  artist  found  himself  in  a foreign  land  with  inadequate 
resources.  Previous  to  his  departure,  however,  he  had  acquired,  in  Bos- 
ton and  elsewhere,  an  excellent  reputation  for  his  busts  ; and  he  soon 
found  employment  in  Florence,  where  he  has  since  resided.  His  busts  of 
Rev.  Dr.  Beecher  and  Rev.  Dr.  Bethune  are  much  esteemed.  His  first 
ideal  work  has  elicited  much  praise:  the  subjedt  is  “Eve  and  Abel.” 
“ The  First  Vidtim  ” is  represented  as  a lad  clothed  only  in  a rough  skin, 
the  folds  of  which  help  the  composition  very  much.  He  rests  upon  his 
mother’s  knee,  and  she  sustains  him  with  her  hands,  looking  the  while 
piteously  into  his  face.  The  heaviness  of  death  is  well  indicated  by  the 
drooping  head  and  the  lifelessness  of  the  hands.  Eve  is  the  beautiful 
mother  of  man,  on  whose  face  the  consequences  of  the  first  sin  are  just 
beginning  to  leave  their  lines  of  care.  She  rests  upon  one  knee,  and  her 
glorious  figure  is  in  marked  contrast  to  that  of  the  dead  boy.  The  mother 
is  bending  over  her  son  with  an  expression  of  love  and  pity,  mingled  with 
wonder  at  the  strange  phenomenon  of  death. 

A few  years  since  a head  of  St.  Stephen,  upturned  in  agony  but  grand 
in  self-reliance  and  faith,  carved  from  a block  of  granite,  attracted  the 
notice  of  thousands  in  Boston  ; and,  upon  inquiry,  proved 
to  be  the  impromptu  work  of  Dr.  Rimmer,  who  then  Rimmer. 
dwelt  near  the  Quincy  quarries,  whence  he  shaped  this 

33 


594 


American  Artist  Life. 


impressive  head.  It  is  now  in  Florence,  Italy.  Since  then  the  artist  has 
wrought  a figure  of  the  most  rare  anatomical  power  and  truth  ; and  a group 
which  was  mistaken  for  Bunyan’s  Great  Heart  and  Giant  Grim  in  mortal 
struggle,  but  which  was  intended  to  represent  “ Union  and  Secession.” 

“ The  power  of  the  figure  in  its  complete  but  not  utmost  aCtion,  com- 
bined with  its  utter  freedom  from  passion  (for  his  prevailing  force  seemed 
to  make  no  motion  within),  and  the  manifest  benevolence  of  the  counte- 
nance, expressed  the  adequate  champion,  putting  out  of  the  way  the 
malignant  violence  that  would  impede  the  onward  course  of  the  pilgrims 
whom  he  was  conducting  to  a successful  goal.” 

His  latest  effort  in  sculpture  is  a statue  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  -which 
Thomas  Lee,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  presented  to  that  city,  where  it  now  orna- 
ments the  park  of  Commonwealth  Avenue  ; it  has  been  much  admired  for 
authenticity  and  effectiveness.  Since  the  completion  of  this  work,  Dr. 
Rimmer  has  devoted  his  remarkable  artistic  and  anatomical  knowledge  to 
educational  purposes  ; his  leCtures  to  the  artists,  and  his  admirable  system 
of  art-instruCtion  at  the  Female  Art-School  of  the  Cooper  Institute,  New 
York,  indicate  a great  practical  advance  in  the  means  and  methods  of  study, 
and  have  already  produced  most  desirable  results. 

Launt  Thompson  is  a native  of  Queen’s  County,  Ireland,  born  in  1833  ; 
his  widowed  mother  brought  him  to  America  when  he  was  fourteen  years 
old,  and  took  up  her  residence  in  Albany,  N.  Y.,  where 
Thompson.  dwelt  some  of  her  kindred.  While  in  the  office  of  Dr. 

Armsby,  Professor  of  Anatomy  in  that  city,  the  youth  oc- 
cupied his  leisure  in  drawing.  Fortunately  the  DoCtor  was  a lover  of 
art,  and  encouraged  his  protege's  studies  ; he  made  him  acquainted  with 
William  Hart,  the  landscape-painter,  who  in  turn  introduced  him  to  Palmer, 
the  sculptor  ; meantime  Thompson  had  entered  the  medical  college  ; but 
he  found  time  to  attend  a drawing  school  and  to  copy  subjects  loaned  him 
by  Hart.  The  DoCtor  was  not  slow  in  discovering  that  his  pupil  was  a 
“ natural  artist ; ” and  when  cameo-cutting  had  so  injured  Palmer’s  eyes 
that  he  substituted  modelling  and  chiseling  in  marble  therefor,  he 
opened  a studio  in  Albany,  and  offered  to  receive  Thompson  as  a pupil. 
It  may  be  imagined  with  what  alacrity  the  young  man  availed  himself  of 
this  opportunity,  and  abandoned  the  study  of  medicine  for  that  of  plastic 
art.  For  nine  years  he  lived  with  Palmer,  and  worked  in  his  studio.  His 
progress  was  rapid  : his  first  little  bust  he  exchanged  with  Church,  fresh 
from  his  South  American  studies,  for  a picture  by  that  artist ; a marble 
portrait  of  the  son  of  Robert  J.  Dillon,  the  Corporation  Attorney,  taken 
after  death,  proved  highly  successful  ; an  ideal  head — “ Little  Nell  ” — he 
twice  copied,  for  Thomas  Olcott  and  Thomas  H.  DeWitt;  and  a remark- 
able talent  for  medallion  portraits  developed  itself — so  that  upon  his  taking 
up  his  residence  in  New  York,  in  November,  1858,  he  found  ample  employ- 
ment. A specimen  of  his  skill  in  the  last-named  sphere  of  plastic  art, 
exhibited  at  the  National  Academy,  induced  his  immediate  election  as  an 
Associate  ; the  next  year  his  bust  called  the  “ Trapper,”  for  which  the 


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595 


famous  hunter  known  as  “ Grizzly  Adams  ” sat,  secured  his  election  as  an 
Academician  ; he  soon  became  a member  of  the  Council,  and  has  served 
on  the  important  committees,  especially  on  that  of  the  Fellowship  Fund 
for  the  eredtion  of  the  new  building.  Among”  the  best  works  of  Launt 
Thompson  are  a bust  of  Edwin  Booth  in  the  character  of  Hamlet ; a bas- 
relief  of  “ Elaine,”  from  Tennyson’s  Idyls  of  the  King  ; a colossal  bust 
of  Bryant  ordered  by  C.  H.  Luddington,  and  to  be  cast  in  bronze  and 
eredted  in  the  Central  Park  ; a medallion  likeness  of  General  Dix,  which 
the  artist  contributed  to  the  Metropolitan  Sanitary  Fair  ; a bas-relief  called 
“ Morning  Glory  ” for  James  M.  Hart ; marble  life-sized  busts  of  Samuel 
Hallettand  his  wife,  of  the  late  Thomas  Tileston,  Captain  Charles  Marshall, 
and  Robert  B.  Minturn,  of  New  York,  in  the  possession  of  their  respedtive 
families  ; one  of  James  Gordon  Bennett ; a design  for  a statue  of  Major 
General  Sedgwick,  subscribed  for  by  the  Sixth  Army  Corps,  and  to  be 
eredted  at  West  Point;  and  a colossal  statue  of  Napoleon  in  bronze,  ex- 
ecuted for  Mr.  Pinchot,  of  Milford,  Pa.,  a gentleman  who  served  in  the 
French  armies  under  the  Empire,  and  has  resided  in  this  country  for  a 
half  century. 

Soon  after  the  outbreak  of  the  late  civil  war,  a fresh  and  favorite  kind  of 
plastic  art  began  to  gain  popular  favor  and  critical  approval.  It  consisted 
of  very  expressive  and  admirably  modelled  small  groups 
illustrating  familiar  subjedts  of  daily  life  and  salient  epi-  Rogers, 
sodes  of  the  camp  and  the  battle-field.  The  following 
themes  were  thus  cleverly  illustrated  : “ Taking  the  Oath,”  “ One  More 
Shot,”  “Wounded  Scout,”  “Union  Refugees,”  “Country  Post  Office,” 
“ Home  Guard,”  “ Bush-whacker,”  “ Charity  Patient,”  “ Uncle  Ned’s 
School,”  “ Returned  Volunteer,”  “ Mail  Day,”  “ Town  Pump,”  “ Camp 
Fire,”  “ Picket  Guard,”  “ Village  Schoolmaster,”  “ Checker  Players.” 

John  Rogers  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  and  employed  in  a store  in 
Boston  for  some  time  after  leaving  school.  Then  he  commenced  civil  en- 
gineering ; but,  having  strained  his  eyes,  went  into  a machine  shop  at  Man- 
chester, N.  H.,  as  an  apprentice.  He  worked  up  through  all  the  branches, 
including  the  draughting-room  and  office,  and  finally  had  charge  of  a rail- 
road repair-shop  in  the  West. 

During  the  eight  years  he  was  in  the  machinery  business,  he  used  to 
amuse  himself,  when  he  had  any  spare  time,  by  making  sketches  in  clay. 
Pie  longed  to  pursue  modelling  exclusively  ; and,  finally,  toward  the  close  of 
1858,  he  made  atrip  to  Europe  to  see  and  learn  something  of  art — but 
not  perceiving  how  he  could  turn  his  style  of  designs  to  account,  and 
having  no  great  sympathy  for  the  classic  style,  he  returned,  after  a few 
months’  absence,  intending  to  follow  modelling  as  an  amusement  only,  and 
engaged  as  draughtsman  in  a surveyor’s  office  in  Chicago.  But  learning, 
while  there,  of  a peculiar  mode  for  casting  intricate  figures,  the  old  desire 
came  back,  and  he  modelled  the  group  of  the  “ Slave  Auction,”  and  came 
with  it  to  New  York  in  December,  1859.  He  learned  casting  from  an  Italian, 
and  kept  at  work  until  he  had  thoroughly  mastered  it;  then  the  War  for 


596 


American  Artist  Life. 


the  Union  broke  out,  and  the  “ Picket  Guard  ” and  other  war  subje6ls 
brought  his  works  into  notice.  It  was  some  years  before  he  could  pay 
expenses,  but  for  the  last  three  years  he  has  no  reason  to  complain,  many 
hundred  groups  having  been  sold. 

A New  York  journal  thus  describes  the  reception  and  character  of  these 
statuettes  : — 

11  All  day,  and  every  day,  week  in  and  week  out,  there  is  an  ever  changing 
crowd  of  men,  women,  and  children,  standing  stationary  amid  the  ever- 
surging  tides  of  Broadway,  before  the  windows  of  Williams  & Stevens, 
gazing  with  eager  interest  upon  the  statuettes  and  groups  of  the  sculptor, 
John  Rogers.  These  works  appeal  to  a deep  popular  sentiment.  They 
are  not  pretentious  displays  of  gods,  goddesses,  ideal  characters,  or  stu- 
pendous, world-compelling  heroes.  They  are  illustrations  of  American 
domestic,  and  especially  of  American  military  life — not  of  our  great  generals 
or  our  bold  admirals,  or  the  men  whose  praises  fill  all  the  newspapers  ; 
but  of  the  common  soldier  of  the  Union — not  of  the  common  soldier 
either,  in  what  might  be  called  his  high  heroic  moods  and  moments,  when, 
with  waving  sword  and  flaming  eye,  he  dashes  upon  the  enemy’s  works  ; 
but  of  the  soldier  in  the  ordinary  moments  and  usual  occupations  of  every- 
day camp-life.  For  the  last  year  or  more,  Mr.  Rogers  has  been  at  work 
mainly  on  groups  of  this  latter  class  and  character.  Thus  he  has  given  us 
‘ The  Returned  Volunteer,  or  How  the  Fort  was  Taken,’  being  a group 
of  three  gathered  in  a blacksmith’s  shop,  the  characters  consisting  of  the 
blacksmith  himself,  standing  with  his  right  foot  on  the  anvil-block  and  his 
big  hammer  in  his  hand,  listening  eagerly,  with  his  little  girl,  to  a soldier 
who  sits  close  by  on  his  haunches,  narrating  ‘ how  the  fort  was  taken.’ 
We  have  also  another  group  of  three,  ‘The  Picket  Guard,’  spiritedly 
sketched,  as  in  eager,  close,  and  nervous  search  for  the  enemy ; — the 
1 Sharp-shooters,’  another  group  of  three,  or  rather  of  two  men  and  a 
scarecrow,  illustrating  a curious  practice  in  our  army  of  deceiving  the 
enemy; — the  ‘ Town  Pump’  a scene  in  which  a soldier,  uniformed  and 
accoutred,  is  slaking  his  thirst  and  holding  blessed  converse  beside  the 
pump  with  a pretty  girl  who  has  come  for  a pail  of  water  ; — the  ‘ Union 
Refugees,’  a pathetic  and  noble  group,  consisting  of  a stalwart  and  sad- 
faced East  Tennesseean  or  Virginian,  who,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  who 
leans  her  head  upon  his  bosom,  and  by  his  little  boy,  who  looks  up  eagerly 
into  his  face,  has  started  off  from  home  with  only  his  gun  upon  his  shoulder 
and  his  powder-horn  by  his  side,  to  escape  the  tyranny  of  the  rebels  ; — the 
‘ Camp  Fire,  or  Making  Friends  with  the  Cook,’  in  which  a hungry  sol- 
dier, seated  upon  an  inverted  basket,  is  reading  a newspaper  to  an  ‘ intel- 
ligent contraband  ’ who  is  stirring  the  tempting  contents  of  a huge  and 
ebullient  pot  hung  over  the  fire  ; — ‘ Wounded,  to  the  Rear,  or  One  More 
Shot,’  in  which  a soldier  is  represented  as  dressing  his  wounded  leg,  while 
his  companion,  with  his  left  arm  in  a sling,  is  trying  to  load  his  gun  to  take 
another  shot  at  the  enemy,  toward  whom  he  looks  defiantly  ; — ‘ Mail  Day,’ 
which  tells  its  own  story  of  a speculative  soldier,  seated  on  a stone  and 


Sculptors. 


59  7 


racking  his  poor  brains  to  find  some  ideas  to  transcribe  upon  the  paper 
which  he  holds  upon  his  knee,  to  be  sent,  perchance,  to  her  he  loves  ; — 4 The 
Country  Postmaster,  or  News  from  the  Army,’  which,  though  a scene  from 
civil  life,  tells  of  the  anxiety  of  the  soldier’s  wife  or  sweetheart  to  get 
tidings  from  the  brave  volunteer  who  is  perilling  his  life  on  the  battle-field  ; 
— 4 The  Wounded  Scout,  or  a Friend  in  the  Swamp,’  representing  a sol- 
dier, torn,  and  bleeding,  and  far  gone,  rescued  and  raised  up  by  a faithful 
and  kind-souled  negro — which,  we  think,  is  one  of  the  best,  if  not  the  very 
best  of  Mr.  Rogers’  works  ; and  lastly  a group  called  4 The  Home  Guard, 
or  Midnight  on  the  Border,’  in  which  a heroic  woman,  accompanied  by  a 
little  girl,  is  represented  as  stepping  out,  pistol  in  hand,  to  confront  the 
assailants  of  her  humble  home.” 

A few  years  ago  the  good  people  of  Brattleboro,  Vt.,  were  startled  and 
delighted,  one  winter  morning,  by  the  sight  of  a colossal  snow  image  at  the 
angle  of  two  of  the  large  avenues  of  the  town.  It  wore 
the  form  of  a majestic  angel,  crude  in  outline,  but  effective  Meade, 
and  graceful.  It  was  the  wonder  of  the  village  until  it 
melted  away.  Meanwhile  the  faCt  soon  transpired  that  this  marvellous 
creation  was  the  work  of  a youth,  the  son  of  a prominent  lawyer  of  Brat- 
tleboro. The  story  got  into  the  papers,  and  met  the  eye  of  good  old  Mr. 
Longworth,  of  Cincinnati — a man  who  had  a passion  to  cherish  native  art, 
especially  sculpture.  He  wrote  to  the  postmaster  of  Brattleboro,  and  in- 
quired about  the  young  impromptu  artist,  and  hearing  satisfactory  accounts, 
held  out  to  him  substantial  encouragement  to  commence  the  study  of 
plastic  art.  The  first  fruit  of  his  new  career  was  a statue  of  Ethan  Allen, 
made  from  Rutland  marble,  and  now  standing  in  the  portico  of  the  State 
House  at  Montpelier.  The  civil  war  broke  out,  and  young  Meade  hastened 
to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  whence  he  sent  numerous  spirited  and 
graphic  illustrations  of  camp-life  and  battle-scenes  to  a New  York  illus- 
trated paper.  At  length  he  was  enabled  to  fulfil  his  long-cherished  pur- 
pose, and  visit  I'taly.  Hiram  Powers,  a Vermonter  himself,  and  a true 
patriot,  welcomed  the  youth  to  Florence,  and  cheered  him  on.  In  a few 
months  he  executed  a pleasing  work,  44  Echo,”  which  speedily  found  a 
purchaser  among  his  errant  countryman,  and  continued  for  three  years  to 
prosecute  his  art  with  zeal  and  intelligence  ; finding  time,  notwithstanding, 
during  a sojourn  in  Venice,  to  win  and  wed  a fair  daughter  of  that  vener- 
able, picturesque,  and  unfortunate  city.  And  then  Larkin  G.  Meade  came 
home,  bringing  the  fruits  of  his  exile,  which  he  exhibited  in  the  large 
gallery  in  the  Studio  building  in  Tenth  street.  These  specimens  of  sculp- 
ture indicate  both  variety  and  scope,  grasp  and  ideality.  They  consisted 
of  four  pieces  : First,  44  The  Returned  Soldier,  or  the  Battle  Story,”  repre- 
senting (life-size)  a Union  soldier  with  a little  girl  between  his  knees  and 
leaning  on  his  stalwart  form  in  a childlike  abandon , while  he  earnestly 
relates  the  story  of  the  war.  The  attitude  of  both  figures,  as  well  as  the 
expression  of  each,  are  full  of  life,  interest,  and  significance  ; they,  indeed, 
tell  the  story  to  the  eye.  The  subject  and  execution  of  this  group  insure 


598 


American  Artist  Life. 


its  popularity.  The  other  pieces  were  “ La  Contadinella,”  “ The  Thought 
of  Freedom,”  and  “Echo” — all  attractive  and  effective.  A cordial  and 
appreciative  reception  awaited  the  young  artist,  who  also  brought  with  him 
an  elaborate  design,  in  plaster,  of  a monument  to  President  Lincoln,  the 
most  seasonable  one  he  could  possibly  exhibit,  and  for  which  he  soon  re- 
ceived a commission  ; and  he  has  returned  to  his  studio  at  Florence  to 
execute  it  and  several  other  works. 

Henry  J.  Haseltine,  of  Philadelphia,  has  executed  several  allegorical 
groups  which  indicate  much  inventive  expression  and  poetical  significance  : 
among  them  are  “ Superstition  ” and  “ Religion,”  repre- 
Haseltine.  sented  by  a heathen  and  a Christian  mother,  the  one 
offering  her  child  a sacrifice  to  Moloch,  and  the  other  pre- 
senting hers  for  holy  baptism;  they  belong  to  J.  Newton  Sears,  of  New 
York.  Haseltine’s  “Excelsior”  gives  effectively  the  ascending  movement 
of  the  aspiring  youth — while  Love,  Wisdom,  Experience,  and  Death  are 
represented  in  appropriate  figures  in  the  bas-reliefs  of  the  pedestal  : this 
work  is  in  the  collection  of  Le  Grand  Lockwood.  “ Captivity  ” and 
“Liberty”  belong  to  Mrs.  C.  M.  Gibson,  of  Philadelphia;  “ Spring, 
Flowers  ” and  “ Autumn  Leaves  ” are  sweetly  illustrated  by  expressive 
figures  and  wreaths — hilarious  and  pensive — eloquent  of  the  two  seasons  ; 
“ New  Wine,”  ‘‘America  Victorious,”  and  “ Grateful  and  Ungrateful  Love,” 
tell  quite  diverse  stories  in  an  ingenious  and  ideal  way,  through  graceful 
forms  of  plastic  art  conceived  with  vividness  and  executed  with  skill. 

A letter  from  Rome  thus  alludes  to  this  artist : “ Returning  to  his 
studies  after  an  honorable  soldierly  career  in  the  Union  army,  he  is  now 
finishing  a memorial  monument  for  the  Union  League  of  Philadelphia. 
Upon  a pedestal  ornamented  with  bas-reliefs  is  placed  a statue  six  feet  in 
height,  of  America  honoring  her  fallen  brave.  It  is  a figure,  gracefully 
draped,  advancing  with  firm  but  pensive  step  ; while  the  head,  slightly 
inclined,  the  calm,  subdued  sadness  of  the  thoughtful  face,  well  express 
the  artist’s  fine  ideal  of  a ‘ proud  sorrow.’  Here  also  are  the  garlands  of 
laurels  and  immortelles,  but  with  a new  disposition — clasped  upon  the 
breast,  with  the  left  hand  falling  at  the  side,  in  the  right,  as  if  to  be  solemnly 
and  reverently  bestowed.  With  such  an  air  a mother  might  come,  after 
years  had  passed,  to  the  grave  of  her  brave  dead.  From  this  figure  several 
fine  busts  have  been  already  modelled,  as  well  as  a complete  copy  re- 
duced to  three-quarter  size.  On  the  hem  of  the  mantle  is  a dolphin  to 
indicate  the  navy,  crossed  cannons  for  the  army,  and  an  eagle  as  a 
symbol  of  the  Union,  while  on  the  pedestal  are  all  the  emblems  of  the 
United  States. 

“ I noticed  here  also  a bronze  ‘Excelsior,’  with  the  aCtion  and  the  look 
which  the  poem  suggests,  and  bringing  out  its  substantial  thought — the 
career  of  irrational,  insatiable,  but  inflexible  ambition,  admired,  mourned, 
and  condemned  by  turns.  This  figure  is  a copy  of  one  in  marble  now  in 
New  York.  Two  contrasted  groups  of  the  Christian  and  the  heathen 
mother — the  one  trustfully  presenting  her  babe  for  baptism  ; the  other,  with 


Sculptors.  599 

a sharp  struggle  between  superstition  and  natural  aflfefition,  preparing  to 
surrender  hers  for  idolatrous  sacrifice — well  repay  examination. 

“ There  is  a fine  little  bronze,  to  be  executed  hereafter  on  a larger  scale, 
of  ‘ America  Triumphant,’ a figure  full  of  calm  dignity  and  confidence, 
sheathing  the  sword  with  hearty  good  will,  fresh  as  at  the  opening  rather 
than  the  close  of  battle,  the  face  perhaps  a trifle  too  triumphant  to  suit  any 
but  Americans  in  the  hour  of  victory  ; but  one  statue  cannot  express  all 
emotions.  I must  pass  by  other  finished  figures,  merely  noticing  recent 
models  for  two  promising  groups  of  ‘ Grateful  and  Ungrateful  Love.’  ” 

Mr.  Connolly,  a young  American  sculptor  at  Florence,  has  gained  rap- 
idly in  public  estimation  by  his  well-executed  portrait-busts, 
and  a few  ideal  works  exhibiting  both  force  and  feeling.  Other  Sculptors. 

Montague  Handley,  of  New  York,  son  of  the  late  Captain  Handley,  of 
the  British  Army,  has  executed  a fine  bust  of  “ Diana,”  purchased  by  Mrs. 
Albert,  of  Baltimore,  while  in  Rome  ; his  “ Bacchus  ” and  “ Flora  ” are 
much  liked  by  the  artists,  and  he  is  regarded  as  a promising  young 
sculptor. 

Franklin  Simmons,  of  Providence,  R.  I.,  executed  a bust  of  President 
Lincoln,  which  has  been  put  in  bronze  by  William  Miller,  of  the  same 
city,  who  has  also  made  a series  of  large  medallions  of  distinguished 
native  citizens,  civil  and  military. 

Barbee,  of  Louisiana,  is  known  by  his  eccentric  statue  of  the  “ Coquette,” 
and  several  busts  ; John  A.  King,  a Scotch  sculptor,  long  resident  in  Mas- 
sachusetts, has  modelled  many  fine  heads  ; and  Kuntze,  a German  artist 
in  New  York,  is  the  author  of  statuettes,  portraits,  a Puck  in  bronze,  etc.  ; 
in  the  Antiquarian  Hall,  at  Worcester,  Mass.,  is  a bust  of  Isaiah  Thomas, 
by  B.  H.  Kinney;  Kneeland’s  “Trotting  Horse,”  a spirited  bas-relief,  is  in 
the  possession  of  J.  C.  McGuire,  Esq.,  of  Washington,  D.  C. 

McDonald,  who  is  so  favorably  known  by  his  portrait-busts  of  John  Van 
Buren  and  Charles  O’ Conor,  is  modelling  a life-sized  female  figure,  which 
he  calls  “ Somnambula.”  The  sleep-walker,  who  is  a fully-developed  woman, 
is  represented  as  having  risen  in  the  night  and  gone  forth  into  the  garden. 
In  her  right  hand  (which  is  held  over  her  head)  she  bears  a lamp.  The 
night  wind  has  carried  the  thin  drapery,  which  she  wears,  behind  her,  re- 
vealing a form  and  face  of  fine  prorortions. 

Colonel  Henry,  of  Kentucky,  has  modelled  a most  creditable  bust  of 
Lincoln,  now  in  the  U.  S.  Court  Room  of  Louisville. 

Edwin  E.  Brackett  was  born  in  Vassalboro’,  Me.,  October  i,  1819.  He 
began  his  career  as  an  artist  in  1838  ; and  has  confined  himself  for  the  most 
part  to  portrait-busts  ; among  which  are  those  of  Presi- 
dent Harrison,  Richard  H.  Dana  senior,  Washington  Brackett. 
Allston,  W,  C.  Bryant,  H.  W.  Longfellow,  Rufus  Choate, 

Charles  Sumner,  John  Brown,  Wendell  Phillips,  W.  Lloyd  Garrison,  and 
General  Butler.  His  group  of  the  “ Shipwrecked  Mother,”  is  at  Mount 
Auburn  ; one  of  his  most  elaborate  works,  was  purchased  by  subscription 
for  the  Boston  Athenaeum. 


6oo 


American  Artist  Life. 


Three  remarkable  ideal  busts  have  been  lately  executed  by  Thomas 
Gould,  of  Boston.  One  is  a striking  and  original  rendering  of  “ Mephis- 
topheles,”  another  a very  graceful  embodiment  of  Shake- 
Gould.  speare’s  “ Imogen,”  and  the  third  represents  “ Childhood.” 
The  absolute  individuality  and  subtle  expressiveness,  as 
well  as  the  careful  finish  of  these  heads,  which  are  executed  in  marble, 
are  the  more  noteworthy,  inasmuch  as  they  are  the  work  of  a new  Ameri- 
can candidate  for  a sculptor’s  fame,  whose  portrait-bust  of  Emerson  is 
considered  by  his  friends  as  the  best  likeness  of  him,  and  is  a favorite  or- 
nament of  the  library  of  Harvard  University. 

Martin  Millmore,  a Boston  boy,  was  born  in  1845,  and  graduated  at  the 
Brimmer  School ; after  some  time  passed  at  the  Latin  school,  he  entered 
the  studio  of  Mr.  Ball  in  July,  i860.  His  first  effort  was 
Millmore.  a bust  of  himself,  modelled  by  the  aid  of  a looking-glass. 

The  success  of  this  decided  his  course.  A short  time 
afterward  he  modelled  an  alto-relief  of  “ Prosphor,”  an  ideal  subject, 
which  was  placed  on  exhibition  and  purchased  by  a gentleman  of  Boston. 
He  afterward  made  two  copies  of  the  same  subject,  one  for  Mr.  Turner 
Sargent,  and  one  for  a gentleman  in  Berlin,  Prussia.  In  1863  he  modelled 
his  statuette  of  “ Devotion,”  as  a contribution  to  the  Sanitary  Fair,  which 
attracted  some  attention.  The  same  year,  he  executed  in  marble  a por- 
trait of  a beautiful  child.  He  soon  afterward  took  a studio  for  himself, 
where  his  first  productions  were  cabinet  busts  of  Longfellow  and  Sumner, 
modelled  from  life.  In  September  of  1864,  he,  then  in  his  nineteenth  year, 
received,  through  Turner  Sargent,  Esq.,  a gentleman  of  judgment  and 
artistic  taste,  the  commission  to  execute  in  granite,  statues  of  Ceres,  Flora, 
and  Pomona,  for  the  Horticultural  Hall,  in  Boston.  The  smaller  figures 
are  eight  feet  in  height.  The  Ceres — a figure  of  twelve  feet  and  six  inches 
in  height — he  modelled  in  plaster.  He  selected  the  granite  from  a quarry 
that  was  just  opened  at  Fitzwilliam,  N.  H.  He  was  assisted  in  the  cutting 
of  the  figures  in  granite  by  his  two  brothers.  The  largest  block  weighed 
about  thirty-five  tons,  each  of  the  smaller,  fifteen.  He  was  two  years  en- 
gaged on  this  work.  In  the  fall  of  1865  he  made  his  life-sized  bust  of 
Senator  Sumner.  In  March  of  ’67,  he  submitted  a design  for  a monument 
to  be  ereCted  at  Forest  Hills,  by  the  city  of  Roxbury,  in  memory  of  her 
sons  who  fell  in  the  Great  Rebellion,  which  was  accepted  by  that  city.  It 
represents  the  American  volunteer — the  private  soldier  equipped  in  his 
overcoat,  resting  on  his  gun,  and  contemplating  the  graves  of  his  com- 
rades. It  is  seven  feet  in  height,  and  was  cast  in  bronze  at  the  foundery 
at  Chicopee.  Millmore  also  executed  a bust  of  Hon.  George  Ticknor,  the 
historian  of  Spanish  literature,  for  the  Public  Library  of  Boston.  He 
has  also  made  marble  portraits  of  C.  O.  Whitmore,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  and 
of  General  Thayer,  late  of  West  Point  ; and  an  ideal  bust  of  u Miranda.” 
A new  feature  has  been  presented  to  American  visitors  at  Roman 
studios  within  a few  years,  by  the  number  of  their  countrywomen  devoted 
to  plastic  art.  Doubtless  an  amiable  exaggeration  has  marked  the  public 


Sculptors.  6c  i 

commendation  of  their  efforts,  partly  arising  from  the  national  deference 
to  and  sympathy  with  the  sex  ; and  partly  from  the  ignorance  prevalent 
among  the  untravelled  in  our  country  as  to  the  processes 
and  precedents  of  the  art.  Those  who  are  aware  from  Female  Sculptors, 
personal  observation  of  the  amount  and  kind  of  mechanical 
labor  bestowed  upon  statuary  by  Italian  marble-workers  and  assistants 
in  studios,  and  familiar  with  the  vast  number  of  subjects  which  have  been 
treated  so  often  by  the  ancient  and  modern  sculptors,  will  not  readily 
accord  originality  or  even  dexterity  in  the  details  of  such  works  ; knowing 
how  much  is  done  by  skilful  employees,  and  how  readily  imitative  enter- 
prise can  avail  itself  in  Rome  of  the  innumerable  exemplars  there  exposed 
to  view.  On  the  other  hand,  the  moral  energy  and  self-denying  devotion 
with  which  some  of  these  fair  votaries  of  art  pursue  their  chosen  vocation  ; 
the  independence  and  character  involved  therein  ; and  the  enthusiasm  and 
perseverance  exhibited,  cannot  fail  to  initiate  a new  and  auspicious  phase 
of  woman’s  activity  and  scope,  freedom  and  faith. 

The  daughter  of  the  late  Dr.  Hosmer,  of  Watertown,  Mass.,  is  perhaps 
the  most  widely  known  among,  the  American  female  sculptors  at  Rome. 
She  was  born  in  the  pleasant  rural  town  where  her  father 
long  practised,  OClober  3,  1831.  Her  most  obvious  Harriet  Hosmer. 
characteristic  from  childhood  was  strength  of  purpose. 

The  death  of  her  mother  by  a gradual  decline,  impressed  upon  her  father 
the  necessity  of  good  physical  training,  then  and  now  so  much  ne- 
gleCted  among  girls.  He  encouraged  her  in  athletic  exercises  ; and  she 
became  expert  in  rowing,  riding,  and  skating.  A comparatively  lonely 
life  in  her  widowed  father’s  house  gave  her  much  freedom  ; she  delighted 
in  her  horse  and  dog,  and  was  not  easily  amenable  to  discipline  when 
placed  under  instructors.  Vigorous  in  body  and  bright  in  mind,  she  was 
untamed  and  wilful ; and  many  anecdotes  are  related  of  her  practical 
jokes  and  boyish  freaks.  Placed  under  the  judicious  educational  care  of 
Mrs.  Sedgwick,  of  Lenox,  Mass.,  in  the  healthful  mountain  air  and  in- 
tellectual social  influences  of  that  delightful  village,  she  gained  knowledge, 
self-control,  and  development ; while  her  aCtive  habits  of  body  continued. 
She  had  modelled  a little  for  amusement,  and  on  leaving  school  she  took 
lessons  therein  of  Mr.  Stephenson,  of  Boston  ; and  soon  finished  the  bust 
of  a child.  Visiting  a school  friend  at  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  she  attended  anatom- 
ical leclures  there.  She  travelled  in  the  West  unattended,  visited  the 
Dacotah  Indians  and  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  climbed  to  the  summit  of 
what  was  deemed  an  inaccessible  bluff,  and  finally  returned  to  her  New 
England  home  to  occupy  a studio  her  father  had  prepared  for  her  in  the 
garden.  She  executed  a reduced  copy  of  a bust  of  Napoleon,  and  an  ideal 
head  called  “ Hesper.”  The  muscular  adaptation  and  strength  attained 
by  exercises  unusual  with  her  sex,  contributed  greatly  to  her  success  in 
the  manipulation  of  the  clay.  Her  next  task  was  to  cut  in  marble  a copy 
of  a friend’s  likeness  by  Clevenger.  An  acquaintance  formed  at  this  time 
with  Charlotte  Cushman,  the  generous  and  intelligent  aCtress,  led  to  a 


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visit  abroad  with  her  father  and  new  friend  in  the  autumn  of  1852.  On 
reaching  Rome,  Dr.  Hosmer  took  daguerrotypes  of  “ Hesper”  to  Gibson, 
the  English  sculptor,  and  asked  him  to  allow  his  daughter  to  become  that 
artist’s  pupil.  He  hesitated  at  the  proposal,  but  upon  examining  the  evi- 
dence of  the  young  lady’s  proficiency,  accepted  it.  She  was  soon  at  work 
amid  the  marble  wonders  of  Gibson’s  studio  in  the  Via  Fontanella.  Her 
perseverance  and  industry  were  remarkable.  She  copied  the  head  of  the 
“ Venus  de  Milo,”  the  “ Cupid  ” of  Praxiteles,  and  the  “ Tasso”  of  the  British 
Museum,  alternating  her  art-studies  with  gallops  across  the  Campagna,  unat- 
tended, to  the  astonishment  of  both  natives  and  foreigners.  Her  first 
original  attempt  was  a head  of  “ Daphne,”  then  one  of  “ Medusa,”  which  her 
master  praised.  They  were  sent  to  Samuel  Appleton,  Esq.,  of  Boston  ; 
and  two  replicas  of  the  “ Daphne  ” were  subsequently  ordered.  Gibson 
recognized  both  patience  and  progress  in  her  studies.  She  next  designed 
the  shepherd-wife  whom  Paris  deserted  for  Helen.  It  belongs  to  Mr. 
Crow,  of  St.  Louis.  In  1856' she  sent  a little  statue  of  “Puck”  to  Hon. 
Samuel  Hooper,  of  Boston,  three  copies  of  which  are  in  noble  collections 
in  England  ; it  is  one  of  the  most  pleasing,  and  characteristic  works  of  the 
artist.  In  1857  she  designed  a monument,  ereCted  in  one  of  the  churches, 
for  a beautiful  daughter  of  Madame  Falconet,  an  English  Catholic  lady 
resident  in  Rome,  and  the  same  year  she  made  a statue  of  “ Beatrice  Cenci 
Asleep  in  her  Cell,”  which  was  pronounced  her  best  work,  though  compared, 
as  regards  the  attitude,  with  a figure  well  known  in  Rome.  Returning 
home,  she  appeared  among  her  old  friends  self-possessed,  confident,  and 
vivacious,  in  a costume  and  with  hair  so  arranged  as  to  give  her  the  ap- 
pearance of  a boy  rather  than  a young  woman,  and  boasted  that  she  had 
not  worn  a bonnet  for  five  years.  Piquant,  if  not  prepossessing,  was  the 
advent  of  so  self-reliant,  independent,  and  lively  a female  sculptor.  On 
her  return  to  Rome  she  modelled  a “ Will-o’-the-Wisp,”  which  belonged 
to  the  late  Mrs.  George  Lee,  of  Boston  ; and  then  devoted  herself  to  the 
statue  of  “Zenobia,”  a colossal  work — architectural  in  style,  with  highly 
finished  drapery, — massive  and  dignified.  It  was  exhibited  in  the  United 
States.  The  Legislature  of  Missouri  has  given  Miss  Hosmer  a commis- 
sion to  execute  a statue  of  Thomas  LI.  Benton  ; and  in  the  Paris  Exposi- 
tion of  1867,  her  “Sleeping  Faun”  found  many  admirers. 

If  years  of  study  warrant  the  artist  career,  Miss.  Emma  Stebbins,  of  New 
York,  is  fully  justified  in  adopting  it.  She  long  worked  with  crayon  and 
palette  as  an  amateur, — making  likenesses  of  her  friends, 

Emma  Stebbins.  copying  fine  pictures  in  oil,  improving  every  opportunity 
to  cultivate  her  taste,  and  discipline  her  ability.  Like 
Miss  Llosmer,  she  went  to  Rome  and,  as  in  her  case,  found  a congenial 
spirit  and  devoted  friend  in  Charlotte  Cushman.  She  is  assiduous  and 
absorbed  in  the  study  and  exercise  of  plastic  art ; and  has  sent  home 
some  pleasing  specimens  of  her  skill  and  taste  in  expressive  statuettes;  a 
beautiful  figure  of  Joseph — represented  in  boyhood — rather  an  original 
idea,  is  one  of  her  favorite  conceptions.  She  is  now  at  work  on  a statue 


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603 


of  Horace  Mann  ; her  Columbus  has  won  praise  ; and,  judging  by  some 
excellent  photographs  of  her  models,  she  must  have  worked  with  remark- 
able industry,  and  under  the  most  improving  influences  during  the  few 
years  she  has  lived  at  Rome. 

A compliment,  deserved  from  the  earnest  self-devotion  with  which  she 
has  applied  herself  to  plastic  art,  has  recently  been  paid  to  Emma  Steb- 
bins  by  the  Commissioners  of  the  New  York  Central  Park — she  having 
been  commissioned  to  execute  a statuesque  adornment  for  a fountain  ; her 
design  is  full  of  promise  : she  has  adopted  for  her  subject  the  appropriate 
and  beautiful  idea  of  the  Angel  of  the  Waters,  hallowed  to  the  Christian’s 
imagination  by  the  miracle  beside  the  pool  of  Bethesda. 

Miss  Landor,  of  Salem,  Mass.,  has  modelled  several  busts,  at  Rome  and 
elsewhere  ; Mrs.  Ames,  wife  of  the  portrait-painter,  has  executed  a bust 
of  Lincoln,  from  memory,  which  many  familiar  with  his  expression  regard 
as  a most  successful  portrait. 

Miss  Foley,  of  whom  the  Green  Mountain  State  may  justly  be  proud, 
achieves  new  and  constant  success  in  her  relievos.  A critical  estimate  of 
this  lady  declares  that  her  head  of  the  somewhat  impracti- 
cable but  always  earnest  Senator  from  Massachusetts  is  Margaret  Foley, 
unsurpassable,  and  beyond  praise.  It  is  simple,  absolute 
truth  embodied  in  marble.  Not  truth  in  outline  and  feature  alone,  but  in 
expression  and  sentiment.  The  same  may  be  said  of  her  bass-relief  of 
Longfellow,  and  of  the  grand  head  of  Bryant,  Rev.  C.  T.  Brooks,  and 
of  several  ideal  heads.  This  lady,  too,  is  busy  with  a work  of  more 
pretension  than  any  she  has  yet  undertaken,  and  which,  if  successful, 
will  place  her  in  a firm  position  in  the  higher  ranks  of  the  art  to  which 
she  is  devoted. 

A young  woman,  of  mixed  negro  and  Indian  blood,  excited  much  inter- 
est during  the  Union  war,  by  exhibiting,  at  the  Soldiers’  Relief  Fair  in 
Boston,  a bust  of  Colonel  Shaw — the  “fair-haired  hero,” 
and  martyr  to  the  cause  of  her  race  ; it  seemed  like  an  Edmonia  Lewis, 
inspiration  of  grateful  homage,  that  so  authentic  a likeness 
and  pleasing  a work  should  have  emanated  from  the  unpractised  hands  of 
a dusky  maiden.  Since  then  she  has  modelled  “ The  Freedwoman,  on  First 
Hearing  of  her  Liberty  ” — of  which  it  has  been  said  that  “ it  tells  with  much 
eloquence  a painful  story.”  Of  the  curious  and  speculative  interest  excited 
by  this  novice  in  sculpture,  among  the  Roman  studios,  we  may  judge  by 
the  following  description  contained  in  a recent  letter  from  that  city  : — 

“ Edmonia  Lewis  is  a little  American  girl,  scarcely  twenty-two  years  of 
age,  born  in  Greenbush,  opposite  Albany,  on  the  Hudson,  of  Indian  and 
negro  parentage,  and  bearing  in  her  face  the  characteristic  types  of  her 
origin.  In  her  coarse  but  appropriate  attire,  with  her  black  hair  loose, 
and  grasping  in  her  tiny  hand  the  chisel  with  which  she  does  not  disdain — 
perhaps  with  which  she  is  obliged — to  work,  and  with  her  large,  black, 
sympathetic  eyes  brimful  of  simple,  unaffeCted  enthusiasm,  Miss  Lewis  is 
unquestionably  the  most  interesting  representative  of  our  country  in  Eu- 


604 


American  Artist  Life. 


rope.  Interesting  not  alone  because  she  belongs  to  a contemned  and 
hitherto  oppressed  race,  which  labors  under  the  imputation  of  artistic  in- 
capacity, but  because  she  has  already  distinguished  herself  in  sculpture — 
not  perhaps  in  its  highest  grade,  according  to  the  accepted  canons  of  the 
art,  but  in  its  naturalistic,  not  to  say  the  most  pleasing  form.  The  un- 
doubted criticism  to  be  made  on  most  American  sculptors  in  Europe  is 
that  they  gravitate  too  much  toward  what  is  called  the  “ classical  ” in  style, 
with  a constantly  increasing  tendency.  It  may  be  reserved  for  the  youth- 
ful Indian  girl  in  the  Via  della  Frezza,  which,  as  I have  intimated,  is  quite 
an  aside  and  by  no  means  aristocratic  street  in  Rome,  through  a success 
that  may  be  well  founded,  and  which  certainly  will  be  well  earned,  to  indi- 
cate to  her  countrymen,  working  in  the  same  field,  a distinctive,  if  not 
eutirely  original  style  in  sculpture,  which  may  ultimately  take  high  rank  as 
the  ‘American  School.’  Has  sculpture  no  new  domains  to  occupy,  no 
new  worlds  to  conquer  ? Have  Greece  and  Rome  exhausted  every  combi- 
nation of  form  and  lineament,*  so  that  nineteenth  century  life,  and  its  loftier 
achievements  and  grander  aspirations,  can  find  no  expression  ? 

“Miss  Lewis  is  by  no  means  a prodigy;  she  has  great  natural  genius, 
originality,  earnestness,  and  a simple,  genuine  taste.  Her  works  are  as 
yet  those  of  a girl.  She  has  read  Evangeline,  and  some  others  of  Long- 
fellow’s poems,  and  has  caught  from  them  a girlish  sentimentality,  but  has 
rather  improved  upon  her  author’s  conceptions  in  the  process  of  giving 
them  shape  and  reality.  By  and  by,  when  her  horizon  of  knowledge 
becomes  more  expanded,  and  her  grasp  on  it  firmer,  she  will  leave  the 
pretlinesses  of  poems,  and  give  us  Pocahontas,  Logan,  Pontiac,  Tecumseh, 
Red  Jacket,  and,  it  may  be,  Black  Hawk  and  Osceola.  Or  if  these  may 
seem  too  near  and  real,  and  admitting  less  of  effective  accessories,  there 
lie  behind  them  all  the  great  dramatic  characters,  Montezuma,  Guatimo- 
zin,  Huascar,  and  Atahualpa,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Malinche,  that  lost  her 
country  that  she  might  save  her  love.” 

Besides  Miss  Hosmer  and  Miss  Stebbins  there  is  now  in  Italy  another 
female  sculptor  whose  early  achievements  are  full  of  promise.  We  allude 
to  Mrs.  Freeman,  the  wife  of  the  well-known  American 

Mrs.  Freeman,  painter,  J.  E.  Freeman,  who  has  resided  for  many  years 
at  Rome.  Mr.  Rothermel,  the  Philadelphia  painter,  speak- 
ing of  a recent  specimen  of  Mrs.  Freeman’s  plastic  talent,  says  : “ I called, 
expeCting  to  see  a bust  of  measured  truth,  but  I was  truly  surprised 
at  seeing  such  delicacy  and  finished  modelling,  true  to  very  beautiful 
nature.” 

This  refers  to  a marble  portrait  of  a fair  New  Yorker.  But  an  elabo- 
rately-sculptured vase  from  the  same  hand  has  attracted  very  favorable 
notice  from  amateurs  abroad  ; it  is  carved  in  alto-relievo  representing 
groups  of  children  in  every  possible  stage  of  inebriation.  One  little  fellow 
with  his  foot  poised  in  the  air  seems  about  to  topple  over  altogether,  but 
for  the  kindly  encircling  arm  that  supports  him,  whilst  in  his  hand  he 
clutches  the  well-drained  cup  ; at  his  feet  one  catches  a glimpse  of  a pros- 


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605 


trate  companion  with  his  baby  face  buried  in  his  arms  enjoying  the  most 
perfect  repose.  One  is  playing  the  violin  with  great  vigor  to  some  rollick- 
ing dancers,  one  of  whom,  presenting  to  us  his  dimpled  back,  is  a mis- 
chievous urchin  that  forms  a striking  contrast  to  a dolorous  one  who  seems 
full  of  baby  woe,  and  is  evidently  being  urged  by  his  companion  “ to  make 
an  effort.”  There  is  a struggling  group,  in  which  a friend  more  kind  than 
steady , is  aiding  his  fallen  companion  to  rise.  One  little  figure  seems  of  a 
more  speculative  turn  of  mind,  quite  indifferent  to  all  around  him  ; a sleep- 
ing innocent  utterly  unconscious  that  there  is  a peeping  head  over  his 
shoulder,  bent  on  mischief ; the  seated  group,  one  of  whom  is  draining  his 
cup  to  the  dregs,  whilst  his  vis-a-vis  would  seem  to  have  already  done  so, 
judging  from  his  rueful  attitude.  The  three  recumbent  figures  at  the  base 
decidedly  “ under  the  table,”  are  in  the  soundest  of  slumber. 

She  has  also  modelled  with  naive  skill,  the  “ Culprit  Fay”  of  Drake’s 
fanciful  poem. 

A statue  of  “ Godiva,”  with  many  womanly  traits,  and  a more  vigorous 
conception  entitled  “Africa,”  have  lately  brought  another  female  sculptor — 
Miss  Anne  Whitney — into  favorable  notice  in  Boston  ; and 
there  are  several  other  names  that  might  be  added  to  this  Anne  Whitney, 
brief  catalogue  of  our  fair  workers  in  plastic  art,  but  some 
of  them  are  amateurs,  and  do  not  expeCt  to  become  professional  artists, 
while  others  are  as  yet  only  students  thereof.  A female  novice  in  the  art, 
Miss  Vinnie  Ream,  has  recently  embarked  for  Italy,  after  modelling  a 
statue  of  Lincoln,  at  the  Capitol,  ordered  by  a vote  of  Congress. 

Another  young  sculptor,  from  Ohio,  soon  followed  Powers  to  Italy.  Sho- 
bal  Vail  Clevenger  was  born  at  Middletown,  in  that  State,  in  1812,  and 
died  at  sea,  September  28,  1843.  When  quite  a youth  he 
followed  the  vocation  of  a stone-cutter,  in  Cincinnati  ; and  Clevenger, 
his  artistic  capacity  was  first  indicated  by  the  figure  of  an 
angel,  which  he  carved  upon  a tombstone.  Encouraged  by  the  commen- 
dation freely  bestowed  upon  this  work,  he  attempted  a bust  from  life,  and 
was  remarkably  successful ; his  marble  portraits  were  accurately  modelled, 
and  some  of  them  the  best  likenesses  extant  of  eminent  originals.  He 
soon  left  the  West,  and  found  ample  employment  in  Boston  and  New  York  ; 
his  busts  of  Webster,  Clay,  Everett,  Allston,  Van  Buren,  Chief-Justice 
Shaw,  and  other  leading  citizens,  are  well  known  ; and  some  of  them  have 
been  more  widely  circulated  and  popularly  esteemed  in  the  form  of  plaster 
casts,  than  any  other  works  of  the  kind  executed  among  us.  Perhaps 
Clevenger  is  best  known  by  his  bust  of  Webster;  it  is  the  most  literal 
representation  of  that  remarkable  head,  in  the  prime  of  his  aCtive  life  and 
civic  reputation — not  the  most  intellectual,  but  the  most  familiar  aspeCt  of 
the  man — mathematically  correCt  in  dimensions  and  feature,  wholly  un- 
idealized, and  therefore  universally  recognized  and  prized  by  personal 
acquaintances  of  the  statesman  ; in  the  hotels  he  frequented,  in  the  homes 
of  his  friends,  and  in  public  halls,  this  bust  is  constantly  seen.  The  one  by 
Powers  has  a higher  and  more  characteristic  mental  significance — a cer- 


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American  Artist  Life. 


tain  refinement  born  of  the  best  mood  of  mind  and  feeling;  it  is  the 
orator,  the  judicial,  intellectual,  patriotic,  American  civic  genius  ; a bust  of 
which  Thorwaldsen  declared  that  no  similar  work  excelled  it,  either  of 
ancient  or  modern  times.  Clevenger’s  bust  represents  the  man  as  he 
appeared  in  every-day  life,  and  to  the  eye  of  the  multitude  ; the  vast  fore- 
head, projecting  brows,  deeply-sunk  eyes,  the  strong  lines  around  the 
mouth — each  lineament  reproduced  with  authenticity — form  a head  alike 
unique  and  memorable.  It  slowly  emerged  from  the  plastic  hand  of  the 
artist,  who  conscientiously  followed  nature  in  his  work  ; and  when  finished, 
suggested  this  unexaggerated  verbal  description  : — 

There  is  a Roman  grandeur  in  that  brow, 

And  lofty  thoughts  within  it  seem  enshrined, 

As  calmly  it  expands  before  me  now, 

Nature’s  assurance  of  a noble  mind  ; 

A stern  serenity  broods  o’er  the  face, 

Most  eloquent  of  a determined  soul, 

Will  softened  by  the  lines  of  mental  grace, 

Yet  firm  of  purpose,  strong  in  self-control : 

How  glorious  the  art  that  can  subdue 
The  senseless  marble  to  such  forms  of  truth, 

And  mould  the  semblance  of  Earth’s  chosen  few 
To  an  enduring  shape  and  second  youth  ; 

Bequeath  his  features,  whose  emphatic  page 
Will  nerve  the  spirits  of  a future  age  ! 

Lovers  of  art,  in  our  northern  cities,  must  have  still  fresh  in  their  mem- 
ories the  person  of  the  young  western  sculptor,  Clevenger.  His  career 
is  one  of  those  episodes  in  the  thrifty  and  monotonous  tenor  of  American 
life,  which  need  only  the  enchantment  of  distance  to  make  them  romantic. 
The  cheek  of  an  imaginative  European  kindles  at  the  idea  of  a nativity 
beside  the  Ohio,  as  quickly  as  ours  at  the  thought  of  first  breathing  the 
air  beneath  Athenian  skies,  or  amid  the  hills  of  Rome.  Novelty  is  an  ele- 
ment of  the  sublime,  and  the  absolute  freshness  of  a scene  captivates  the 
fancy  as  certainly  as  the  most  memorable  associations.  There  can  be  no  more 
striking  contrast  than  that  between  the  primitive  beauty  of  our  new  States 
and  the  olden,  classic  glories  of  Italy.  Nor  may  we  readily  find  in  the 
records  of  adventure  a change  of  life  more  truly  dramatic  than  that  which 
transforms  a humble  stone-cutter  of  Cincinnati  to  the  accomplished  sculptor 
of  Florence.  Human  existence  abounds  in  the  poetic,  notwithstanding  all 
the  cant  about  the  utilitarian  spirit  of  the  age.  The  world  will  never  be 
quite  prosaic  until  love,  genius,  and  death  have  abandoned  it  for  ever. 
While  these  mystic  agencies  mingle  in  its  strife,  the  heart  can  never  en- 
tirely wither,  or  the  fancy  sleep.  Voices  of  sweet  pathos  and  godlike  ear- 
nestness will,  ever  and  anon,  rise  above  the  dull  clamor  of  toil  ; and  events, 
too  solemn  or  beautiful  for  careless  recognition,  will  stir  the  listless  tide  of 
routine.  I was  led  into  this  strain  of  musing  by  the  announcement 
in  the  papers,  of  the  death  of  Clevenger.  It  seemed  but  yesterday  that  I 
bade  him  adieu  at  the  pier,  and  watched  the  lessening  sail  that  wafted  him 
to  Italy.  He  embarked  full  of  the  highest  and  the  purest  hopes  ; and  as  I 


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607 


retraced  my  steps  through  the  noisy  mart,  where  nothing  is  heard  but 
trade’s  unceasing  din,  a feeling  of  elation  arose  in  my  mind  at  the  thought 
of  him  I had  thus  sped  on  his  way.  He  was  one  of  the  few  who,  regard- 
less of  temporary  and  selfish  ends,  yield  boldly  to  the  destiny  for  which 
they  were  created.  To  develop  the  instinctive  powers  of  his  character 
seemed  to  him  the  true  end  of  life.  He  desired  nothing  more  fondly  than 
to  give  shape  to  his  peculiar  endowment  This  was  the  art  of  statuary. 
It  was  obviously  his  vocation.  A physiognomist  would  have  deteded 
at  a glance  no  little  aptitude  to  deal  with  form  in  the  marked  size  of  that 
organ.  An  uncommon  space  between  the  eyes  indicated  that  in  this  sphere 
his  faculty  specially  lay.  A compaCt  and  manly  figure,  with  a certain  vigor 
of  outline,  promised  more  continuity  of  aCtion  than  is  often  realized  by 
artists.  He  was  no  idle  enthusiast  in  sculpture,  but  an  industrious  and 
patient  devotee.  He  did  not  work  spasmodically.  There  was  method  in 
his  pursuit.  Day  by  day,  with  quiet  attention,  he  plied  the  instruments  of 
his  art,  and  found  an  enjoyment  the  voluptuary  might  envy  as  the  model 
gradually  assumed  the  traits  of  nature.  There  was  an  exactitude  in  his 
busts  that  gave  assurance  of  skill  founded  upon  solid  principles.  The 
majority  of  our  young  artists  essay  the  ideal  before  they  have  any  just  ap- 
preciation of  reality  ; and  with  the  presumption,  not  of  genius  but  of 
audacity,  illustrate  imaginary  beings  while  incompetent  to  exhibit  faithfully 
the  tree  that  overshades  their  window,  or  the  friend  who  praises  their 
talent.  Clevenger  began  in  art  where  all  noble  characters  begin  in  aCtion 
— at  truth.  He  carefully  studied  the  minute  peculiarities  of  the  living  sub- 
ject, and  transferred  them  with  admirable  precision  to  clay  and  marble. 
He  did  not  commit  the  Yankee  absurdity  of  working  against  time.  The 
gradual  and  exaCt  process  was  more  native  to  him  than  the  rapid  and 
hazardous.  There  was  a reCtitude  in  his  habits  of  labor.  They  did  justice 
to  the  subjeCt  and  the  occasion.  He  felt  that  the  time  would  arrive  when  his 
confident  touch  and  correCt  eye  would  fit  him  to  grapple  successfully  with 
ideal  conceptions  ; but  in  his  early  efforts,  good-sense  and  modesty  taught 
him  contentedly  to  portray  the  aCtual,  and  to  feel  that  therein  was  no  com- 
mon scope  given  to  the  man  who  could  adequately  see  and  feel  the  infinite 
resources  of  nature.  The  consequence  of  these  judicious  views  was  that 
Clevenger  made  continual  progress  in  his  art.  The  eight  busts  in  marble 
which  he  sent  home,  evince  extraordinary  improvement  ; and  the  very  last 
work  of  his  chisel  excited  more  admiration  than  any  previous  effort. 

The  want  of  general  education  was  in  a measure  supplied  to  Clevenger 
by  the  refined  associations  induced  by  his  profession.  Some  of  the  most 
gifted  men  and  women  of  the  country  were  the  subjects  of  his  art.  It  is 
worthy  of  notice,  as  illustrating  the  attractiveness  of  simple  excellence  of 
character,  that  in  nearly  every  case  his  sitters  became  warm  personal 
friends,  and  manifested  a deep  interest  in  his  welfare  and  success.  There 
is  a charm  in  truth  that  wins  more  permanently  than  brilliancy  or  taCt. 
This  genuine  son  of  the  West  possessed  a sincere  directness  and  unaffeCted 
tone  of  mind  that  widely  endeared  him.  Edward  Everett  took  evident 


6o3 


American  Artist  Life. 


pleasure  in  unfolding  his  mental  treasury  of  taste  and  wisdom  to  the  young 
sculptor,  and  was  one  of  his  most  steady  and  efficient  friends.  Allston 
yielded  to  his  eloquent  impulses,  while  the  hand  of  his  new  brother  in  the 
holy  fellowship  of  art  moulded  those  benign  and  memorable  feature?.  It 
was  interesting  to  watch  the  seeds  of  this  high  intercourse  germinate  in 
the  virgin  soil  of  an  unsophisticated  mind.  Clevenger,  with  the  instinCt  of 
honest  admiration,  rejoiced  in  the  new  world  of  thought  and  humanity  to 
which  his  talents  had  introduced  him.  It  was  his  privilege,  day  by  day 
for  three  years,  to  commune  freely  in  his  studio  with  men  of  varied  culture 
and  experience.  The  effeCt  was  visible  in  the  high  standard  which  at  last 
became  the  goal  of  his  desires.  The  free,  social  habits  of  his  native  region 
prevented  any  blind  reverence  or  timid  reserve  from  nipping  these  advan- 
tages in  the  bud.  He  frankly  exposed  his  need  of  information,  and,  in  the 
spirit  of  genuine  improvement,  gratefully  availed  himself  of  the  conversa- 
tion and  suggestions  of  those  he  respeCted.  This  unpretending  and 
assiduous  bearing  made  him  emphatically  a favorite.  He  indulged  no  weak 
repining  at  the  small  encouragement  which  pursuits  like  his  usually  re- 
ceived. He  felt  that  only  by  self-denial  and  perseverance  could  the  garland 
of  fame  be  won.  He  loved  his  art  for  its  own  sake,  and  looked  on  all  its 
votaries  with  cordial  appreciation.  Those  who  knew  him  best  will  remem- 
ber with  what  delicacy  and  consideration  he  spoke  of  all  engaged  in  similar 
objedls.  Not  with  envy  did  he  regard  the  triumph  of  others,  but  rather  with 
the  partial  judgment  of  a kindred  taste.  There  was  none  of  the  sickly 
egotism  and  absurd  jealousy  about  him  which  are  apt  to  mar  the  nobleness 
of  ordinary  ambition.  Clevenger  was  generous  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
term.  He  would  not  listen  to  a word  that  disparaged  merit.  He  cherished 
true  sympathy  with  all  who  professed  to  love  what  was  so  intrinsically  dear 
to  himself ; and  conscious  of  many  deficiencies,  kept  always  in  view  the 
slow  gradations  by  which  lasting  excellence  is  achieved.  Ardent  hopes 
and  the  kindest  remembrance  followed  him  to  Italy.  All  who  had  visited 
that  ‘pleasant  country’s  earth,’  augured  well  of  one  whose  fine  gifts  and 
principles  were  quickened  by  youthful  enthusiasm.  The  American  virtue 
of  sustained  and  earnest  activity  was  his.  Early  habits  of  toil  gave  prom- 
ise of  vigorous  manhood.  The  presence  of  a young  and  affectionate  family 
was  a pledge  and  a motive  for  industry  ; and  the  aspirations  of  an  honest 
soul  seemed  prophetic  of  fidelity  amid  the  novel  seduCtions  of  a warmer 
clime.  Florence  was  chosen  by  Clevenger  as  a residence  for  its  compara- 
tive cheapness  of  living,  the  facilities  it  afforded  in  the  prosecution  of  his 
art,  and  the  attraction  of  his  countrymen’s  society,  several  of  whom  are 
established  there  as  sculptors  and  painters. 

When  disease  unnerved  the  arm  of  the  sculptor,  and  his  eye  grew  dim 
at  the  sad  prospeCt  around  him,  it  was  over  the  beloved  shores  of  his  dis- 
tant country  that  his  dreams  of  hope  hovered.  Gratefully  came  back, 
upon  the  aching  heart  of  the  exile,  the  thought  of  that  encouragement 
which  sent  him  an  ardent  pilgrim  to  the  banks  of  the  Arno  ; and  we  can- 
not wonder  that  at  length  he  resolved,  with  the  delusive  expectancy  pecu- 


Sculptors. 


609 


liar  to  the  disease  that  was  consuming  him,  to  revisit  the  land  of  his  birth. 
Let  us  draw  a veil  over  that  dreary  night  at  sea — the  moaning  of  the  bil- 
lows— the  narrow  and  stifled  cabin — the  patient  sufferer  whose  dying  head 
was  yet  pillowed  on  the  bosom  of  affedtion  ! Brief  as  was  the  life  of  Clev- 
enger, it  was  for  the  most  part  happy,  and  altogether  honorable.  He  has 
left  to  his  brother  artists  an  important  example,  and  no  common  legacy  of 
affedtion ; and  to  his  country  another  name  sacred  to  the  cause  of  elevated 
and  progressive  taste.* 

There  died  at  Naples,  but  a few  years  since,  another  promising  and  pa- 
tient votary  of  this  noble  art,  who  had  adopted  it  as  a pursuit  under  great 
discouragements,  struggled  manfully  with  obstacles,  and 
after  achieving  an  auspicious  rank  and  giving  the  highest  Bartholomew, 
promise,  fell  a vidtim  to  insidious  disease,  leaving  an  en- 
deared and  honored  name  among  his  brother  artists  in  Rome  and  his  coun- 
trymen in  the  United  States. 

Edward  Sheffield  Bartholomew  was  a^native  of  Colchester,  Connedlicut, 
where  he  was  born  in  1822.  Apprenticed,  while  yet  a lad,  to  a bookbinder 
in  Hartford,  he  afterward  pradtised  dentistry  four  years  in  that  city, 
abandoning  his  business  in  disgust.  While  at  school  he  had  found  amuse- 
ment in  drawing  with  chalk,  and  in  later  years  indulged  a propensity  to 
“ look  at  pidtures  ” whenever  and  wherever  he  could  find  them.  In  the 
pradtical  community  where  he  lived  his  negledt  of  a lucrative  though  dis- 
tasteful occupation  was  not  approved,  and  his  desultory  and  apparently 
wayward  habits  were  not  adapted  to  win  him  confidence  among  a prover- 
bially thrifty  and  methodical  people. 

About  this  period  the  Life  of  Benvenuto  Cellini  fell  into  Bartholomew’s 
hands.  To  most  of  us  this  egotistical  but  most  interesting  autobiography 
is  memorable  as  a vivid  picture  of  the  life  of  the  Middle  Ages  ; but  to  the 
young  Connedlicut  enthusiast,  baffled,  aspiring,  discouraged,  and  isolated, 
it  was  an  inspiration — proving  what  courage  and  self-reliance  can  accom- 
plish, and  that  too  in  the  identical  career  most  attractive  to  Bartholomew. 
To  use  his  own  expression,  Cellini’s  life  “ put  the  devil  into  him.” 
He  gave  up  regular  employment,  went  about  “ looking  at  pidtures,”  and 
indulged  in  a melancholy  humor,  so  that  his  friends  grew  cold,  regarding 
him  as  a perverse  visionary.  A clever  crayon  sketch  which  he  made,  and 
a year  of  patient  study  at  the  Life  School  of  the  Academy  in  New  York, 
gave  the  “judicious  few  ” a better  insight  into  his  aims  and  abilities.  At 
this  period  Bartholomew’s  chief  solace  was  the  companionship  of  Church. 
They  discussed  art  with  enthusiasm,  read,  studied,  and  dreamed  of  its 
divine  possibilities,  and  mutually  encouraged  each  other  in  self-dedication 
to  its  pursuit.  O11  many  a summer  evening  in  Hartford  these  two  might 
be  seen  sitting  on  the  steps  of  a public  edifice  in  the  lonely  twilight,  dis- 
cussing their  favorite  subjedt : handsome,  intelligent,  intrepid,  and  genial, 
Bartholomew — unsustained  and  isolated  as  he  then  was,  in  regard  to  art — 


* From  the  Author’s  Italian  Sketch-Book. 

39 


6 io 


American  Artist  Life. 


with  so  much  to  learn  and  so  little  to  confirm  his  purpose — was  yet 
inspired  by  the  self-reliance  and  determination  characteristic  of  his  country, 
and  natural  to  his  youth.  He  received  the  appointment  of  Curator  of  the 
Wadsworth  Gallery  at  Hartford — as  congenial  a position  for  an  art-student 
as  can  be  imagined.  Then,  and  there  Bartholomew  eagerly  improved  the 
leisure  and  facilities  thus  afforded  him.  He  made  careful  copies  of  the 
figures  on  Etruscan  vases,  and  of  the  engravings  from  Raphael’s  Cartoons, 
originally  presented  by  the  first  Napoleon  to  the  New  York  Academy  of 
Fine  Arts,  but  then  deposited  in  the  Wadsworth  collection.  This  practice 
was  of  great  service  in  disciplining  the  eye  and  hand  of  the  draughtsman, 
but  when  he  attempted  to  work  in  oil  he  made  the  painful  discovery  that  he 
was  color-blind,  a circumstance  to  which  Paul  Akers  thus  alludes  long 
after  : tl  The  late  sculptor  Bartholomew  declared  himself  unable  to  decide 
which  of  two  pieces  of  drapery,  the  one  crimson  and  the  other  green,  was 
the  crimson.  Nor  was  this  the  result  of  inexperience.  He  had  been  for 
years  familiar  not  only  with  Nature’s  coloring,  but  with  the  works  of  the  best 
schools  of  art,  and  had  been  in  continual  contaCt  with  the  first  living  artists.” 

He  now  determined  to  try  his  skill  in  plastic,  as  he  was  inadequate  to 
piCtorial  art.  He  made  a medallion  head  of  a lady,  and  going  to  a marble- 
yard,  asked  the  proprietor  for  a small  block.  Upon  examining  his  work, 
the  latter  counselled  him  to  repeat  his  experiment  with  finer  tools  and 
superior  material.  Patiently  and  earnestly  he  went  to  work,  and  the  result 
was  his  bust  of  “ Flora,”  from  the  execution  of  which  fairly  dates  his 
artistic  career. 

Ere  long,  through  his  own  industry  and  the  aid  of  friends,  Bartholomew 
was  enabled  to  visit  Italy  ; but  his  ordeal  was  not  yet  over.  Just  as  all 
looked  propitious,  and  for  the  first  time  he  saw  his  way  clear  to  the  reali- 
zation of  his  life-dream,  he  was  attacked  by  that  terrible  disease,  the  small- 
pox, caughtfrom  the  clothes  brought  to  his  room  in  the  New  York  University 
by  his  laundress,  whose  daughter  had  fallen  a viCtim  thereto  ; he  only  re- 
covered to  find  himself  lame  for  life,  and  with  an  originally  vigorous 
constitution  essentially  impaired.  Many  precious  months  were  devoted  to 
experiments  and  treatment  for  his  recovery,  and  pecuniary  embarrassments 
were  added  to  his  troubles.  Unfortunately,  too,  the  vessel  in  which  he 
embarked,  when  convalescent,  was  an  Italian  craft,  ill-provided  with  the 
food  and  conveniences  desirable  for  an  invalid.  The  voyage  was  prolonged 
and  tempestuous  ; exposure  and  privation  aggravated  the  worst  symptoms 
of  the  artist.  At  his  own  request  he  was  landed  on  the  coast  of  France, 
at  Hyannis,  and  made  his  way  thence  to  Marseilles  and  Rome.  It  is 
related  as  indicative  of  his  remarkable  energy,  that  within  three  days  after 
his  arrival  at  the  latter  city  he  was  absorbed  in  modelling  the  “ Blind 
Homer  led  by  his  Daughter.” 

Despite  occasional  attacks  of  illness,  the  artist-life  of  Bartholomew  was 
thenceforth  genial  and  productive.  He  returned  to  the  United  States  to 
superintend  the  ereCtion  of  a monument  to  Charles  Carroll ; returned  to 
Italy  and  resumed  his  labors  with  unabated  zeal.  What  he  accomplished 


Sculptors. 


6 1 1 

may  be  partly  realized  by  the  mention  of  his  principal  works,  many  of 
which  are  familiar  to  American  visitors  at  Rome  and  those  who  have  seen 
the  collection  at  Hartford  : “ Calypso  ; ” “ Sappho  ; ” “ Eve  ; ” “ Campagna 
Shepherd  Boy;”  “ Infant  Pan  and  Wizards;”  “ Genius  of  Painting;” 
“ Genius  of  Music  ; ” “ Belisarius  at  the  Porta  Pincio  ; ” “ Hagar  and  Ish- 
mael ; ” “ Ruth,”  “ Naomi,”  and  “ Or  ; ” “ Youth  and  Old  Age  ; ” “ Gany- 
mede and  the  Infant  Jupiter,”  engraved  from  the  London  Art  Journal ; bust  of 
“ Genevieve  ; ” “ The  Evening  Star  ; ” “ Homer.”  Some  of  these  are  figures, 
some  busts,  and  others  bass-reliefs,  and  to  the  list  may  be  added  several 
monumental  works,  including  that  for  Charles  Carroll.  Bartholomew’s  full- 
length  statue  of  Washington  belongs  to  Noah  Walker,  Esq.  ; and  his 
“ Eve  Repentant,”  his  great  work,  to  Joseph  Harrison,  Esq.,  of  Philadel- 
phia, Pa.  ; his  “ Shepherd  Boy,”  to  E.  Pratt,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia ; and  a 
copy  to  Gov.  Aiken,  of  South  Carolina. 

During  his  residence  at  Rome  Bartholomew  remembered  affectionately 
his  friends  at  home  ; to  Church  he  frequently  wrote.  “ I am  now  entirely 
occupied,”  he  remarks  in  a letter  of  March,  1855,  “with  my  statue,  but  I 
do  not  accomplish  much,  as  my  studio  is  almost  constantly  crowded  with 
visitors  ; everywhere  I go  I hear  of  the  ‘ Eve  ; ’ it  impresses  every  one 
with  its  originality,  and  so  far  has  been  well  received  by  all  the  foreign 
artists.”  He  notes  his  progress,  work,  and  plans,  and  in  the  summer  goes 
into  the  mountains.  In  another  letter  he  observes  : “ There  is  so  much 
traffic  here  in  art  that  unless  an  artist  is  on  his  guard  and  not  easily  influ- 
enced by  things  around  him,  he  will  cease  to  strive  after  excellence,  and 
only  see  the  immediate  advantages  derived  from  producing  works  which  will 
gratify  the  prevailing  taste,  and  thereby  lose  sight  of  what  would  secure  him 
a brilliant  future.  Under  date  of  108  Via  Margalla,  Rome,  March  11,  1856, 
he  says  : “ I am  full  of  orders  and  work  of  all  kinds,  and  am  making  any 
number  of  portrait-busts.  I go  to  Venice  in  July.” 

On  a second  visit  home,  after  having  thus  achieved  a name  and  fame  in 
art,  and  given  promise  of  still  greater  triumphs,  Bartholomewr  received,  in 
connection  with  his  old  friend,  the  eminent  American  landscape  artist, 
Church,  a native  of  Hartford,  and  the  companion  of  his  youthful  aspira- 
tions, the  compliment  of  a public  dinner  from  the  citizens  of  that  place, 
at  which  a most  genial  feeling  prevailed,  and  several  admirable  speeches 
on  the  prospeCts  and  claims  of  native  art  were  delivered  by  gentlemen  of 
the  highest  culture.  The  occasion  was  rare  and  memorable,  and  left  the 
most  delightful  associations  in  the  heart  of  Bartholomew,  who,  thus  recog- 
nized and  cheered  in  the  very  scene  of  his  early  discomfiture,  returned 
once  more  to  Italy,  prepared  to  engage  with  fresh  zeal  and  higher  aspira- 
tions in  the  artist-labors  he  so  loved.  But  he  returned  only  to  die.  Ere 
many  months  fatal  symptoms,  the  result  of  previous  illness  and  subsequent 
trials,  began  to  appear.  Visiting  one  spring  day  the  beautiful  English 
cemetery  at  Rome,  he  said  to  his  companion  : “ One  of  these  grassy 
mounds  will  soon  be  raised  over  me.”  He  was  induced  to  try  change  of 
air,  and  went  to  Naples,  where  he  died  on  the  2d  of  May,  1858. 


6 12 


American  Artist  Life . 


Bartholomew  was  a manly  enthusiast.  His  early  life  was  a struggle  with 
narrow  means  and  uncongenial  associations  ; when  he  found  his  vocation, 
all  the  earnestness  of  his  nature  concentrated  thereon.  With  patient  self- 
devotion,  a generous  interest  in  and  appreciation  of  others,  and  a versatile 
and  constantly  enlarging  scope  and  impulse,  he  possessed  all  the  elements 
of  success  and  enjoyment  as  an  artist.  Though  most  of  his  subjects  were 
classical,  many  Scriptural  illustrations  occupied  his  mind,  and  his  inventive 
were  fast  developing  with  his  executive  faculties.  Personally  beloved  and 
professionally  gaining  reputation  and  work,  the  early  death  of  Bartholomew 
was  deeply  mourned  at  Rome  and  in  Hartford,  where  warm  friends  cher- 
ished a fond  and  proud  interest  in  his  welfare  and  his  fame.  Of  the  pecu- 
liar claims  of  his  genius,  perhaps  the  most  individual  merit  has  been  justly 
indicated  by  the  remark  of  one  who  knew  him  well,  and  recognized  in  his 
works  and  prevalent  talent,  “ an  intuitive  perception  of  the  strongest  and 
most  statuesque  aspeCt  of  a theme.” 

The  prophetic  requiem  which  Mozart  composed  for  his  own  funeral  finds 
analogies  in  the  universal  life  of  genius.  In  the  subjeCt  or  the  sentiment 
of  every  characteristic  work  of  poet  and  artist,  we  dis- 
Akers.  cern  self-portraiture,  either  as  regards  character  or  des- 
tiny— sometimes  of  both.  Unconsciously  the  mood  in- 
feCts  the  picture,  the  tone  of  mind  the  written  composition  ; and  therein, 
when  sympathy  gives  the  key,  we  find  an  individuality,  a coincidence, 
which  seems  to  foreshadow  the  experience,  embody  the  lot,  or  hint  the 
epitaph.  Accidentally  encountering  the  best  statue  of  Akers,  its  memory 
became  in  our  thought  associated  with  the  artist’s  early  death  in  the  midst 
of  his  success.  Had  he  expressly  sought  a conception  thus  to  perpetuate 
in  marble  the  aspiration,  the  struggle,  and  the  end  of  his  artist-life,  we  can 
scarcely  imagine  one  better  fitted  to  illustrate  them.  A youthful  nude 
figure,  with  a net  suspended  around  its  loins,  in  which  a few  shells  indicate 
the  vocation,  the  muscles  unstrung  from  exhaustion,  seated  on  a sandy 
knoll,  the  arms  thrown  over  the  head,  the  posture  natural  and  graceful  in 
its  unconscious  abandonment — instantly  suggests  to  the  mind  a pearl-diver 
who,  having  bravely  plunged  beneath  the  waves  and  seized  the  treasures  of 
the  deep,  has  emerged  only  to  die.  Thus  the  young  sculptor,  in  the  fresh- 
ness and  fervor  of  his  days,  with  heroic  self-reliance,  cast  himself  into  the 
embrace  of  art,  wrought  long  and  patiently,  won  the  pearl  of  beauty,  and 
then  fell  back  and  “ by  the  wayside  perished;”  but  with  tranquil  grace 
and  baffled  but  unsubdued  soul.  Both  the  physical  traits  and  the  subtle 
meaning  of  this  experience  grow  upon  the  heart  of  the  spectator  as  he 
gazes  ; and  thenceforth  there  is  present  to  his  imagination  an  eloquent 
and  authentic  symbol  of  all  the  artist  achieved,  endured,  and  was.  There 
is  a pine-tree  on  the  banks  of  the  Saco  which  he  loved  in  his  youth,  and 
beneath  which  he  is  buried  ; another  little  mound  marks  the  grave  of  his 
child.  Benjamin  Akers  was  born  at  Saccarappa,  in  the  State  of  Maine, 
on  the  ioth  of  July,  1825.  His  early  environment  offers  a strange  con- 
trast to  his  career  and  his  fame.  Before  we  note  the  labors  of  the  studio 


Sculptors. 


613 


and  point  out  the  trophies  of  his  art,  let  us  realize  the  associations  of  his 
birthplace — the  scenes  and  influences,  so  remote  from  all  artistic  agencies, 
wherein  he  was  reared.  His  father  owned  and  worked  a saw-mill  in  a vil- 
lage on  the  banks  of  his  native  river ; and  there  he,  too,  mused  and  toiled, 
aspired,  loved,  and  lived,  until  art  claimed  her  votary. 

In  some  of  its  aspects  and  many  of  its  results,  no  economical  pursuit  on 
the  eastern  coast  of  the  Atlantic  has  been  more  picturesque  and  prosper- 
ous than  the  lumber  business.  The  hardy  sons  of  Maine,  whether  cutting 
down  the  forest  trees,  floating  them  down  the  Kennebec  and  Saco  rivers 
in  the  form  of  immense  rafts,  their  toil  brightened  during  the  long  winter 
nights  and  amid  the  bleak  spring  freshets  by  huge  blazing  fires  of  pine  ; 
or  shaping  the  logs  into  staunch  ribs  or  long  slabs  for  ship-building,  at  the 
isolated  saw-mills,  and  then  loading  therewith  the  coasting-vessels  whereby 
the  material  so  essential  to  artisan  and  architect  is  distributed  to  populous 
marts — have  realized,  like  the  whale  and  cod  fishermen,  not  a little  of  the 
permanent  and  progressive  prosperity  which,  through  such  stern  pioneer 
enterprises,  has  built  up  the  wealth  and  expanded  the  civilization  of  a 
region  where  the  severity  of  a northern  climate  and  the  sterility  of  a north- 
ern soil  originally  held  out  so  few  attractions  to  adventurous  industry.  In 
the  retrospect  of  such  a remote  and  thrifty  experience  we  find  the  sources 
of  many  of  those  republican  virtues  through  which  the  latent  forces  of 
character  are  nurtured,  and  physical  strength  and  beauty,  as  well  as  mental 
aptitude  and  vigor,  richly  developed  ; and  trace  thereto  the  elemental  dis- 
cipline and  self-reliance  which  have  nerved  and  purified  into  more  intellec- 
tual fruit  the  lives  and  endowments  of  a patriotic  and  persevering  race. 

Although  we  can  discover  no  incentive  to  artistic  taste  or  activity  in  the 
early  associations  of  Akers,  the  free  and  familiar  contaCt  with  nature,  the 
wholesome  discipline  of  honest  and  humble  toil  and  strong  domestic  affec- 
tions, in  his,  as  in  so  many  other  instances,  combined  genially  to  conserve 
his  best  instinCts  and  foster  his  native  candor  and  generous  sympathies. 
Two  opposite  tendencies  are  frequently  exhibited  in  the  childhood  of 
artists  and  poets — the  love  of  adventure,  and  intense  local  and  personal  at- 
tachments— the  first  indications  of  brave  aspiration  on  the  one  hand,  and 
tender  loyalty  on  the  other ; and  both  essential  qualities  in  those  destined 
by  nature  to  create  the  beautiful,  and  illustrate  the  true  in  life  and  art. 

Among  the  few  anecdotes  remembered  of  Akers  as  a boy,  one  relates 
to  his  incurable  nostalgia  when  sent  to  a kinsman  in  Connecticut,  in  order 
to  attend  a school  superior  to  any  afforded  by  his  native  district  ; and 
another  records  a bold  juvenile  escapade,  the  object  of  which  was  to  “see 
the  world.”  His  delight  in  new  scenes  was  exuberant,  and  his  love  of 
home  controlling.  His  father  recalled,  for  years,  the  zest  with  which  the 
ardent  boy  followed  him  through  the  streets  of  Boston,  during  a storm, 
gazing,  unconscious  of  or  indifferent  to  the  driving  rain,  upon  the  novel 
buildings,  objeCts  in  the  shop-windows,  and  signs  of  the  tradesmen. 
The  sight  of  Chantrey’s  statue  of  Washington,  in  the  State  House,  first 
suggested  to  him  the  idea  of  his  art.  Of  delicate  organization,  he  was,  from 


6 14 


American  Artist  Life. 


his  earliest  years,  a hardy  pedestrian  and  a fond  observer  of  nature.  His 
brief  school  education  was  followed  by  several  years  of  contented 
home-life  and  regular  employment  in  his  father’s  saw-mill.  Mechanical 
skill  and  taste  were  early  developed  ; he  found  congenial  occupation  over 
a turning-lathe,  executing  beautiful  toys,  original  designs,  and  the  more 
fine  and  inventive  branches  of  wood-work.  Many  choice  specimens  of  his 
handiwork  are  still  affectionately  preserved  in  the  dwellings  of  rustic 
neighbors,  as  trophies  of  the  boyhood  of  the  future  artist.  He  invented 
at  this  period  a shingle-machine,  quite  novel,  and  still  in  use. 

While  thus  improving  in  mechanical  aptitude,  and  the  objeCt  of  warm 
affeCtion,  surrounded  by  Nature,  who  never  vainly  appealed  to  his  innate 
love  of  beauty,  isolated  from  the  great  world,  unfamiliar  with  the  triumphs 
of  art,  and  occupied  with  humble  labors,  the  need  of  higher  and  more 
graceful  expression  became  vivid  and  conscious  within  him.  Had  his  birth- 
place been  an  Italian  village,  Art  would  naturally  have  been  espoused  from 
the  suggestion  there  afforded  by  mediaeval  church  architecture,  the  pic- 
ture of  a local  saint,  or  the  statue  of  some  ancient  ruler;  but  in  New 
England,  away  from  her  cities,  at  that  period  the  youthful  mind  over- 
flowed in  the  direction  of  literature,  because  the  free-school,  the  popular 
leCture,  the  weekly  sermon,  and  the  familiar  journal  or  review  afforded  ex- 
clusive mental  stimuli  and  scope.  Accordingly,  Akers,  like  Franklin,  sought 
to  bring  his  mechanical  skill  into  aCtion,  with  a view  to  enlarge  his  intellec- 
tual opportunities,  and  went  to  Portland,  to  become  a printer  ; but  again 
drawn  homeward  by  the  invincible  strength  of  his  domestic  affinities,  he 
returned  and  gave  vent  to  his  teeming  fancies  by  writing.  A manuscript 
volume,  here  and  there  filled  with  descriptive  sketches,  essays,  and  verses, 
attests  the  vivacious  fecundity  of  his  mind.  Long  after,  when  he  had 
achieved  fame  as  an  artist,  his  tendency  to  literary  work  was  again  in- 
dulged ; and  the  fruits  of  his  pen,  especially  as  an  art-critic,  indicate  ma- 
ture reflection  and  expressive  beauty  of  diCtion.  His  early  attempts,  how- 
ever, fell  too  far  short  of  his  ideal  to  justify  the  experiment  of  making 
literature  a pursuit ; although  they  were  remarkable,  considered  as  the 
spontaneous  work  of  a country  school-boy.  He  had  for  some  time  been 
interested  in  drawing  ; and,  after  trying  mechanical  invention,  fancy 
wood-work,  printing,  and  pen-craft,  he  thought  he  must  be  a painter.  Di- 
verse as  these  initiatory  experiments  may  appear,  they  were  inspired  by 
an  identical  sentiment — a love  of  beauty  and  a passion  to  embody  and  ex- 
press it — first  in  forms  of  mechanical  grace  and  ingenuity,  and  then  in 
language.  A single  specimen  of  his  ability  as  a painter,  executed  at  this 
time,  is  pronounced  by  one  who  examined  it  with  affectionate  interest,  as 
effective,  though  crude,  and  exhibiting  much  feeling.  But  herein  also 
Akers  felt  that  he  had  missed  his  true  vocation  ; and  to  the  subsequent 
sight  of  a plaster-cast  he  was  accustomed  to  refer  its  authentic  revelation 
to  his  consciousness. 

Not  without  hints  thereof,  however,  did  his  boyhood  pass.  An  incident 
recalled  by  his  sister  now  has  a prophetic  significance.  The  winter  of 


Sculptors. 


615 


1835  memorable  as  “the  winter  of  the  red  night,”  a phenomenon  that 
little  Paul,  with  the  other  children,  was  roused  from  sleep  to  witness. 
The  speCtacle  awed  him  to  silence.  A vast  quantity  of  snow  fell,  from 
which  he  excavated  a spacious  chamber,  made  niches  in  the  walls,  and 
placed  the  children  ereCt  therein,  charging  them  to  keep  motionless,  in 
order  to  represent  statues,  although  he  had  never  seen  one,  except  in 
piCture-books. 

The  manner  and  method  whereby  genius  assimilates  to  itself  whatever 
nourishment  of  knowledge  is  attainable,  is  one  of  its  marvellous  charadter- 
istics.  This  boy,  born  and  reared  in  an  isolated  scene  of  primitive  toil, 
had  access  to  newspapers,  magazines,  and  a few  books  ; and  therefrom 
imbibed  a love  of  natural  history,  under  the  inspiration  of  which  he  became 
a colledtor  of  stones  and  an  observer  of  thunder-storms  ; he  sought  the 
aged  for  instrudlion  ; he  watched  the  clouds  and  the  trees  ; he  learned  to 
revere  truth  ; he  found  solace  and  support  in  filial  and  fraternal  love  ; and 
he  worked  assiduously  with  the  implements  and  materials  accessible  to 
him.  Herein  to  a discerning  eye  may  be  recognized  all  that  is  essential  to 
the  training  of  mind,  heart,  and  hand,  until  they  have  reached  the  adequate 
scope  and  aptitude  to  grapple  wisely  and  honestly  with  specific  objects  and 
a deliberately-chosen  career,  sanctioned  by  endowment  and  intelligent 
choice. 

Such  were  the  apparently  meagre  but  really  salubrious  influences  which, 
if  they  did  not  rapidly  elicit,  benignly  kept  the  soulful  force  and  faculty  of 
Paul  Akers  through  childhood.  Not  only  in  his  artistic  but  in  his  aesthetic 
character,  in  the  freshness  and  tenderness  of  his  nature,  in  the  truth  and 
earnestness  of  his  life,  we  can  trace  the  auspicious  influence  of  lowly  toil 
and  distance  from  the  conventional,  of  familiarity  with  privation,  of  nature 
and  of  home. 

In  1849  Akers  went  to  Boston,  and  obtained  the  requisite  instruction 
from  Joseph  Carew  in  plaster- casting.  He  then  returned  home  and  tried 
his  skill  therein  by  producing  a medallion  head — his  first  work  of  the  kind, 
and  as  such  cherished  by  his  family.  A head  of  Christ  modelled  in  clay 
was  his  next  attempt,  followed  by  a portrait-bust  which  was  declared  to  be 
“as  ugly  as  Fra  Angelica’s  devil,  and  a remarkably  faithful  likeness.” 
During  the  ensuing  summer  he  opened  a studio  in  Portland  with  Tilton, 
the  painter,  and  was  encouraged  in  his  art  by  those  of  his  fellow-citizens 
who  recognized  his  modest  worth  and  native  talent.  Among  the  most 
ardent  of  his  friends  was  John  Neal,  who  soon  made  his  claims  known 
through  the  press.  For  two  years  he  assiduously  devoted  himself  to 
plastic  art,  with  constantly  greater  success  ; and  among  the  busts  which 
established  his  reputation  were  those  of  Longfellow,  Samuel  Apple- 
ton  of  Boston,  Professor  Cleveland,  Rev.  Dr.  Nichols  of  Portland, 
Tilton,  subsequently  well  known  as  a landscape-painter,  and  several  others 
of  less  note.  In  1852  he  embarked  for  Europe,  and  passed  nearly  a year 
in  study  at  Florence,  where  he  modelled  a few  busts  and  bass-reliefs. 
During  this  visit  he  declared  himself  “ too  much  bewildered  by  the  sight 


6i6 


American  Artist  Life. 


of  the  treasures  of  art  to  accomplish  anything.”  On  his  return  home,  he 
executed  his  first  statue — “ Benjamin  in  Egypt,”  which  was  unfortunately 
destroyed  by  the  fire  which  consumed  the  Portland  Exchange.  He  passed 
the  next  winter  in  Washington,  and  was  busily  occupied  in  moulding  the 
features  of  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  Hon.  Linn 
Boyd,  Judge  McLean  of  the  Supreme  Court,  Hon.  Gerrit  Smith,  Hon. 
Edward  Everett,  and  others.  Several  medallions  executed  at  this 
period  attest  his  growing  skill  and  unflinching  industry.  Of  these,  that  of 
the  Texan  Senator,  Sam  Houston,  especially  attracted  praise.  He  also 
modelled  an  ideal  head  of  “ Peace,”  and  visited  Providence,  R.  I.,  to  fulfil 
commissions  for  portraits.  In  1854  he  returned  to  Italy,  and  fixed  his 
residence  at  Rome,  where  the  heads  modelled  in  America  were  finished  in 
marble.  After  a brief  sojourn  in  Naples,  he  went  to  Rome,  and  there 
wrought  assiduously  upon  several  ideal  heads  and  groups,  only  a portion 
of  which  were  reproduced  in  stone.  Meantime  he  made  fine  copies  of  famous 
works  in  the  Vatican,  chiefly  commissions  from  New  York  and  Boston. 
The  most  esteemed  of  his  original  creations  at  Rome  are  “ Una  and  the 
Lion,”  “ Isaiah,”  “ Schiller’s  Diver,”  “ Diana  and  Endymion,”  “ Girl  pressing 
Grapes,”  and  the  u Reindeer.”  After  this  term  of  prosperous  activity, 
Akers  sojourned  in  Switzerland  and  Venice,  and  passed  a summer  in 
Great  Britain  ; lingering  in  Paris,  where  he  worked  upon  several  concep- 
tions ; returning  to  Rome,  and  there  executing  the  “ St.  Elizabeth  of 
Hungary,”  the  “ Lost  Pearl-Diver,”  and  a colossal  head  of  Milton, 
which  last  and  the  u St.  Elizabeth”  were  frequently  repeated.  Copies  of 
them  in  private  hands  are  now  in  Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  New  York. 
His  health,  always  delicate,  now  began  to  fail,  and  he  embarked  for  his 
native  country  in  the  hope  of  there  renewing  his  strength.  But  he  could 
no  longer  work  in  safety,  except  at  long  intervals,  in  the  wet  clay  ; yet  kept 
up  his  practice  in  modelling,  and  gratified  his  need  of  artistic  labor  by  exe- 
cuting numerous  studies,  and  a few  busts  and  medallions.  Believing 
his  disease  was  partially  conquered,  he  again  embarked  for  Italy.  His 
journey  was  interrupted  by  a serious  attack  of  illness  at  Lyons,  from  which 
he  recovered  as  it  were  by  a miracle,  and  succeeded  in  renewing  his  career 
in  Italy,  though  still  feeble.  The  last  work  he  accomplished  in  Rome 
was  a medallion  likeness  of  his  wife,  whose  gifts  of  mind  and  graces  of 
character  admirably  fitted  her  to  minister  to  his  declining  health,  and  sym- 
pathize with  his  pure  and  noble  aspirations.  In  the  summer  of  i860,  he 
once  again  sought  the  country  of  his  birth,  trusting  to  the  ameliorating 
influence  of  its  familiar  air  and  endeared  associations  to  recuperate  his 
enfeebled  frame.  By  medical  advice  he  passed  the  ensuing  winter  in 
Philadelphia,  and  devoted  all  his  remaining  days  of  partial  health  to  the 
practice  of  the  art  he  loved — the  unfinished  head  of  a cherub  remaining 
impressed  with  his  touch  when  the  hand  which  moulded  it  was  cold  in 
death.  Akers  passed  calmly  away  from  earth  on  the  21st  of  May,  1861, 
leaving  an  infant  girl  and  an  affectionate  widow,  whose  tender  care 
smoothed  and  cheered  his  pathway  to  the  .grave.  He  died  with  a smile 


Sculptors. 


617 


of  tranquillity,  grasping  the  hand  of  a devoted  brother,  when  life  to 
him  was  enriched  by  love,  bright  with  promise,  and  endeared  by  artistic 
triumphs. 

And  yet  it  was  by  the  innate  force  of  his  birthright,  and  not  through 
direCl  outward  encouragement,  that  the  sculptor  emerged  from  the  mechanic 
and  the  rustic  ; for  kindliness,  born  of  natural  affeCtion,  did  not  recognize 
or  cherish  the  peculiar  tendencies  and  traits  of  the  born  artist.  His  pecu- 
liarities were  not  favored,  scarcely  perceived,  until  a thoughtful  retrospect, 
prompted  by  subsequent  achievement,  made  that  holy  promise  apparent  to 
memory  which  was  veiled  to  familiar  observation.  There  is,  in  our  view,  a 
tender  mystery  in  the  obscure  and  isolated  unfolding  of  the  gifted  soul ; 
and  from  all  we  can  gather  of  the  boyhood  and  youth  of  Akers,  confirmed 
by  his  mature  traits,  seldom  in  American  artist-life  have  the  indications  of 
the  organization  and  spirit  thereof  been  more  clearly  manifest.  The  outlines 
of  his  career  suggests  most  inadequately  the  individuality  and  sweetness 
of  his  character.  Reverence  was  in  him  a prevailing  sentiment — exhibited 
instinctively  toward  age,  nature,  and  all  the  sanCtities  of  life.  His  material 
comrades  long  amused  themselves  with  a soliloquy  one  of  them  overheard 
and  reported,  uttered  by  Paul  as  he  leaned  musing  at  eventide  over  the 
parapet  of  the  village  bridge.  A man,  notorious  for  his  vulgar  irascibility 
and  low  ignorance,  passed  by.  “ If  I thought,”  said  the  boy,  “ I should 
never  be  anything  more  than  that  man,  I would  throw  myself  into  the 
river  now.”  His  very  name  is  a tribute  to  his  religious  sensibilities  ; it 
was  bestowed  on  him  in  sport,  because  of  his  grave  rebuke  of  the  profanity 
of  his  young  companions,  and  his  serious  views  of  life.  Christened  Ben- 
jamin, he  was  nicknamed  St.  Paul,  and  by  the  latter  name  he  became  en- 
deared to  his  friends  and  known  to  fame.  He  had  that  keen  enjoyment  of 
life  which  seems  to  be  the  natural  compensation  for  unusual  sensitiveness  ; 
he  delighted  with  all  an  artist’s  quick  perceptions  in  the  minor  and  casual 
blessings  of  existence  ; to  him  always  and  everywhere  “ a thing  of  beauty 
was  a joy ; ” his  love  for  and  interest  in  children  was  a perpetual  gratifi- 
cation ; scores  of  child-loves  cheered  and  charmed  his  life  ; anecdotes  of 
infancy,  peculiarities  of  childhood,  and  gracefulness  and  spontaneity  ap- 
pealed to  his  artistic  perceptions  and  his  humane  sympathies  ; animal  life 
and  character  won  his  eye  and  heart ; clouds,  leaves,  the  human  face 
divine,  the  pebbles  and  blossoms  of  the  wayside,  had  for  him  an  inex- 
pressible and  suggestive  attraction.  “ It  makes  no  difference  what  happens 
to  me,”  he  would  say  to  those  near  and  dear  to  him,  “ so  long  as  I can  hear 
sparrows  sing  and  see  children  roll  on  the  grass. ” Even  in  the  waning 
hours  of  life  he  requested  to  have  his  bed  moved  near  the  window,  that  he 
might  watch  the  crimson  tip  of  a maple  bough.  This  cheerfulness  never 
flagged.  He  listened  to  the  last  with  deep  interest  for  “ news  from  the 
South  ; ” for  his  death  was  coincident  with  the  outbreak  of  the  base  rebel- 
lion which  has  since  devastated  .the  land.  He  was  singularly  disinterested 
in  the  exercise  of  his  art,  and  worked  long  and  frequently  to  gratify  friends. 
Many  of  his  studies  have  never  met  the  public  eye  ; and  his  recorded 


6 1 8 


American  Artist  Life. 


thoughts,  though  desultory,  betray  the  habit  of  deep  reflection  and  ardent 
contemplation  of  the  beautiful  and  the  true.  But  few  of  these  have  found 
their  way  into  print.  Among  the  exceptions  are  an  admirable  paper  on 
Art-expression  ; a critical  estimate  of  Page,  the  American  portrait-painter  ; 
and  a pensive  autobiographical  effusion  called  “The  Artist  Prisoner,” 
written  when  disease  had  stayed  his  hand,  but  not  chilled  or  checked  his 
soul.  The  former  of  these  writings  appeared  in  The  Crayon  ; the  two 
latter  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly. 

From  one  of  these  we  perceive  how  thoughtful  and  elevated  was  his 
ideal  of  art : — 

“It  is  in  the  presence  of  nature  itself,”  he  writes,  “that  a power  is  de- 
manded with  which  mechanical  superiority  and  physical  qualifications  have 
little  to  do.  Here  the  man  stands  alone — the  only  medium  between  the 
ideal  and  the  outward  world,  wherefrom  he  must  choose  the  signs  which 
alone  are  permitted  to  become  the  language  of  his  expression.  None  can 
help  him,  as  before  he  was  helped  by  the  man  whose  success  was  the  parent 
of  his  own.  Here  is  no  longer  copying.” 

Of  the  true  significance  of  portraiture  he  observes  : 

“ Than  a really  great  portrait,  no  work  of  art  can  be  more  truly  historical. 
We  feel  the  subjeCtiveness  of  compositions  intended  to  transmit  faCts  to 
posterity  ; and  unless  we  know  the  artist,  we  are  at  a loss  as  to  the  degree 
of  trust  which  we  may  place  in  his  impressions.  A true  portrait  is  objec- 
tive. The  individuality  of  the  one  whom  it  represents  was  the  ruling  force 
in  the  hour  of  its  production  ; and  to  the  spirit  of  a household,  a community, 
a kingdom,  or  an  age,  that  individuality  is  the  key.  There  is,  too,  in  a 
genuine  portrait  an  internal  evidence  of  its  authenticity.  No  artist  ever 
was  great  enough  to  invent  the  combination  of  lines,  curves,  and  planes, 
which  composes  the  face  of  a man.  There  is  the  accumulated  significance 
of  a lifetime — subtile  traces  of  failures  or  of  victories  wrought  years  ago. 
How  these  will  manifest  themselves,  no  experience  can  point  out,  no  intu- 
ition can  foresee  or  imagine.  The  modifications  are  infinite,  and  each  is 
completely  removed  from  the  region  of  the  accidental.” 

Paul  Akers  was  small  in  stature  ; delicately  organized,  but,  before  his 
invalid  days,  athletic,  agile,  and  lithe  ; his  head  was  Shakespearian  in  type, 
the  brow  being  high  and  broad,  and  the  crown  bald  ; his  gray  eyes  were 
grave,  tender,  and  magnetic,  and  his  hair  silky  and  sunny,  and  he  wore  his 
beard  intaCt.  Candid  and  winsome  in  manner,  he  had  an  almost  morbid 
shrinking  from  giving  pain  to  others,  and  delighted  to  minister  to  their 
pleasure. 

How  naturally  and  sweetly  the  memory  of  such  a man  associates  itself 
with  the  most  delicate  and  beautiful  objeCts  of  nature,  is  tenderly  manifest 
in  an  ode  called  Violet-Planting,  written  by  his  gifted  widow,  the  spring 
after  his  death,  from  which  an  extraCfc  will  appropriately  close  this  sketch 
of  Paul  Akers  : — 


No  more,  alas  ! alas  ! 

0 fairest  blossoms  which  the  wild  bee  sips  ! 


Sculptors. 


619 


Along  your  pleasant  places  shall  he  pass, 

Ere  from  your  freshened  leaves  the  night-dew  drips, 

Culling  your  blooms  in  handfuls  from  the  grass, 

Pressing  your  tender  faces  to  his  lips — 

Ah  ! never  any  more  ! 

Yet  I recall,  a little  while  before 
He  passed  behind  this  mystery  of  death, 

How,  bringing  home  great  handfuls,  won  away 
From  the  dark  wood-haunts  where  he  loved  to  stray 
Until  his  dewy  garments  were  replete 

With  wafts  of  odorous  breath, 

With  sods  all  mossy  sweet 
And  all  awake  and  purple  with  new  bloom, 

He  filled  and  crowded  every  window-seat, 

Until  each  pleasant  room 
Was  fragrant  with  your  mystical  perfume : 

Now  vainly  do  I watch  beside  the  door — 

Ah  ! never  any  more  ! 

The  earliest  breath  of  June 
Blows  the  white  tassels  from  the  cherry-boughs. 

And  in  the  deepest  shadow  of  the  noon 
The  mild-eyed  oxen  browse. 

How  tranquilly  he  sleeps — ^ 

He,  whom  so  bitterly  we  mourn  as  dead  ! 

Although  the  new  month  sweeps 
The  over-blossomed  spring-flower  from  his  bed, 

Giving  fresh  buds  therefor — 

Although  beside  him  still  Love  waits  and  weeps, 

And  yonder  goes  the  war. 

Wake,  violets,  wake  ! 

Open  your  blue  eyes  wide  1 
Watch  faithfully  his  lonely  pillow  here  ; 

Let  no  rude  foot-fall  break 
Your  slender  stems,  nor  crush  your  leaves  aside  ; 

See  that  no  harm  comes  near 
The  dust  to  me  so  dear : 

O violets  ! hear  ! 

The  clouds  hang  low  and  heavy  with  warm  rain  l 
And  when  I come  again, 

Lo  ! with  your  blossoms  his  loved  grave  shall  be 
Blue  as  the  marvellous  sea 
Laving  the  borders  of  his  Italy  ! 


APPENDIX. 


LIST  OF  AMERICAN  PICTURES 

IN 

PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  COLLECTIONS. 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

N.  Y.  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY. 


A mes.— -Portraits  of  Clarkson  Crolius, 
Gouverneur  Morris,  George  Clin- 
ton. 

Cole. — Course  of  Empire — -five  paint- 
ings ; Italian  Scenery  ; Temple  of 
Segestae ; Moonlight ; Summer 
Sunset ; Catskill  Creek  ; Conway 
Peak,  White  Mountains. 

Cummings. — Portrait  of  Macready,  as 
Tell'. 

Durand. — Portraits  of  John  Quincy 
Adams,  John  Adams,  James  Mon- 
roe, Jefferson,  Madison,  Jackson, 
Washington,  Mrs.  Washington, 
Luman  Reed  ; Peddler  and  his 
Wares  ; Wrath  of  Peter  Stuyve- 
sant.  Landscape,  The  Old  Oak. 

Edmonds. — The  Image  Peddler. 

Elliott. — Portraits  of  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis, 
Dan.  Stanton,  P.  M.  Wetmore, 
R.  W.  Griswold. 

Flagg. — -The  Chess  Players;  Falstaff; 
little  Savoyard  ; Rebecca  ; Wood- 
chopper’s  Boy  ; Match  Girl ; Lady 
and  Parrot ; The  Nun  ; Mother  and 
Child  ; Murder  of  Princes  ; Lady 
Jane  Grey. 

Gignoux. — The  Mammoth  Cave. 

Gray. — Portrait  of  Bryant. 

Hicks. — Portiaits  of  Luther  Bradish, 
Dr.  Kane,  Dr.  Abbott. 

Huntington. — Portraits  of  Sir  Charles 
Eastlake  and  the  Earl  of  Carlisle. 


Ingham.  — The  Sibyl ; The  Black 
Plume. 

Jarvis. — Portraits  of  E.  Benson,  De 
Witt  Clinton,  John  Randolph, 
Robert  Morris,  Charles  Coles, 
John  Stanford,  D.D.,  C.  D.  Col- 
den,  D.  D.  Tompkins. 

Marchant. — Portrait  of  J.  Quincy  Ad- 
ams. 

Nehlig. — Cavalry  Charge  ofLt.  Hidden. 

Osgood,  S.  S.  — Portraits  of  Thomas 
Campbell,  Lord  Lyndhurst,  F.  S. 
Osgood,  Alice  Cary,  Captain  John 
A.  Sutter,  Edgar  A.  Poe,  Mrs. 
Hewitt. 

Peale , C.  TV. — Portraits  of  Alex.  Ham- 
ilton, Family  Group,  Geo*ge 
Washington,  J.  B.  Bordley,  Van 
Berckel,  G.  C.  Stuart. 

Peale,  Rembrandt. — Portraits  of  Ram- 
mohun  Roy,  Joseph  Dennie,  Jef- 
erson,  Dr.  Priestley,  Mrs.  Madison, 
Decatur,  Commodore  Jones,  Com- 
modore Bainbridge,  Commodore 
Perry,  Mr.  Tilghman. 

Page. — Ruth  and  Naomi. 

Pratt. — Portrait  of  C.  D.  Colden. 

Stuart. — Portraits  of  Washington,  John 
Adams. 

Taggart. — Portrait  of  Fitz-Greene  Hal- 
leck. 

Thompson,  C.  G. — Portrait  of  C.  F. 

Hoffman. 


622 


American  Artist  Life . 


Trumbull. — Portraits  of  John  Pintard, 
Dr.  Smalley,  Alexander  Hamilton. 
Vanderlyn. — Portrait  of  Aaron  Burr. 
Ver  Bryck. — The  Dutch  Bible. 

West,  Benj. — Hector  parting  with  his 
Wife ; Chyseis  returned  to  her 
Father. 

White,  E. — Murillo  and  the  Beggar  Boy. 
Wright,  Jos. — Portrait  of  John  Jay. 


SCULPTURE. 

Brackett. — Bust  of  Allston. 

Brcnvn,  H.  K. — Ruth  ; Boys  and  Dog  ; 
Bust  of  Bryant. 


Clevenger. — Busts  of  James  Kent,  Oli- 
ver Wolcott,  W.  H.  Harrison, 
Henry  Clay,  Edward  Everett,  Phil- 
ip Hone. 

Dixey. — Bust  of  Alexander  Hamilton. 

Frazee. — Bust  of  John  Jay. 

Greenough. — Bust  of  John  Quincy  Ad- 
ams. 

Ives. — Bust  of  Benjamin  Silliman. 

Jarvis. — Bust  of  Thomas  Paine. 

Jones,  T.  D. — Bust  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln. 

Launitz. — Bust  of  P.  A.  Jay. 

Mills  {Clark). — Bust  of  D.  J.  Mac- 
gowan. 

Palmer. — Bust  of  W.  Irving. 


CITY  HALL, 

Catlin. — Portrait  of  Governor  Clinton. 

Eliott. — Portraits  of  Governors  Bouck, 
Hunt,  Seymour ; Mayors  Kings- 
lancl  and  Wood. 

Gray. — Portrait  of  Governor  Young. 

Hicks. — Portraits  of  Governors  Fish 
and  King  ; Mayor  Tiemann. 

Huntington.  — Portraits  of  Governor 
Morgan  ; Mayor  Harper,  part. 

Inman. — Portraits  of  Governors  Van 
Buren  and  Seward  ; Mayors  Law- 
rence, Clark,  Varian,  Harper  (fin- 
nished  by  Huntington). 

Jarvis , C.  W.  — Portraits  of  Mayor 
Woodhull,  President  Jefferson, 
Henry  Clay,  General  Bolmar,  Gen- 
eral Paez,  General  Jacob  Morton. 

Jarvis. — Governor  Fillmore,  General 
Brown,  Commodore  Swift,  Com- 
modore Bainbridge,  Commodore 
Perry,  Commodore  Hull,  Commo- 
dore McDonough. 

Kellogg. — Portrait  of  General  Scott. 

Mooney.  — Portrait  of  Mayor  Bowen 
Westervelt. 


CENTRAL  PARK 

Crawford.  — Marble  statue  of  Flora, 
presented  by  R.  K.  Haight. 

8 7 casts  in  Plaster,  from  Craw- 


NATIONAL  ACADEMY 

Leslie. — Portrait  of  Allston,  presented 
by  Morse. 

Sty  dam. — A collection  of  his  paintings 
presented  to  the  Academy. 


NEW  YORK. 

Morse. — Portraits  of  Mayor  Paulding, 
Lafayette,  General  Monckton. 
Powell. — Major  Robert  Anderson. 
Page. — Portrait  of  Governor  Marcy. 
Shegogue. — Portrait  of  Jacob  Hays. 
Sully. — Portraits  of  General  Williams, 
Commodore  Decatur. 

Spencer. — Portrait  of  Mayor  Morris. 
Trumbull. — Portraits  of  Governor  Lew- 
is, Washington,  Governor  Clinton. 
Vanderlyn.  — Portraits  of  Governor 
Yates  ; Mayor  Holden,  Mayor 
Hone  ; Presidents  Jackson,  Mon- 
roe, and  Taylor. 

Waldo. — Portraits  of  Mayors  Willett, 
Radcliffe,  and  Allen  ; General  Ma- 
comb. 

Weir. — Portraits  of  Governor  Throop 
and  Mayor  Lee. 

Whitethorne.  — Portrait  of  Governor 
Wright. 

Wenzler. — Portrait  of  Mayor  Brady. 
Weimar. — Portraits  of  John  Jay,  Alex- 
ander Hamilton. 


MUSEUM,  N.  Y. 

ford’s  works,  presented  by  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford. 


F DESIGN,  NEW  YORK. 

Also,  Portraits  of  all  the  Academi- 
cians. 

Pictures  presented  by  each  of  the 
Academicians. 


Appendix . 


623 


PRIVATE  COLLECTIONS .* 
COLLECTION  OF  W.  T.  BLODGETT,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


Boughton. — Passing  into  the  Shade. 
Church . — Original  Study  for  Cotopaxi ; 
Aurora ; Ecuador ; Heart  of  the 
Andes. 

C ropsey. — Olden  Time. 

Parley. — Foraging  Scene  in  Vhginia; 

Charge  at  Fredericksburg. 

Hall. — Grapes,  White  and  Purple. 


Haseltine. — N arragansett  Coast. 

Hicks. — Booth  as  Iago. 

Johnson  {Eastman).  — Family  Group  j 
Corn  Sheller. 

Kensett. — Autumn. 

Leutze. — Rummaging. 

Rowse. — Four  Crayon  Heads. 


COLLECTION  OF  CYRUS  BUTLER,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


Bristol. — On  the  Housatonic. 

Brown , J.  G. — Waking  up  the  Wrong 
Passenger. 

Durand. — Lake  George. 

Hall , George. — Red,  White,  and  Blue. 


McEntee. — Virginia  (sent  to  the  Paris 
Exposition,  1867)  ; November. 
Mignot. — On  the  Passaic. 

Suydam. — The  Salt  Marshes,  L.  I. 
Weir , J".  F. — An  Artist’s  Studio. 


COLLECTION  OF  A.  M.  COZZENS,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


Baker. — Portrait  of  a Girl. 

Boughton. — The  Match  Boy. 

Brown.  — The  Smoker  ; “ Allegro  and 
Penseroso.” 

Church. — Andes  of  the  Ecuador. 

Cole.— Campagna  di  Roma  ; A Moun- 
tain Pass ; Catskill  Creek. 

Cropsey. — The  Falls  of  Tivoli;  Bay  of 
New  York. 

Doughty.  — View  near  Paris;  Trout 
Brook. 

Durand. — The  Beeches. 

Ed?nonds. — Reading  the  Bible. 

Gray.  — The  Greek  Lovers  ; Land- 
scape. 

Hays. — A Basket  of  Strawberries. 

Hicks. — Booth  as  Iago  ; Street  in  Am- 
alfi ; Italian  Woman. 

Homer  ( Winslow).  — Harrowing,  a 
Landscape. 

Huntington. — Christian  in  the  Valley; 
The  Sacred  Lesson;  Italian  Wo- 
man at  a Shrine  ; Shepherd  Boy  ; 
Mercy’s  Dream  (original  sketch). 


Inman. — Portrait  of  Bishop  Moore  ; 

Hackett  as  Rip  Van  Winkle. 
Kensett. — White  Mountains  ; Niagara  ; 
Lake  George  ; Newport ; Newport, 
Second  Beach  ; Mountain  Torrent ; 
Newport  Bay;  Beverley  Shore, 
Mass.,  and  three  other  Landscapes. 
Lang. — The  Convalescent ; Cenci  in 
Prison  ; The  Y oung  Reaper. 
Leslie. — Expectation. 

Leutze. — Interior  by  Moonlight ; Hester 
Prynne  and  Little  Pearl  ; The 
Captive  Prince  ; Nurse  and  Child  ; 
Columbus  before  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella ; Puritan  and  his  Daugh- 
ter ; Boy  and  Dog. 

Mount. — Boys  Gambling  in  Barn. 
Rossiter. — The  Confidante. 

Stuart  {Gilbert).  — Portrait  of  Dr. 

Houghton. 

Sully. — Childhood. 

Tait. — Young  Quail. 

Weir,  R.  W. — The  Microscope. 


COLLECTION  OF  ROBT.  HOE,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


LANDSCAPES. 

Brevoort. — Sunshine. 

Casilear. — Spring  in  the  Woods. 
Church. — Our  Flag. 

Durand. — Sunlight. 

* Lists  of  Collections  of  W.  H.  Aspinwall, 
furnished. 


Gifford. — Sunrise  on  the  Sea-shore. 
Gignoux. — First  Snow  ; Spring. 

Hart , J.  M. — On  the  Farmington  River, 
Summer  ; OGober  ; Winter  Scene  ; 
Marsh  and  Water  Fowl  ; A Sum- 
mer Sketch. 

jst  Belmont,  and  some  others,  have  not  been 


624 


American  Artist  Life. 


Hubbard. — A Study. 

Kensett.  — Reminiscence  of  Italy  ; A 
Wet  Day  in  Summer;  Sunset  on 
the  Coast. 

McEntee , J. — Assokan  Woods. 
Whittredge. — In  Westphalia. 

FIGURE  PICTURES. 

Baker. — Italian  Girl. 

Beard. — Reflediion. 


Boughton. — Bit  of  Advice. 

Dellaas. — Hastings,  on  the  Sea. 

Gray. — Vision  of  Oberon  ; Toilet ; 

Artist  in  Chrysalis. 

Guy. — Happy  Childhood. 

Huntington. — Rosalind  (As  You  Like 
It). 

Johnson , E. — Sunday  Morning  ; Morn- 
ing ; Himself. 

Van  Beest. — Marine,  Coast  of  France. 


COLLECTION  OF  JOHN  TAYLOR  JOHNSTON,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


Allston  ( Washington ). — Spalatro’s  Vis- 
ion of  the  Bloody  Hand. 

Beard , W.  H. — Santa  Claus  ; Grimal- 
kin’s Dream. 

Bellows , A.  F. — A Nook. 

Boughto7t , G.  H. — Moonlight  Skating. 

Brown,  J.  G. — “ Thus  perish  the  mem- 
ory of  our  loves  ; ” Thoughts  by 
the  Wayside. 

Church , F.  E. — Niagara  ; Twilight  in 
the  Wilderness  ; Sunset  in  Ver- 
mont. 

Cole  (Thomas).  — Voyage  of  Life — 
Childhood,  Youth,  Manhood,  Old 
Age  ; The  Mountain  Ford  ; Kenil- 
worth Castle. 

Colman , S. — Harbor  of  Seville  ; The 
Robins’  Bath. 

De  Haas,  M.  F.  H. — Marine  View, 
Scarboro’. 

Doughty , Thos. — Hudson  River. 

Durand,  A..  B. — View  near  Meyringen, 
Switzerland. 

Edmonds , F.  IV. — Gil  Bias  and  Arch- 
bishop. 

Elliott. — Portrait  of  A.  B.  Durand. 

Gifford,  S.  R. — The  Coming  Storm. 

Gignoux,  R. — Saguenay  River. 

Gray,  H.  P. — Ilagar. 

Hart,  J.  M.,  and  A.  E.  Tait. — Misty 
Morning,  with  Ducks. 


Hart,  Wifi. — Morning  after  a Fog. 

Haseltine,  W.  S. — Indian  Rock,  Narra- 
gansett ; Castle  Rock,  Nahant. 

Hays,  W.  J. — Skye  Terrier;  Trout; 
Ossosway,  Dr.  Hayes’  Esquimaux 
Dog. 

Hennessy,  IV.  J. — Comparison. 

Honier  ( Winslow). — Prisoners  from  the 
Front. 

Huntington,  D.  — The  Cromwellian  ; 
Study  in  the  Woods. 

Johnson  (Eastman). — The  Chimney 

Corner ; New  England  Boy  at 
Breakfast. 

Lambdin,  G.  C. — The  Reverie  ; Sunday 
Morning  in  Spring. 

Leutze,  E. — Absorbed  ; The  Puritan’s 
Daughter;  Henry VIII.  and  Hol- 
bein. 

McEntee,  J. — November  Days. 

Richards,  IV.  T. — The  Spring. 

Shattuck,  A.  D. — Stockbridge  Scenery. 

Staigg,  R.  M. — Crossing  Sweepers  ; The 
Little  Gate-keepers. 

Stuart,  Gilbert. — Consul  Barry,  Balti- 
more. 

Weir,  R.  W. — Passtum  by  Moonlight. 

Woodville. — A Fancy  Head,  painted 
from  a Waterloo  drummer,  sup- 
posed to  be  intended  for  a Vis- 
conte. 


COLLECTION  OF  JAMES  LENOX,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


Bierstadt — Valley  of  the  Yo-Semite. 
Chapman. — I Pifferari  and  First  Ital- 
ian Milestone. 

Church. — Cotopaxi. 

Cole. — Expulsion  from  Paradise. 

Copley. — Portrait  of  a Lady. 

Durand. — Ruloff  Jansen’s  Kill. 

Hays. — Prairie  Dogs  ; Rocky  Mountain 
Hares. 


Huntington. — Portraits  of  General  Ha- 
milton, Columbus  ; Melancholy. 
Inman,  Henry. — Portrait  of  Dr.  Chal- 
mers ; Dismissal,  Country  School ; 
Group  of  Heads  after  Reynolds  ; 
View  of  Dundrennan  Abbey. 
Jarvis. — Portrait  of  a Gentleman. 
Kensett. — Coast  Scenery. 

Leslie. — Portrait  of  Irving  ; Our  Saviour 


Appendix . 625 


Teaching  His  Disciples ; Christ, 
Mary,  and  Martha  ; Pharisee  and 
Publican  ; Mother’s  Return  ; Mo- 
ther and  Child,  after  Raphael. 
Mount. — The  Turn  of  the  Leaf. 

Newtoii  [Stuart). — The  Dull  Ledlure  ; 
The  Greek  Girl. 

Peak  (pas.). — Portrait  of  Washington. 


COLLECTION  OF  R.  M. 

Baker , G.  A. — Two  Portraits. 

Beard,  W.  H. — False  Pretences. 

Benson,  E. — Reverie  ; Over  the  Mead- 
ows. 

Boughton , G.  H. — Repose  ; Bashful,  yet 
Fond  ; Sealed  Letter. 

Bristol. — St.  Augustine,  Florida. 

Brown,  p.  G. — Trudging  in  the  Snow. 

Capferty. — Fruit  Piece. 

Casilear,  J.  W. — Swiss  Lake ; Swiss 
Scenery;  Four  Landscapes,  The 
Seasons. 

Church,  F.  E. — New  England  Scenery. 

Cole,  T. — Tornado  in  American  Forest. 

Coleman,  S. — Genesee  Lake  ; Spanish 
Scene ; Landscape,  Evening. 

Cranch,  C.  P. — Venice. 

Cropsey,  J.  F. — Mount  Jefferson  ; Four 
Landscapes  — Morning,  Noon, 
Twilight,  Moonlight ; English  Cot- 
tage ; Study. 

Durand.  — “ As  some  tall  Cliff ; ” 
North  River;  Study  of  Trees; 
Two  Landscapes  ; Lake  Scene. 

Ehninger. — The  Sword. 

Gifford,  S.  R. — Camp  of  the  Seventh 
Regiment ; Twilight  in  the  Wilder- 
ness ; Sunset. 

Gignoux,  R. — St.  Ann’s  Fall ; Sunset 
in  Dismal  Swamp. 

Gray,  H.  P. — Judgment  of  Paris  ; Ha- 
gar  and  Ishmael ; Two  Portraits. 

Greatorex,  Mrs.  E. — Landscape. 

Green. — Sweet  Sixteen. 

Guy. — School  Troubles. 

Haseltine , W.  S. — Seconnet  Point. 

Hays,  W.  J. — Dog’s  Plead. 

Hennessy , IV.  p. — Morning  Devotions  ; 
Gardener’s  Daughter. 

Hicks,  T. — Unexpected  Results. 


Peale  (Rembrandt). — Portrait  of  Wash- 
ington. 

Powers. — II  Penseroso. 

Stuart. — Portrait  of  Washington  ; Por- 
trait of  a Gentleman. 

Trumbull. — Portrait  of  a Lady. 

Vanderlyn. — From  the  Transfiguration, 
the  Mother  of  the  Demoniac  Boy. 


OLYPHANT,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 

Hotchkiss. — Harvesting  (two  pictures). 
Hubbard,  R.  W. — Three  Landscapes  ; 
Study. 

Huntington,  D. — The  Counterfeit  Note. 
pohnson , E. — » Getting  Warm;  The 
Little  Housekeeper ; Young  Letter- 
writer. 

Kensett,  p F. — October — Lake  George  ; 
Genesee  Valley  (two) ; Niagara 
Falls  and  Rapids  ; Trenton  ; New- 
port and  Harbor  ; Three  Studies  ; 
Two  Landscapes;  North  River; 
Housatonic  Valley;  White  Moun- 
tains ; Sea-shore  ; American  Falls, 
Niagara. 

Lambdin. — The  Initials  ; The  Mother 
of  a Large  Family. 

Lang,  Louis. — The  Cousins  ; Chinese 
Nurse  and  Child  ; Three  Sisters  ; 
Music  Lesson  ; Lily  Gatherers. 
Loop. — Pensioners. 

Leutze , E. — Interior. 

McEntee,  p. — Autumn. 

Mignot,  L.  R. — Winter  Landscape. 
Rossiter,  T.  P. — Evening. 

Shattuck,  A.  D. — Marine  View  ; Mount 
Chi  corona. 

Staigg,  R.  M. — Cat’s  Cradle  ; The 
Novel  Reader. 

Stone,  l¥.  O. — Portrait. 

Suydam,  p.  A. — Moonlight,  New  Lon- 
don. 

Tait,  A.  F. — Quail  and  Young. 

Vedder,  E. — Landscape,  Pro  Patria. 
White,  E. — The  Sacred  Lesson  ; The 
Pifferari ; Morning  with  Luther  ; 
Prayer  of  Faith. 

Whittredge. — Interior,  Taking  it  Easy; 

One  Hundred  Years  Ago. 

Weir,  Prof. — Niagara  Falls. 


COLLECTION  OF  MARSHALL  O.  ROBERTS,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


Baker,  G.  A.— Love  at  Sight ; Wild 
Flowers  ; Children  in  the  Woods. 
Bierstadt , A. — Emigrants  Crossing  the 
Plains. 


Bonfield,  G.  R. — Coast  Scene. 
Boughton,  G.  H. — Gipsy  Woman. 
Brown,  p.  G . — First  Cigar. 
Casilear. — Lake  George. 


40 


626 


American  Artist  Life. 


Chapman. — Rachel. 

Church. — Rainy  Season  in  Tropics  ; 
Under  Niagara  ; Mount  Katahdin  ; 
Sea  View,  Mount  Desert  Island. 
Cole,  Thomas. — The  Old  Mill ; Land- 
scape. 

Cranch,  C.  P. — Venice. 

Cropsey. — Coffe  Castle,  Ireland  ; Med- 
iterranean Coast. 

Peas,  C. — Long  Jakes. 

Durand,  A.  B.  — Morning  of  Life  ; 

Schroon  Lake  ; The  Rescue. 
Elliott,  C.  L. — Portrait  of  Himself. 
Gifford,  S.  R. — Quebec  ; Landscape. 
Gignoux. — Niagara  ; Indian  Summer, 
Va. 

Gray,  H.  P. — Just  Fifteen. 

Guy,  S.  G. — Field  Daisy  ; Feeding 
the  Ducks ; The  Sisters ; The 
PiGure  Book. 

Haas,  F.  H.  De. — Storm  at  Sea ; Coast 
of  France. 

Hall,  Geo.  H. — Under  the  Umbrella; 

Frederick  the  Great. 

Hart,  James  M. — Morning  in  the  Adi- 
rondacks  ; Midsummer  Day. 

Hart,  William. — Landscape. 

Hays,  W.  J. — Terrier  Dog ; Herd  on 
the  Move;  Dog’s  Head;  Noah’s 
Dove  ; Strawberries  ; Flowers. 
Haseltine. — Coast  Scene. 

Hicks. — Bull ; Landscape  ; Vesuvius  ; 

The  Harem  ; Shelley’s  Grave. 
Hinckley.  — Landscape  with  Deer  ; 

Landscape  with  Cows. 

Hows,  J.  A. — Interior  of  a Church. 
Huntington. — Mercy’s  Dream  ; Good 
Samaritan  ; Ruins  of  Rome  ; Lady 
Jane  Grey ; Fair  Sketcher ; Old 
Lawyer  ; Venice  ; Mountain  Tops  ; 
In  the  Woods  ; Portrait  of  a Lady. 
Ingha?n. — Portrait. 


Jewett,  W.  S. — Group,  Portraits. 

Johnson  [Eastman). — The  Post  Boy  ; 
The  Organ  Boy  ; Lady  at  Prayer  ; 
Hard  Cider;  The  Woodman. 

Kensett. — White  Mountains  ; Morn  on 
the  Shore  ; Two  Landscapes. 

Lambdin,  G.  C. — Lazy  Bones  ; Gather- 
ing Cherries ; In  the  Library ; 
Autumn  Grasses. 

Lang,  L. — Beatrice  Cenci ; Musical  In- 
spiration. 

Lazarus,  J.  H. — Indian  Princess. 

Leutze.  — Washington  Crossing  the 
Delaware  ; Rose  of  the  Alhambra  ; 
Triumph  of  the  Cross;  Crossing 
the  Alps  ; John  Knox  and  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots. 

Mignot.  — The  Race  (two) ; The 
Tropics. 

Mount. — Raffling  for  a Goose. 

Peale , J.  T. — The  Bullfinch. 

Peale  [Rembrandt).  — Babes  in  the 
Wood. 

Powell,  W.  H. — Landing  of  the  Pil- 
grims ; Scott’s  Entry  into  the  City 
of  Mexico. 

Ranney,  W.  — Wild  Horses ; The 
Muleteer ; Old  Oaken  Bucket. 

Rossiter. — Christ  Visiting  the  Sick. 

Rothermel,  P. — Beggar  Girl ; Cromwell 
in  the  Church. 

Stone,  W.  O. — Morning  Lesson. 

Sully,  T. — Woman  at  the  Well ; Young 
Girl  Offering  Flowers. 

Suydam,  J.  A. — Newport. 

Thompson. — Prairie  Flowers. 

Tilton. — Venice. 

Weir,  R.  W. — Embarkation  of  ihe  Pil- 
grims. 

White,  E. — Portrait  of  Himself. 

Woodville , R.  C. — Mexican  News. 


COLLECTION  OF  R.  L.  STUART,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


Bellows. — Indian  Camp. 
Bierstadt. — White  Mountains. 
Boughton. — W aiter. 

Casilear. — Lake. 

Church. — Summer. 

Cole. — Catskill ; Trees. 

Doughty. — Two  Landscapes. 
Durand. — Two  Landscapes. 
Edmonds. — Three  Figure  Pieces. 
Gifford. — Lake  Como. 

Gignoux. — Two  Landscapes. 
Hart. — Two  Landscapes. 

/Lays. — Terrier. 


Lnman. — Portrait. 

Inness. — Landscape. 

Jewett. — Landscape. 
Johnson,  E. — Musicians. 
Kensett. — Five  Landscapes. 
Lang. — One  piGure. 

Z eutze . — Elizabeth. 

Loop. — Two  piGures. 
McEntee. — Landscape. 
Rossiter. — Two  piGures. 
Staigg. — Two  piGures. 

Weir. — Near  Newburgh. 
Wiist. — Two  Landscapes. 


627 


Appendix. 

COLLECTION  OF  JONATHAN  STURGES,  Esq.,  N.  Y. 


Chapman.  — Israelites  Spoiling  the 
Egyptians  ; Etruscan  Girl ; Don- 
key’s Head. 

Church. — Morning  in  the  Cordilleras. 

Cole.  — Two  Landscapes  — Catskill ; 
View  of  Thames. 

Durand , A.  B. — In  the  Woods  ; Swiss 
Scenery  ; View  near  Saugerties  (his 
first  Landscape  to  order)  ; Judg- 
ment of  Gog  ; Four  Roman  Heads  ; 
Portrait  of  the  Turk  Edrehi ; Strat- 
ford-on-Avon  ; The  Bride  (a  por- 
trait) ; One  of  the  Graces  (a  copy 
from  Titian) ; The  Monk  (a  copy 
from  Titian) ; The  Knight  and 
Lady  (a  copy  from  Metzu) ; Music 
Lesson  (a  copy  from  Metzu) ; 


Portrait  of  Rembrandt  (a  copy 
from  Metzu). 

Edmonds. — The  Bashful  Cousin  ; Boy 
Stealing  Milk. 

Gray , H.  P. — Proserpine  and  Bacchus. 

Huntington. — Sleeping  Girl ; The  Am- 
anuensis ; Hagar  and  Ishmael. 

Ingham. — The  Flower  Girl ; The  Day 
Dream  ; Portrait  of  a Child. 

Inman , H. — The  News  Boy  ; Portrait 
of  Fanny  Kemble. 

Mount , W.  S. — The  Farmers  Nooning  ; 
Wringing  the  Pigs;  Turning  the 
Grindstone. 

Weir,  P.  W. — The  Child’s  Evening 
Prayer  ; Faith  Holding  the  Sacra- 
mental Cup. 


BOSTON. 

BOSTON  ATHENAEUM. 


Allston. — The  Student;  Isaac  of  York; 

Portrait  of  Benjamin  West. 

Cole. — Angel  appearing  to  the  Shep- 
herds. 

Doughty. — Landscape. 

Harding. — Portraits  of  IPancock,  Ad- 
ams, Webster,  C.  J.  Marshall. 
Inman. — Portrait  of  William  Wirt. 
Neagle. — Patrick  Lyon  ; Gilbert  Stuart. 


Stuart. — -Portraits  of  Washington,  Mrs. 
Washington,  Jos.  Perkins,  Com- 
modore Hull,  W.  S.  Shaw. 

Sully. — Portrait  of  W.  Tudor. 
Trumbull. — Priam  and  the  Body  of 
Hedfor. 

Weir. — Indian  Captive. 

West. — King  Lear. 


MASSACHUSETTS  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY. 


Harding. — Portraits  of  Daniel  Boone, 
Rev.  Charles  Lowell,  D.D. 

Henly. — Portrait  of  Samuel  Appleton. 
Newton  ( G.  Stuart). — Portrait  of  John 
Adams. 

Osgood. — Portrait  of  T.  L.  Winthrop. 


Stuart. — Portraits  of  Jeremiah  Allen  ; 
Edward  Everett  (unfinished) ; 
Lieut.  Governor  Cobb. 

And  several  portraits  by  Sargent, 
Pratt,  Marston,  Wight,  and  others. 


NEW  HAVEN. 

TRUMBULL  GALLERY. 


Trumbull. — Battle  of  Bunker  Hill ; 
Death  of  General  Montgomery ; 
Declaration  of  Independence  ; 
Capture  of  Hessians  at  Trenton ; 
Death  of  General  Mercer  at  Prince- 
ton ; Surrender  of  Burgoyne  ; Sur- 
render of  Cornwallis  ; Resignation 
of  Washington;  fifty-five  small 
Heads,  Miniatures,  and  Sketches  ; 


Portraits  of  Van  Rensselaer,  Wash- 
ington, life  size  (1793),  Alexander 
Hamilton,  Pres’d’t  Dwight,  Wash- 
ington, full  length  ( 1 792),  Governor 
Trumbull,  Rufus  King,  Christopher 
Gore  ; thirteen  other  Paintings, 
including  Paulus  Aimilius,  Woman 
taken  in  Adultery,  Earl  of  Angus 
conferring  Knighthood,  etc.,  etc. 


623 


American  Artist  Life. 

YALE  COLLEGE  GALLERY,  NEW  HAVEN. 


A llston. — Jeremiah. 

Morse. — Portraits  of  Professor  Silliman, 
Professor  Fisher,  President  Day. 
Smybert. — Portrait  of  Bishop  Berkeley. 


And  about  forty  other  portraits  by 
Jocelyn,  Waldo,  and  Jewett  Flagg, 
Earle,  etc. 


UTICA,  N.  Y. 

DR.  NICHOLAS  DERING. 
Huntington. — Two  Portraits  (1830). 


T.  R. 

Johnston , D. — Landscape. 

Martin,  Homer. — Landscape. 

Morse. — Peasant  Girl ; Portrait  of  Miss 
Breese. 


WARD 

Stuart. — Portrait  of  L.  R.  Yates;  Por- 
trait of  Mrs.  Yates. 


WALKER. 

McEntee. — T wilight. 

Palmer.  — Cameo  Portrait  (his  first 
work). 

West. — Portrait  of  Mrs.  Breese. 


HUNT. 

Trumbull. — Portrait  of  Mr.  Rogers. 


ANDREW  DEXTER. 


Birch , Thomas. — S hip wre ck. 
Morse. — Portrait  of  S.  M.  Dexter. 


Stuart. — Portrait  of  Andrew  Dexter. 


Paintings  by  Elliott,  Shattuck,  Huntington,  etc.,  belonging  to  Horatio  Seymour, 
J.  F.  Seymour,  W.  J.  Bacon,  G R.  Perkins,  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA. 

PENNSYLVANIA  ACADEMY  OF  FINE  ARTS. 


A llston. — Dead  Man  restored  by  Elisha. 

Doughty. — View  near  Hartford  ; On  the 
Susquehanna ; Landscape. 

Inman. — Portrait  of  Caleb  Cope. 

Leslie. — Musidora  (from  West)  ; Por- 
trait of  Lancaster  (educator) ; Por- 
traits of  G.  F. Cooke  as  Falstaff,  as 
Richard  III.,  and  as  Othello  ; Mur- 
der of  Rutland. 

May. — Dying  Brigand. 

Neagle. — Portrait  of  Lyon  at  his  Forge. 

Peale,  C.  W. — Portrait  of  himself ; 
Portraits  of  Geo.  Clymer,  Robert 
Morris. 


Peale  ( Rembrandt ). — Portraits  of  De- 
non,  J.  L.  David,  Houdon. 

R other mel. — Embarkation  of  Colum- 
bus. 

Stuart. — Portrait  of  Washington;  Por- 
trait of  Washington,  full  length. 

Sully. — Portraits  of  James  Ross,  Mrs. 
Wood  as  Amina,  Miss  Leslie, 
Fanny  Kemble  as  Juliet,  Benjamin 
West,  Cooke  as  Richard  III. 

Weber. — Landscape,  Evening. 

West. — Paul  and  Barnabas. 


Appendix. 


SCULPTURE. 

Brackett. — Bust  of  Bryant. 

Clevenger. — Busts  of  Hopkinson,  Alls- 
ton. 


629 

Frazee , G. — Bust  of  Judge  Marshall. 
Greenough. — Bust  of  Lafayette. 

Palmer. — Bust  of  Spring. 

Powers. — Busts  of  Proserpine,  T.  O. 
Adams. 


INDEPENDENCE  HALL. 


Inman. — Portrait  of  Mrs.  Penn. 

Peale , C.  IV. — Portraits  of  Robert 
Morris,  Gen.  Jos.  Reed,  Thomas 
Jefferson,  Dr.  Witherspoon,  Philip 
J^ivingston,  Rich.  Henry  Lee, 
Samuel  Huntington,  Charles  Car- 
roll,  Judge  Samuel  Chase,  Thomas 
McKean,  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush, 
John  Adams,  Hernando  Cortez, 
Volney,  Robert  Fulton,  Count 
Rochambeau,  General  James  Wil- 
kinson, Robert  Wharton,  Admiral 
Penn,  Chev.  Gerard,  Col.  W. 
Washington,  Gen.  Artemas  Ward, 
Timothy  Matlack,  Charles  Thomp- 
son, Marquis  Chastellux,  Col.  D. 
Humphreys,  Gen.  McIntosh, 
Bishop  White,  Mrs.  Robert  Morris, 
David  Rittenhouse,  Mrs.  M.  Wash- 
ington, Dr.  Muhlenberg,  Com. 
David  Porter,  Gen.  Smallwood, 
Baron  de  Kalb,  J.  Bayard  Smith, 
Gov.  W.  Finley,  Col.  Tennent, 
Gen.  Dan.  Morgan,  Gov.  Snyder  of 
Pa.,  Wm.  Findlay,  Gen.  H.  Dear- 
born, Elias  Boudinot,  Dr.  John 
Hanson,  Rufus  King,  Gen.  PI. 
Knox,  Col.  T.  Forrest,  Gen.  Otho 
Williams,  Gen.  Sumter,  Gen. 
Wm.  Clark,  Gen.  IT.  Gates,  Dr. 
David  Ramsay,  Count  Real,  Capt. 


Joshua  Barney,  Com.  John  Rodg- 
ers, Gen.  R.  Montgomery,  Gen.  du 
Portail,  Capt.  Nich.  Biddle,  Col. 
de  Cambray,  Gen.  Benj.  Lincoln, 
John  Page,  Capt.  Mereweather 
Lewis,  Christopher  Gadsden, 
Col.  Samuel  Smith,  Col.  John 
Eager  Howard,  Col.  Henry  Lee, 
Chev.  de  la  Luzerne,  John  Dick- 
inson, Brandt  (Indian  chief), 
Alex.  Hamilton,  C'nas.  Thomp- 
son, Timo.  Pickering.  Com. 
Hazlewood,  Gov.  Shulze  of  Pa., 
“Red  Jacket,”  Benj.  Franklin, 
Col.  J.  Long  (explorer),  Peyton 
Randolph,  Wm.  Moore,  Gen.  Nath. 
Greene,  Gen.  Jas  M.  Varnuin, 
Gen.  Chas.  Lee,  Henry  Laurens, 
Robert  Morris,  Albert  Gallatin, 
Capt.  Jas.  Biddle,  Col.  Ramsay, 
Wm.  Bartram,  Baron  Steuben, 
Gen.  St.  Clair,  Gov.  Jos.  Heister, 
John  Paul  Jones,  Gen.  Jos.  War- 
ren, Gen.  Thomas  Mifflin,  Wm. 
Rush. 

Peale  [Rembrandt). — Portraits  of  Dr. 
Robert  Hare,  General  Armstrong, 
Dr.  W.  Shippen,  Washington 
(equest.),  Gov.  Schulze. 

Sully,  T. — Portrait  of  Lafayette. 


II.  C.  CAREY,  Esq. 


Clonney. — Militia  Training. 

Coemgys.  — Little  Plunderers  ; The 
Ghost  Story. 

Doughty. — Two  Landscapes. 

Gray. — Cupid  begging  his  Arrow. 

Huntington. — Mercy’s  Dream  ; Christi- 
ana in  the  Valley;  Florentine 
Girl. 

Inman. — Lady  with  the  Masque  ; Por- 
trait of  Macaulay ; Mumble  the 
Peg. 

Leutze. — The  Poet’s  Dream. 

Leslie , Miss  A. — Duchess  and  Sancho 
(after  C.  R.  L.) ; Martha  and 
Mary  (after  C.  R.  L.) ; Lady  Jane 
Grey  (after  C.  R.  L.)  ; Group  of 
Children  ; Sir  Roger  de  Coverley 


(after  C.  R.  L.)  ; Sterne  in  the 
Glove  Shop  (after  Newton). 

Leslie , C.  R. — Tombstone,  Audrey,  and 
Clown  ; Olivia  ; Portrait  of  IT.  C. 
Carey ; The  Gipsy  Belle  ; Por- 
trait of  Himself ; Sterne  and 
Chaise  Vamper’s  Wife;  Uncle 
Toby  and  the  Widow. 

Mount,  IV.  F. — Painter’s  Triumph. 
Peale  ( Rembrandt ). — Erinna. 

Sully. — Portrait  of  E.  L.  Carey ; Por- 
trait of  a Child  ; Portrait  of  Fanny 
Kemble ; Group  of  Children  ; 
Strawberry  Girl  (after  Reynolds)  ; 
Miss  Kemble  as  Juliet;  Cottage 
Girl. 


630 


American  Artist  Life. 


JAMES  L.  CLAGHORN. 


Birch , T. — Three  Marine  Views. 
Casilear. — Lake  George. 

Cropsey. — Return  from  Hawking. 
Church. — The  Old  Mill ; On  the  Con- 
necticut. 

Durand. — Landscape,  Summer  ; Land- 
scape, White  Mountains. 
Edmonds. — Dance  in  the  Kitchen. 
Gifford. — Autumn  in  Catskills. 
Gignoux. — First  Snow. 

Hall,  G.  Id. — Four  Fruit  and  Flower 
Pieces. 

Hamilton. — On  the  Thames. 

Haseltine. — Near  Mount  Desert. 


Johnson , E. — A Drop  on  the  Sly. 
Lambdin. — From  Nature. 

Leutze. — Cromwellian  Trooper. 

Peale  ( Rembrandt ).  — Italian  Peasant  ; 

Wine  and  Cake. 

Read,  T.  B. — The  Penitent. 

Rothermel.  — Dominica,  Infant  Bac- 
chus ; Paul  before  Agrippa. 

Stuart. — W ashington. 

Sully. — The  Pet. 

Weber. — Ruined  Monastery. 

Whittredge.  — In  the  Bernese  , Alps. 
Drawings  by  Darley,  etc. 


COLLECTION  OF  SAMUEL  FALES,  Esq. 


Kensett. — View  near  Newport. 

Moran. — Five  Marine  Views  ; Five 
Landscapes. 

Peale  ( Rembrandt ). — Portrait. 
Rothermel. — Studio  near  Genarro. 


Sully. — Two  Sketches  in  Oil. 

Stuart  {Gilbert). — Portrait  of  S.  Fales, 
1806. 

Tait. — Happy  Family  (Grouse). 

Weber  [Paul). — Seven  Landscapes. 


COLLECTION  OF  J.  W.  FIELD,  Esq. 


Cropsey. — View  near  Newport. 
Doughty. — View  near  Fishkill. 
Furness. — The  Boy  Student. 
Frankenstein. — Straw  Hat. 
Kensett. — Lan  ds  cap  e . 

Leutze. — The  Return. 


Malbone. — Miniature  of  Mrs.  Peters. 
Stuart. — Portrait. 

Smybert. — Two  Portraits. 

Wild,  H G. — Six  Landscapes  and 
Portraits. 


COLLECTION  OF 

Birch,  T. — Fight  between  the  United 
States  and  Macedonian  ; Fight  be- 
tween the  Constitution  and  Guer- 
riere. 

Boughton. — Dismal  Swamp. 

Cole. — The  Clove,  Catskills. 

Cropsey — Two  Allegories,  Peace  and 
War. 

De  Haas. — Three  Marine  Views. 

Gifford. — Mansfield  Mountains,  Ver- 
mont. 

Gignoux.  — Niagara  Falls;  Trenton 
Falls. 

Johnson , E. — Chimney-sweep. 

Lang. — Queen  Elizabeth  and  Margaret 
Lanbrun. 


J.  HARRISON,  Esq. 

Leutze. — Maid  of  Saragossa. 

Peale,  C.  W. — Portraits  of  Franklin, 
Washington. 

Rothermel.  — King  Lear,  Gloucester, 
etc.  ; Patrick  Henry  speaking  to 
the  Burgesses. 

Ranney. — First  Fish  of  the  Season. 

Schuessele. — The  Iron-worker. 

Stuart. — Portrait  of  Washington,  life 
size. 

Sully. — Portrait  of  Philip  II.  of  Spain. 

Vanderlyn. — Ariadne  (the  large  pict- 
ure, formerly  Mr.  Durand’s). 

West. — Christ  Rejedled  (20  ft.  6 in.  x 15 
ft.  ; Death  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


Appendix. 


631 


BALTIMORE. 

ROBERT  GILMORE— ESTATE  OF. 

Inman.-—  Boys  at  Play ; Portrait  of  I Weir. — Rebecca  (Ivanhoe). 
Mr.  G.  I 


WILLIAM  GILMORE. 
Leslie. — Scene  from  Macbeth. 


OWEN  A.  GILL. 

Cropsey. — Landscape.  Rothermel. — Ruth  and  Naomi. 

Doughty. — Landscape. 


J.  P.  KENNEDY. 
Leslie. — Katharine  the  Shrew. 


Stuart. — W ashington. 


JOHN  B.  MORRIS. 

I Sully. — Two  Portraits. 


PEABODY  INSTITUTE. 

Read,  T.  B. — Portrait  of  George  Peabody. 


E.  L.  ROGERS. 
Cole. — Primitive  Man. 


WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

W.  W.  CORCORAN. 


Besson,  O. — Little  Falls  of  Potomac. 
Boggs , W.  R. — View  on  Catskills. 
Browne,  W. — Return  from  Market. 
Cole , T. — Departure  and  Return. 
Crunch , C.  P. — Pope’s  Palace. 

Cropsey. — W ashington’s  Head-quar- 

ters on  the  Hudson. 

Doughty , T. — Autumn  on  the  Hudson. 


Eastman  (Seth). — Ball-playing  among 
Indians. 

Fisher,  A. — Emigration  of  Indians. 
Galt. — Bacchante  (Bust). 

Gignoux. — Lake  Scene  ; Winter  Scene. 
Huntington. — Mercy’s  Dream. 

Innes  ( George ). — Landscape. 

Kensett. — Mount  Washington. 


632 


American  Artist  Life. 


Lang. — N orma. 

Lanman  ( Charles ). — Lake  George. 
Leutze. — Milton  and  Cromwell ; Ama- 
zon and  her  Children. 

McLeod. — Mount  Vernon. 

Meade. — Statuette. 


Oddie , IV.  M. — Lake  near  Lenory. 
Powers. — Greek  Slave. 

Rossiter. — Blonde  and  Brunette  ; Re- 
becca. 

Ranney. — Duck  Shooting. 

Washington. — Huguenot’s  Daughter. 


J.  C.  McGUIRE. 


Baker  ( Geo.  A.). — Spring. 

Bingham. — Old  Field  Horse. 

Birch. — Landscape,  Schuylkill  River. 
Bonjield.  — Marine  View,  Delaware 
Bay. 

Chapman , J.  G. — The  Last  Arrow  ; 

Childhood,  after  Lawrence. 

Cole  ( Thomas ). — Landscape. 

Darley. — Drovers,  Landscape  with  Cat- 
tle. 

DelattrL — Groups  of  Heads  of  Ani- 
mals ; Donkey. 

Delessard. — The  Wanderers. 

Doughty.  — Landscape,  with  water  ; 
Two  Landscapes. 

Durand , A.  B. — Landscape,  Raritan 
Canal. 

Edmonds. — Organ-grinder. 

Elliott , C.  L. — Portraits  of  Col.  Mc- 
Kenney,  Wm.  Cullen  Bryant ; 
Portrait  of  a Gentleman. 
Ehninger. — “ Ars  Celare  Artem.” 
Fisher  ( Alvin ).  — Landscape,  with 
Cattle  ; Interior  of  Barn,  with 
Cattle. 

Hamilton. — Three  Marine  Views. 
Hinckley.  — Large  Landscape,  with 
Cattle. 

Huntington. — Landscape,  view  of 

Prattsville. 

Johnson , D. — Landscape. 

Johnson  ( Eastman ). — Portrait  of  a 
Lady. 

Kensett , J.  F. — Paradise  Rocks,  near 
Newport. 

Lambdin. — Mother. 

Lang  ( Louis ).  — Cottage  of  H.  K. 
Brown,  Newburgh,  N.  Y.,  with 
Portraits. 

Mayer , F. — A Sou’wester. 


Mignot. — Tropical  Scenery. 

Moran,  E. — Marine  View  off  St. 
John’s,  New  Brunswick. 

Rindisbacker. — Indian  War  Dance,  17 
full-length  figures,  Portraits. 

Rothermel. — Palmer’s  Return. 

Shaw.  — Landscape,  Shower  in  the 
Mountains  ; Landscape,  Gipsies. 

Stearns. — Fishing  Party,  Portraits  of 
Elliott,  Clarke,  and  Cozzens. 

Tait. — Quail,  with  young  brood. 

Thornton,  Dr. — Head  of  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson. 

Vanderlyn. — Allegorical,  after  Rubens. 

Washington  ( William ). — Columbus  in 
Prison  ; Hamlet. 

Weber  (Paid) — Landscape,  Wissahic- 
con  Valley. 

Wertmuller. — Danae  ; Female  Head. 

Wilkinson. — Landscape. 

Wood  ( Jos.). — Portrait  of  a Gentleman, 
miniature. 

SUBJECTS  IN  MARBLE,  BRONZE,  ETC. 

Ball. — Statuette  of  Daniel  Webster. 

Cerachi. — Marble  Bust  of  James  Madi- 
son, 1792,  alto-relievo. 

Kneeland. — Trotting  Horse,  basso-re- 
lievo. 

Rhinehart. — Bust  of  a Gentleman, 
Marble. 

Ward  ( Quincy ). — Indian  Hunter  and 
Dog,  Bronze. 

Eckstein. — Bust  of  Washington,  Mar- 
ble, 1796. 

Also,  about  300  original  drawings, 
made  during  the  last  fifty  years  by 
the  most  noted  American  artists. 


R.  S.  CHILTON,  Esq. 


Besson,  0. — Street  View,  water-color. 
Blauvelt. — “ Warming  up.” 

Boughton.  — Three  Landscapes,  Au- 
tumn, Twilight. 

Brent,  H.  J. — Two  Landscapes. 
Casilear. — Landscape. 


Colman,  S. — Lake  George. 

Cropsey. — Sketch. 

Elliott,  C.  L. — Head  of  a Roman  Girl ; 

Three  Portraits. 

Ellis,  S. — Bas-relief. 

Gignoux,R. — Sunset;  The  Forge. 


Appendix. 


<533 


Hennessey,  J. — The  Flower  Girl. 
Kensett. — Two  Landscapes. 

Leutze. — Seventy-six  ; Death  of  Boz- 
zaris,  Indian  ink  ; Portrait. 
Moran,  E . — Staten  Island. 

Officer,  T.  S. — Head  of  a Girl. 


Palmer. — Sappho,  alto-relievo. 

Powers. — Proserpine  ; Greek  Slave 
(head). 

Tait. — Quail  and  Young. 

Weber  ( Paul ). — On  the  Wissahiccon. 
Wall. — Bread  Mountain,  Ireland. 


G.  W.  RIGGS,  Esq. 


Beard. — The  Naughty  Cub. 

Bierstadt. — Italian  Landscape. 

Brown,  J.  G. — Boy  (Don’t  want  to  go). 
Casilear. — Two  Landscapes. 

Hennessy . — Girl  Gathering  Apples. 
Hubbard. — Landscape. 

Johnson,  E. — Savoyard  Boy  ; Mt.  Ver- 
non Kitchen ; Four  Crayon  Por- 
traits. 

Kellogg. — Greek  Philosopher  ; Greek 
Girl ; Moor. 


Kensett. — Ullswater. 

Lang. — Girl  Gathering  Lilies. 

Leutze. — Venetian  Maskers  ; Queen 
Victoria ; Portrait. 

Mayer,  F.  A. — The  Lost  Letter ; The 
Cavalier. 

McEntee. — Two  Landscapes. 

Peale. — Song  of  the  Shirt. 

Stuart  ( Gilbert). — Head,  unfinished. 
Suydam. — Conway  Meadows. 


The  few  American  works  in  the  Belmont,  Aspinwall,  and  Stewart  collections  are  mentioned  under 
the  respective  artists. 

%*  A complete  Catalogue  of  American  works  of  Art  is  in  preparation,  and  owners  of  pictures  and 
statues  by  native  artists  will  oblige  the  Publisher  by  sending  him  a list  of  the  subjects,  names  of 
artists,  etc.  Address  G.  P.  PUTNAM  & SON,  661  Broadway. 


INDEX. 


Abbott,  Judge,  owner,  ioo. 

Abeel  family,  owners,  ioo. 

Academy  of  Design,  New  York, 
12,  14,  16,  19  (description), 
no,  148,  167,  456,  622  (list) 

Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  New 
York,  15. 

Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  Phila- 
delphia, 15,  62,  66,  101,  120, 
142,  160,  181,  507,  628  (list). 

Adams,  Alvin,  owner,  393. 

Adams,  Miss,  568. 

Agate,  Frederick  S.,  399. 

Aiken,  Governor,  owner,  61 1. 

Akers,  Benjamin  Paul,  612,  619. 

Albany,  New  York,  68,  13 1,  302, 
331,  400. 

Albert,  Augustus  C.,  owner, 
593- 

Albert,  Mrs.,  owner,  599. 

Alexander,  Cosmo,  44,  108. 

Alexander,  Francis,  67,  586. 

Allston,  Washington,  8,  9,  125, 
136,  157,  163,  250,  352,  353, 
406,  608. 

Ames,  Ezra,  68. 

Ames,  Joseph,  439. 

Ames,  Mrs.,  603. 

Annapolis,  Md.,  439. 

Annesley,  L.,  owner,  434. 

Anthon,  Rev.  Dr.,  owner,  464. 

Appleton,  Mrs.  N.,  owner,  72. 

Appleton,  Nathan,  owner,  143. 

Appleton,  Samuel,  owner,  602. 

Appleton,  William  H.,  owner, 
535- 

Art-Unions,  17. 

Aspinwall,  W.  H.,  owner,  290, 
410. 

Astor,  W.  B.,  owner,  290,  484. 

Audubon,  John  James,  494. 

Augero,  479. 

Augur,  Hezekiah,  573. 

Auroy,  Monsieur,  owner,  484. 

Avery,  S.  P.,  owner,  67. 

Baker,  George  A.,  489. 

Ball,  Thomas,  578. 

Balling,  493. 

Baltimore  Historical  Society, 
109. 

Barbee,  Mr.,  599. 

Barrow,  479,  494. 

Bartholomew,  Edward  Shef- 
field, 609-6x2. 

Barry,  431. 

Beard,  James  H.,  436,  494. 

Beard,  William  H.,  498-301. 

Beecher,  H.  W.,  owner,  470, 
53i- 

Beekman,  James  W.,  owner, 
434- 

Bell,  Edward  R.,  owner,  484. 


Bellows,  Albert  F.,  486,  566. 
Belmont,  August,  owner,  456, 
470,  486,  509. 

Bembridge,  Henry,  8,  43,  140. 
Benson,  Eugene,  486. 

Bethune,  Dr.,  quoted,  47. 
Bierstadt,  Albert,  387-397. 
Bierstadt,  Miss,  owner,  393. 
Bigelow,  E.,  owTner,  474. 
Bingham,  494. 

Birch,  Thomas,  531. 

Bishop,  479. 

Bispham,  497. 

Blackburn,  10,  45. 

Blauvelt,  Mr.,  486. 

Blodgett,  W.  T.,  owner,  343,  384, 
436,  466,  470,  473,  623  (list). 
Bonfield,  R.,  551. 

Booth,  Edwin,  owner,  525,  536. 
Boston,  13,  72,  439,  581,  593,  595. 
Boston  Athenaeum,  13,  xoi,  105, 
109,  no,  in,  1 18,  1 19,  144, 
221,  230,  242.  290,  297,  299, 
3i3.  393,  507 , 588,  593,  599, 
627  (list). 

Boston  Horticultural  Hall,  600. 
Boston  Museum,  160,  578. 
Boston  Music  Hall,  313. 

Boston  Public  Library,  579,  600. 
Boughton,  George  H.,  454-458. 
Bowdoin,  George,  owner,  94. 
Bowler  family,  owners,  73. 
Bowne,  Obadiah,  owner,  534. 
Brackett,  Walter  M.,  479,  497. 
Brackett,  Edwin  E.,  599. 
Bradford,  William,  552-556. 
Brandt,  479. 

Brevoort,  Carson,  owner,  46,  242. 
Brevoort,  J.  R.,  566. 

Brewster,  James,  patron,  407. 
Bridgman,  479. 

Bridgman,  William  H.,  owner, 
484. 

Bristed,  C.  A.,  owner,  464. 
Bristol,  John  Bunyan,  557. 
Bronson,  T.  P.,  owner,  484. 
Brooks,  Sidney,  owner,  290. 
Brooklyn,  L.  I.,  13,  576. 
Brooklyn  Art  Academy,  509, 
557- 

Brooklyn  Institute,  552. 

Brooks,  Sidney,  owner,  423,  449. 
Brown,  D.  L.,  owner,  57. 
Brown,  George  L.,  22,  346-354- 
Brown,  Henry  Kirke,  576. 
Brown,  J.  G.,  487. 

Brown,  John  Henry,  479. 
Brown,  Matthew,  45. 

Brown,  Walter,  487,  545. 
Browne,  R.  H.,  owner,  545. 
Browning,  Mrs.,  quoted,  285, 
286,  287. 


Bryan,  Thomas  J.,  collector,  12, 
438. 

Bryant,  W.  C.,  quoted,  19. 
Buffalo  Academy  of  Fine  Arts, 
393- 

Bull,  Col.,  owner,  47. 

Bull,  B.  W.,  owner,  439. 

Bunker  Hill,  251,  589. 

Bunson,  Theodore,  owner,  516, 
Bunt,  567. 

Burling,  479. 

Burr,  Col.,  patron,  126. 

Burnap,  Mrs.,  owner,  72. 
Burnett,  R.  W.,  owner,  516. 
Butler,  492. 

Butler,  Cyrus,  owner,  545,  623. 
Byrd,  Col.,  owner,  43. 

Cafferty,  479. 

Caldwell,  S.  B.,  owner,  501. 
Cannon,  567. 

Capitol,  Washington,  13,  83, 
260,  310,  576. 

Carey,  Henry  C.,  owner,  109, 
160,  181,  242,  299,  331,  343, 
443,  629  (list). 

Carmuche,  479. 

Carpenter,  Francis  B.,  477. 
Carter,  494. 

Carter,  D.  M.,  479. 

Casilear,  J.  W.,  521. 

Catlin,  George,  423,  494. 
Catskill  Mountains,  223,  374. 
Central  Park,  New  York,  12, 
3i3,  595,  603,  622. 

Century  Club,  New  York,  195, 
5i3-  . . 

Ceracchi,  Giuseppe,  10,  571. 
Champney,  567. 

Channing,  Dr.,  quoted,  123. 
Chapman,  John  Gadsby,  216- 
222. 

Charleston,  S.  C.,  61,  289,  584. 
Cheney,  Seth,  429. 

Chilton,  R.  S.,  owner,  632  (list). 
Chittick,  Mr.,  owner,  545. 
Chubb,  479. 

Church,  Frederick  Edwin,  18, 
370-386,  564,  609,  61 1. 

City  Hall,  New  York,  57,  66, 
94,  131,  160,  168,  21 1,  243, 
297,  302,  331,.  423,  432,  459, 
466,  477,  622  (list). 

Claghorn,  S.  L.,  owner,  414, 
459,  466,  470,  538,  630  (list). 
Clark,  Alvan,  479. 

Clarke,  Edward,  owner,  439. 
Clarke,  Sarah,  quoted,  138. 
Clevenger,  Shobal  Vail,  605- 
609. 

Coggdell,  John  S.,  573. 
Cogswell,  494. 

Cogswell,  J.  G.,  owner,  201. 


636 


Index. 


Coit,  Henry  A.,  owner,  21  x. 
Cole,  J.  F.,  566. 

Cole,  Thomas,  10,  223-232,  373. 
Coleman,  C.  C.,  458. 

Coles,  Gov.  E.,  owner,  116. 
Collins,  479. 

Coleman,  Samuel,  559. 

Colt,  Mrs.,  owner,  385. 

Colyer,  494. 

Comegys,  494. 

Condidt,  J.  Elliot,  owner,  438. 
Congdon,  Mr.,  owner,  441. 
Conyer,  Mortimer,  owner,  434. 
Connolly,  599. 

Cook,  479. 

Cooke,  Jay,  owner,  517. 

Cooper,  J.  Fenimore,  patron, 
15,  232,  256,  257. 

Cooper  Institute,  New  York,  12, 
13>  593- 

Copeland,  491. 

Copley,  John  Singleton,  8,  71- 
81. 

Coram,  Thomas,  45. 

Corcoran,  W.  W.,  owner,  631 
(list). 

Cortelyou,  H.  L.,  owner,  534. 
Covell,  479. 

Cozzens,  A.  M.,  owner,  62,  195, 
230,  243,  331,  343,  384,  410, 
421,  443,  456,  466, _ 470,  489, 
507,  513,  517,  623  (list). 
Cranch,  Christopher  Pearse,  461. 
Crawford,  Thomas,  10,  306-320. 
Cromwell,  J.  B.,  owner,  517. 
Cropsey,  Jasper  Francis,  532- 
54°- 

Crosby,  N.  H.,  owner,  393. 
Crow,  Mr.,  owner,  602. 
Cummings,  Thomas  S.,  16,  479. 
Curtis,  552. 

Cushing,  R.  M.,  owner,  484. 
Cushman,  Charlotte,  patron, 
601,  603. 

Cutts,  Judge,  owner,  45. 
Dahlgren,  Mrs.,  owner,  400. 
Dana,  William  P.  W.,  483-485, 
55r- 

Darley,  Felix  O.  C.,  471-476. 
Dartmouth  College,  43. 
Davidson,  Gilbert,  owner,  434. 
Day,  Henry,  owner,  439. 

Deas,  Charles,  424-429. 

De  Haas,  F.  H.,  551,  552. 
Delano,  F.  H.,  owner,  201. 
Delaroche,  Paul,  508. 

Derby  family,  Salem,  73. 
Dering,  Dr.  Nicol,  45. 

Dering,  Dr.  Nicholas,  owner, 
628. 

Detmold,  C.  E.,  owner,  531. 

De  Veaux,  68. 

Dewey,  Dr.,  quoted,  285. 
Dexter,  Andrew,  owner,  628. 
Dexter,  Henry,  586-589. 

Dix,  Charles  Temple,  552. 

Dix,  Gen.  John  A.,  owner,  418, 
470. 

Dixey,  John,  571. 

Dixwell  family,  Boston,  73. 
Dolph,  479,  567. 

Dorr,  Sullivan,  owner,  109. 
Doughty,  Thomas,  506. 
Doughty,  Col.  William,  owner, 
507- 

Draper,  Simeon,  owner,  438. 
Duchd,  45. 

Duffy,  479. 

Duggan,  Paul,  431. 


Dunlap,  William,  8,  54. 

Durand  (1772),  45. 

Durand,  Asher  Brown,  9,  128, 
187-196. 

Duyckinck,  Evert  A.,  owner, 
299. 

Earle,  Augustus,  54. 

Earle,  T.,  8,  54. 

Eaton,  Dorman,  owner,  557. 
Edmonds,  John  W.,  411-414. 
Edouart,  494. 

Ehninger,  John  W.,  461-464. 
Eliot,  S.  A.,  owner,  143. 
Ellesmere,  Earl  of,  owner,  510. 
Elliott,  Charles  Loring,  300- 
305. 

Elliott,  Dr.  George  T.,  owner, 
484. 

Embury,  Abraham,  owner,  438. 
Emoray,  Mr.,  owner,  196. 
Erving,  Mrs.,  owner,  43,  45,  72, 
109. 

Eustis,  Madame,  owner,  72. 
Evans,  S.  C.,  owner,  458,  545. 
Everett,  Edward,  quoted,  259, 
285. 

Faber,  Mr.,  owner,  545. 
Falconer,  James  M.,  owner,  57, 
hi,  228,  539. 

Fales,  John,  owner,  516. 

Fales,  Samuel  B.,  owner,  569, 
630  (list). 

Faneuil  Hall,  Boston,  57,  400. 
Farrar,  Henry,  568. 

Feke,  Robert,  8,  47. 

Ferguson,  479. 

Fern,  479. 

F esch  gallery,  20. 

Field,  45. 

Field,  John  W.,  owner,  343, 
480,  486,  507,  630  (list). 

Fink,  Frederick,  404. 

Fish,  479. 

Fish,  Hamilton,  owner,  313. 
Fisher,  Alvan,  67. 

Fisher,  G.  Francis,  owner,  47. 
Flagg,  George  W.,  404-408. 
Flagg,  Jared  B.,  408. 

Foley,  Margaret,  603. 

Forbes,  Edwin,  491. 

Forrester,  Mrs.,  owner,  no. 
Fowler,  William,  owner,  439. 
Francis,  Dr.,  quoted,  91. 
Franklin,  Dr.,  quoted,  14. 
Fraser,  Charles,  8,  61,  140. 
Frazee,  John,  572. 

Freeman,  James  E.,  414-418, 
604. 

Freeman,  Mrs.  J.  E.,  604. 
Fremont,  J.  C.,  owner,  393. 
Frothingham,  James,  61. 

Fulton,  Robert,  8,  54,  55. 
Furness,  James  T.,  owner,  343. 
Furness,  William  Henry,  Jr. 
479-482. 

Gambadella,  479. 

Gandy,  Shepard,  owner,  439, 
456-  . 

Gay,  Wmckworth  Allan,  562. 
Genin,  Sylvester,  493. 

Gerry,  566. 

Gibbs,  Mrs.  Laura,  owner,  94. 
Gibbs,  Prof.  Wolcott,  owner, 
109. 

Gibson,  Mrs.  C.  M.,  owner, 
531,  598- 

Gifford,  Sanford  R.,  524-527, 
545.  55i- 

Gifford,  R.  Swain,  567. 


Gignoux,  Francois  Regis,  507- 
510. 

Gilbert,  B.  W.,  owner,  484. 

Gill,  Owen  A.,  owner,  631. 
Gilmore,  William,  owner,  181, 
631. 

Gilmore,  Robert,  owner,  21 1, 
631,  408. 

Glass,  James  W.,  421-423. 
Gooch,  Sir  Daniel,  owner,  536. 
Gordon,  Robert,  owner,  517. 
Gould,  492. 

Gould,  Charles,  owner,  439, 
509- 

Gould,  Thomas,  600. 

Goupil  & Co.,  dealers,  21. 
Graham,  J.  Lorimer,  owner, 
331- 

Gray,  Henry  Peters,  442-446. 
Green,  Dr.  Joshua,  owner,  72. 
Greene,  478. 

Greenough,  Horatio,  xo,  84, 
188,  247-275. 

Greenough,  John,  479. 
Greenough,  Richard  S.,  593. 
Greatorex,  Mrs.,  494. 

Grinnell,  Moses  PL,  owner, 
536. 

Griswold,  C.  C.,  561. 

Groesbeck,  William  and  John, 
owners,  516. 

Guy,  Mr.,  491. 

Habicht,  C.  E.,  owner,  557. 
Hall,  George  H.,  482. 

Hall,  E.  W.,  532,  567. 

Hall,  Mrs.,  479. 

Hallett,  S.,  owner,  509. 
Hamilton,  James,  565. 

Hancock  family,  owners,  72. 
Handley,  Montague,  599. 
Harding,  Chester,  63,  65. 
Harrison,  Joseph,  owner,  54, 
101,  120,  128,  435,  437,  536, 
551,  61 1,  630  (list). 

Hart,  James  M.,  547,  595. 

Hart,  Joel  T.,  573. 

Hart,  Robert,  574. 

Hart,  William,  546,  549. 
Hartford,  Ct.,  13,  610.  (See 
Wadsworth  Gallery.) 

Harvard  College  (University), 
42>  72>  94)  io9-  589.  600. 
Haverhill,  Mass.,  73. 

Haseltine,  Henry  J.,  598. 
Haseltine,  William  S.,  owner, 
484.556.  . 

Hays,  William,  495. 

Hazlitt,  John,  54. 

Heade,  J.  M.,  542. 

Healy,  George  Peter  Alexan- 
der, 399. 

Hennessy,  W.  J.,  453. 

Henry,  566. 

Henry.  Col.,  599. 

Henry,  Mrs.,  owner,  593. 
Herring,  296,  479. 

Hesselius,  44. 

Hicks,  Thomas,  463. 

Hill,  566. 

Hill,  S.  W.,  568. 

Hilton,  Judge,  owner,  393. 
Hinckley,  494,  495. 

Hoe,  Robert  M.,  owner,  626, 
545.  623  (list). 

Holbrook,  Mrs.,  owner,  438. 
Holyoke,  494. 

Homer,  Winslow,  18,  491. 

Hone,  Philip,  owner,  181,211. 
Hooper,  Samuel,  owner,  602. 


Index. 


637 


Hope,  566. 

Hopkinson  family,  owner,  46. 
Hoppin,  W.  J.,  owner,  410. 
Hoppin,  Thomas  F.,  William 
J.,  and  Augustus,  485. 
Hosmer,  Harriet,  601. 
Hotchkiss,  569. 

Houdon,  572. 

Howard,  C.  T.,  owner,  560. 
Howe,  E.  L.,  owner,  492. 

Hoyt,  478. 

Hubbard,  R.  W.,  18,  522. 

Hunt,  Ward,  owner,  94,  109. 
Hunt,  Ward,  owner,  168,  628. 
Hunt,  William  Morris,  447-450. 
Huntington,  Daniel,  18,  321- 
332. 

Independence  Hall,  Philadel- 
phia, 53,  66,  160,  243,  629 
(list). 

Ingersoll,  Charles,  owner,  72. 
Ingham,  C.  C.,  69. 

Inman,  Henry,  10,  233-246. 
Inman,  J.  O’B.,  492. 

Inness,  George,  527-532. 

Irving,  Washington,  quoted, 
153,  223. 

Irving,  494,  495. 

Ives,  C.  B.,  582. 

Jackson,  John,  593. 

James,  G.  P.  R.,  quoted,  308. 
Jameson,  567. 

Jarves,  J.  J.,  collector,  11. 
Jarvis,  John  Wesley,  8,  57-61, 
203,  235. 

Jarvis,  C.,  494. 

Jay,  John,  owner,  109. 

Jessup,  Mr.,  owner,  545. 

Jewett,  William,  67. 

Jocelyn,  Nathaniel,  399. 
Johnson,  D.,  479. 

Johnson,  Eastman,  18,  466-471. 
Johnston,  566. 

Johnston,  J.  Taylor,  owner,  65, 
68,  143,  196,  21 1,  230,  384,  41 1, 
414,  444,  446,  450,  456,  470, 
501,  507,  525,  545,  557,  560, 

654  Gist). 

Jouet,  Matthew,  68. 

Kaye,  James  Me,  owner,  517. 
Kearny,  Gen.,  owner,  438. 
Kellogg,  Miner  K.,  423. 
Kemble,  Gouverneur,  owner, 
195,  572. 

Kennard,  T.  W.,  owner,  393. 
Kennedy,  John  P.,  owner,  181. 
Kensett,  John  F.,  18,  492,  510- 
514- 

Key,  of  Baltimore,  566. 

Kidder,  H.  P.,  owner,  484. 
King,  Charles  B.,  67. 

King,  Dr.  David,  owner,  449. 
King,  John  A.,  599. 

Kinney,  B.  H.,  599. 

Kip,  Bishop,  owner,  129. 
Kneeland,  599. 

Knower,  Miss  Jane,  owner,  418. 
Kuntze,  599. 

Lafarge,  John,  489. 

Lambdin,  George  C.,  450. 
Landor,  Miss,  603. 

Lang,  Louis,  434. 

Lansing,  Col.  Arthur  B.,  owner, 
438. 

Latilla,  Eugenio,  418-420. 
Latrobe,  J.  B.,  owner,  410. 
Laurent,  494. 

Laurie,  567. 

Lawrence,  479. 


Lawrence,  Abbott,  owner,  484. 

Lawrie,  566. 

Lazarus,  478. 

Le  Clear,  Thomas,  440-442. 

Lee,  Mrs.,  owner,  438. 

Lee,  Mrs.  George,  owner,  602. 

Lee,  Thomas,  patron,  594. 

Leeds  & Co.,  auctioneers,  20. 

Lenox,  James,  owner,  72,  94, 
109,  131,  181,  195,  221,  230, 
240,  290,  331,  384,  393,  421, 
513,  624  (list). 

Leupp,  C.  M.,  owner,  576. 

Leutze,  Emmanuel,  333-345. 

Leslie,  Charles  Robert,  166, 
171-186,  204. 

Lewis,  566. 

Lewis,  E.  D.,  569. 

Lewis,  Edmonia,  603. 

Lewis,  Mrs.,  owner,  too. 

Lewis,  W.  D.,  owner,  120. 

Livingston,  Mrs.  Cambridge, 
owner,  484. 

Lockwood,  Le  Grand,  owner, 
393)  59s- 

Longworth,  Nicholas,  patron, 


15,  597- 

Longworth,  Joseph,  owner,  101, 
290,  516,  531. 

Loop,  478. 

Lord,  J.  Couper,  owner,  438. 
Loring,  Dr.,  owner,  73. 
Louisville,  Ky.,  599. 

Lowber,  E.  J.,  owner,  557. 
Lowell,  Mass.,  Hall  of,  400. 
Lowrie,  567. 

Ludington,  C.  H.,  owner,  484. 
Ludington,  C.  H.,  patron,  595. 
Ludlow,  Thomas  W.,  owner,  73. 
Luqueer,  Mrs.,  owner,  109. 
McDonald,  599. 

McDonald,  Miss,  568. 
McDonald,  William,  owner, 


McEntee,  Jervis,  543-546. 
McEwan,  William,  532. 
McGuire,  Mr.,  owner,  221,  303, 

464,  473>  495>  582,  592.  599, 
632  (list). 

McHenry,  James,  owner,  393, 
536. 

McKean,  D.  Pratt,  owner,  53. 
McKean,  H.  Pratt,  owner,  242. 
McMuririe,  Mr.,  owner,  143, 
242. 

McVickars,  G.  R.,  owner,  526. 
Malbone,  Edward  G.,  9,  61, 
121-125,  139. 

Manning,  R.  M.,  owner,  526. 
Marquand,  H.  G.,  owner,  517. 
Marshall,  479. 

Martin,  46,  566. 

Mason,  567. 

Massachusetts  Historical  So- 
ciety, 42,  56,  109,  627  (list). 
Matteson,  Tompkins,  432-434. 
Maverick,  Peter,  188. 

May,  Edward  Harrison,  501- 
5°4- 

Mayer,  Constance,  493. 

Meade,  Larkin  G.,  597. 

Melbye,  567. 

Melhekars,  George  R.,  owner, 
i95- 

Meyer,  F.  A.,  493. 

Michigan,  592. 

Mignot,  Louis  R.,  563. 

Miller,  479. 

Miller,  Edmund,  owner,  418. 


Miller,  Dr.  S.L  , owner,  73. 
Miller,  William,  599. 

Millmore,  Martin,  600. 

Mills,  Clark,  583-586. 

Missouri,  602. 

Moller,  William,  owner,  393. 
Montpelier,  Vt.,  597. 

Moore,  566,  567,  568. 

Moran,  566,  567. 

Moran,  Edward  and  Peter,  569. 
Moran,  Thomas,  568. 

Morgan,  479. 

Morgan,  E.  D.,  owner,  331, 
534- 

Morris,  494. 

Morris,  John  B.,  owner,  631. 
Morse,  S.  F.  B.,  r6,  163-170. 
Mount,  William  Sidney,  227, 
420-423. 

Mount  Auburn,  310,  313,  585, 
593,  599- 

Mozier,  Joseph,  590. 

Murray,  J.  B.,  owner,  450,  484. 
Murray,  John  R.,  owner,  439. 
Murray,  Miss  C.,  owner,  484. 
Murray,  Mrs.,  567. 

Mygate,  Henry  M.,  owner,  434. 
Nast,  Thomas,  489. 

Neagle,  John,  65,  in. 

Nehlig,  492. 

Newman,  Henry,  568. 

Newport,  R.  I.,  122.  (See  Red- 
wood Library.) 

Newton,  Gilbert  Stuart,  9,  65, 

108. 

New  York,  11,  575.  (SeeAcad- 
emy  of  Design,  Central  Park, 
City  Hall,  etc.) 

New  York  Apollo  Association, 
Sketch  Club,  and  Art  Union, 
T7-  . 

New  York  Historical  Society, 
12,  50  (note),  53,  57,  58,  62, 
66,  73,  94,  101,  195,  201,  230, 
299.  3i3»  33 1 > ,4°4>  466,  491, 
495>  576,  621  (list). 

Nichols,  E.  W.,  479. 

Nichols,  Mrs.,  owner,  45. 
Noble,  488. 

Noyes,  W.  Curtis,  owner,  331. 
Oddie,  567. 

Oertel,  494. 

Officer,  479. 

Ogilvie,  494. 

Oliver,  Fitch  E.,  owner,  42,  73. 
Olyphant,  R.  M.,  owner  ,196, 
23°>  33i,  438,  445)  446,  450) 
456,  464,  470,  513,  517,  522, 
523,  525)  557.  625  (list). 
Ordway,  567. 

Osborne,  W.  H.,  owner,  331, 

384-  ^ „ 

Osgood,  S.  S.,  479. 

Otis,  Bass,  57. 

“ Paff,  old,”  picture  dealer,  20. 
Page,  William,  295-299,  532. 
Pallison,  567. 

Palmer,  Erastus  D.,  355-369. 
Parkman,  Rev.  John,  owner, 

109. 

Parkman,  567. 

Parmlee,  Dr.,  owner,  242. 
Peabody  Institute,  Baltimore, 
631. 

Peale,  Charles  Wilson,  8,  14, 
50-54- 

Peale,  James,  45. 

Peale,  John  T.,  68. 

Peale,  Rembrandt,  62. 


638 


Index . 


Peale’s  Museum,  15. 

Peckham,  567. 

Peele,  494. 

Pennsylvania  Hospital,  101. 

Percival,  J.  G.,  quoted,  168. 

Perkins,  C,  C.,  owner,  418. 

Perkins,  Col.  T.  H.,  owner, 
143- 

Perry,  494. 

Peterson,  C.  J.,  owner,  486, 
57.8- 

Petticolas,  Edward,  65,  68. 

Philadelphia,  44,  109.  (See 

Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  Inde- 
pendence Hall,  etc.) 

Philadelphia  Public  Library, 
101. 

Phillips,  John,  476. 

Pickering,  Henry,  544. 

Pierrepont,  Henry  E.,  owner, 

109,  120. 

Pinchot,  J.  W.,  owner,  517, 
545)  595- 

Pine,  Robert  Edge,  10,  46, 

14c. 

Polke,  45. 

Pope,  478. 

Powell,  Samuel,  owner,  49. 

Powell,  William  H.,  458. 

Powell  family,  owners,  49. 

Powers,  Hiram,  276-294. 

Pratt,  8,  494. 

Pratt,  E.,  owner,  61 1. 

Pratt,  Miss  Mary,  owner,  no. 

Pratt,  Matthew,  48. 

Prentice,  J.  H.,  owner,  242. 

Preston,  John  and  W.  C.,  pa- 
trons, 584. 

Preston,  W.  F.,  owner,  290. 

Providence,  R.  I.,  592. 

Ramage,  45. 

Ranney,  William  S.,  431. 

Ransom,  Alexander,  561. 

Read,  J.  Meredith,  owner,  44, 
100. 

Read,  Thomas  Buchanan,  460. 

Ream,  Miss  Vinnie,  605. 

Red  Jacket,  212. 

Redwood  Library,  47,  48,  109. 

Reed,  Luman,  patron,  15,  228, 
230,  406. 

Revere,  Paul,  8. 

Rhinehardt,  William  H.,  592. 

Rhode  Island,  7,  576. 

Rice,  Mr.,  owner,  545. 

Richards,  W.  T.,  524. 

Richards,  T.  Addison,  524. 

Richardson,  567. 

Richmond,  Va.,  3x3,  591. 

Riggs,  G.  W.,  owner,  no,  343, 
393)  423)  47°)  493,  5°i,  512, 
522,  523,  545,  633  (list.) 

Rimmer,  Dr.,  13,  593. 

Robbins,  567. 

Robbins  family,  Dorchester, 

1 10. 

Roberts,  Marshall  O.,  owner, 
160,  196,  211,  221,  230,  331, 
343,  384,  393,  4io,  421,  432, 
435,  439,  443,  45°,  456,  459, 
466,  470,  478,  487,  489,  491, 
495,  496,  5i3,  522,  525,  536, 
538,  55i,  564,  625  (list). 

Robertson,  Alexander,  10,  46, 

67. 

Robins,  Ellen,  566. 

Rogers,  E.  L.,  owner,  230,  631. 

Rogers,  John,  595,  597. 

Rogers,  Randolph,  591. 


Rogers  family,  owners,  73. 
Ropes,  567. 

Rossiter,  Thomas  P.,  435. 
Rotch,  B.  S.,  owner,  484. 
Rothermel,  Peter  F.,  437. 
Rothschild,  Baron,  owner,  509. 
Rowley  family,  owners,  526. 
Rouse,  431. 

Roxbury,  Mass.,  600. 

Ruggles,  Dr.  Edward,  568. 
Rush,  William,  572. 

Rutherford,  494. 

Ryder,  479. 

St.  Memim,  46. 

Salisbury,  Stephen,  owner,  313. 
Salmon,  551. 

Saltonstall,  Leverett,  owner,  43. 
Sanford,  J.  T.,  owner,  95,  421. 
Sargent,  Col.  Henry,  56. 
Sargent,  Turner,  owner,  600. 
Satterlee,  479. 

Satterlee,  Mr,,  owner,  418. 
Savage,  Edward,  45. 
Scarborough,  W.  W.,  owner, 
5l6- 

Scott,  Julian,  4*93. 

Sears,  David,  owner,  143. 

Sears,  J.  Newton,  598. 
Sharpless,  10,  46. 

Shattuck,  A.  D.,  560. 

Shaw,  567. 

Shaw,  Francis  G.,  owner,  299. 
Shegogue,  J.  H.,  479. 

Sheldon,  Henry,  owner,  438. 
Shoenberger,  George  K.,  owner, 
516. 

Shumway,  479. 

Simmons,  Franklin,  599. 
Smilies,  Jas.,  Jas.  D.,  G.  H., 
567- 

Smith,  John  R.,  525. 

Smith,  Winthrop  B.,  owner,  516, 
53'7- 

Smith,  William  Russell,  5x8- 
5?1- 

Smith,  Xanthus,  521. 
Smithsonian  Institute,  400. 
Smybert,  John,  7,  41-43,  140. 
Sommers,  566. 

Sontag,  W.  L.,  566. 

South  Carolina,  61. 

Southmeyd,  J.  W.,  owner,  120. 
Spencer,  Capt.,  owner,  576. 
Spencer,  Mrs.,  494. 

Sprague,  Charles,  owner,  490. 
Staigg,  Richard  M.,  445-447, 
551- 

Stearns,  J.  B.,  478. 

Stebbins,  Emma,  602. 

Stebbins,  H.  G.,  owner,  464. 
Stephenson,  George  L.,  owner, 
185. 

Stephenson,  G.  L.,  owner,  560. 
Stephenson,  Mr.,  owner,  526. 
Stevens,  Paran,  owner,  577-578. 
Stewart,  A.  T.,  owner,  290, 
33 T-  . . 

Stewart,  William  H.,  owner, 
484- 

Stone,  Oliver,  399. 

Story,  William  Wetmore,  576. 
Street,  494. 

Strong,  G.  T.,  owner,  464. 
Stuart,  Charles  Gilbert,  8,  107- 
120. 

Stuart,  Jane,  445. 

Stuart,  R.  L.,  owner,  21 1,  446, 
456,  470,  487,  .5i3,  50,  522, 
53L  564,  626  (list). 


Sturges,  Jonathan,  owner,  69, 
195,  21 1,  221,  230,  243,  331, 
343,  384,  4H,  421,  435,  439, 
443,  627  (list). 

Stuyvesant,  Rutherford,  owner, 
439,  464,  564- 

Sully,  Thomas,  112,  158-162, 
178. 

Sully,  T.,  Jr.,  479. 

Surville,  Monsieur,  owner,  484. 

Suydam,  James  A.,  484,  540- 
542,  545- 

Tait,  J.  F.,  494,  497. 

Talbot,  567. 

Tayloe,  B.  Ogle,  owner,  116. 

Tenney,  479. 

Terry,  Luther,  451. 

Thayer,  Sanford,  479. 

Thomas,  William,  owner,  72. 

Thompson,  of  Baltimore,  566. 

Thompson,  Cephas  G.,  22,  490. 

Thompson,  Jerome,  490,  567. 

Thompson,  Launt,  594. 

Thorndike,  G.  Quincy,  567. 

Ticknor,  George,  owner,  143, 
181. 

Tiffany,  William,  485. 

Tilton,  John  E.,  558. 

Tracy  family,  owners,  73. 

Trenchard,  45. 

Trinity  Church,  New  York,  72, 
100. 

Troy,  494. 

Trumbull,  John,  8,  82-95,  111, 
296. 

Trumbull  Gallery,  84,  627  (list). 

Tuckerman,  Ernest,  owner,  no. 

Tuckerman,  H,  T.,  poems  by, 
128,  157,  241,  258,  263,  286, 
3W,  359,  378,  606. 

Tuckerman,  J.,  owner,  211,  418, 
446,  486. 

Tuckerman,  Lucius,  owner,  41 1, 
456. 

Tuckerman,  Salisbury,  552. 

Twibill,  George  W.,  95,  478. 

Union  League  Club,  New  York, 
66,  504. 

Union  League,  Philadelphia, 
598- 

Van  Auden,  Isaac,  owner,  557. 

Van  Beest,  551,  554. 

Vanderbilt,  G.  M.,  owner,  490. 

Vanderlyn,  John,  126-135. 

Van  Eiten,  494. 

Vassar  College,  439. 

Vedder,  Elihu,  451^53. 

Ver  Bryck,  Cornelius,  400-404. 

Verplanck,  G.  C.,  owner,  72. 

Volk,  Leo  W.,  589. 

Volmering,  567. 

Wadsworth,  Gen.,  owner,  438. 

Wadsworth  Gallery,  Hartford, 
90,  105,  109,  230,  384,  610. 

Waldo,  Samuel,  66. 

Walker,  493. 

Walker,  Noah,  owner,  61 1. 

Walker,  R.  T.,  owner,  628 
(list). 

Walker,  Thomas  R.,  owner, 
100,  168. 

Walpole,  Horace,  quoted,  41. 

Walters,  A.  T.,  owner,  593. 

Walters,  W.  T.,  owner,  195, 
385- 

Ward,  C.  H.,  owner,  464. 

Ward,  George  Cabot,  owner, 
466. 

Ward,  John,  owner,  313. 


Index. 


639 


Ward,  J.  Q.  A.,  580. 

Warner,  Col.,  Andrew,  owner, 
410. 

Warren,  479. 

Warren,  A.  W.,  552. 
Washington,  portraits  of,  45,  50, 
62,66,  87.  1 15,  309;  statues 
of,  259,  308,  575,  579. 
Washington,  494. 

Watson,  John,  41. 

Watson,  Mr.,  M.  P.,  owner, 

384- 

Waugh,  567. 

Waugh,  Samuel  B.,  479. 

Weber,  Paul,  569. 

Weeks,  John  A.,  owner,  393. 
Weir,  C.  E.,  68. 

Weir,  J.  F.,  487. 

Weir,  Robert  W.,  203-215,  252. 
Welch,  479. 

Wenzler,  A.  H.,  460,  542. 

W ertmiiller,  10,  46,  235,  475. 


West,  Benjamin,  8,  48,  96,  106, 
163. 

West,  W.  E.,  197-202. 
Wetherill,  Edward,  owner,  479. 
Wheelock,  566. 

Whistler,  Mr.,  485. 

White,  Andrew  D.,  owner,  438. 
White,  Edwin,  438-440. 

White,  William  D.,  owner,  434. 
Whitney,  Anne,  605. 

Whittaker,  479. 

Whittredge,  Worthington,  514- 
518. 


Wight,  479,  504. 

Wilde,  Hamilton  G.,  486. 
Wilkinson,  567. 

Willett,  Miss  A.,  owner,  484. 
Williams,  8,  45,  567. 
Williamson,  John,  557. 
Wilson,  494. 

Wilson,  William,  68. 
Wistaniey,  45. 


Winchester,  T.  B.,  owner,  484. 
Winthrop,  R.  C.,  owner,  42,  45, 
466. 

Wolfe  Sale,  the,  21. 

Wollaston,  44. 

Wood,  Joseph,  58. 

Wood,  J.  W.,  488. 

Woodruff,  Mrs.  A.,  owner,  72. 
Woodside,  494. 

Woodville,  Richard  Caton,  408- 
411. 

Worcester,  Mass.,  42,  43,  599. 
Wright,  309,  494. 

Wright,  Patience  and  Joseph, 
8,  49. 

Wust,  566. 

Wyman,  Mrs.,  owner,  593. 

Yale  College,  13,  42,84,  94,  142, 
573,  628  (list).  ( See  Trumbull 
Gallery.) 

Yewell,  493. 

Zabriskie,  Mrs.,  owner,  438. 


THE  END. 


* w 


